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Will the real Rowan Pohi please stand?
To dispel boredom while waiting for tenth grade to begin, Bobby and his friends create an imaginary kid named Rowan Pohi (that’s IHOP backwards) and apply to the prestigious Whitestone Prep in Rowan’s name. When, surprisingly, Rowan’s application is accepted, Bobby impulsively reinvents himself as Rowan and embarks on an edgy life of deception in the rarefied world of Whitestone. Told with Ralph Fletcher’s trademark blend of humor and depth, the story of Rowan’s rise and fall is a funny, poignant, and suspenseful riff on the adolescent search for identity.
- Sales Rank: #2827762 in Books
- Published on: 2011-11-15
- Released on: 2011-11-15
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 1.00" h x 5.70" w x 8.40" l, .60 pounds
- Binding: Hardcover
- 208 pages
Review
"Hearts will go out to Bobby as he learns that being true to himself is as important as realizing his dreams."-Publishers Weekly "Bobby's family and home life are authentically depicted, and teens will respond to Bobby's desire to create a path to his dreams and root for his crazy idea to work."--Booklist
About the Author
Ralph Fletcher is the versatile author of 30-some books, including (for young readers) novels, picture book texts, poetry, and books about writing, as well as books for writing teachers. Recipient of a master's degree in fiction from Columbia University, he worked in New York City classrooms for the Teachers College Writing Project, designed to help teachers develop better ways of teaching writing. He travels widely to teach writing and talk about his work. Mr. Fletcher lives in Durham, NH, with his wife and four sons. His website is www.ralphfletcher.com.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
One
It was big poobs who first suggested the idea. we were at the International House of Pancakes: Poobs, Marcus, and me. The tables at the IHOP are sometimes sticky with syrup, but it’s the only place around where a kid can order a coffee or soda and nobody complains if he wants to hang out for an hour or two.
The booths were crowded, mostly with Whitestone Prep kids. Stonys, we called them. Even without their green uniform shirts, they were obviously Stonys. They were the ones with braces and designer jeans. The ones with new backpacks. The ones talking about “wild times” at summer music camp in places like Tanglewood or Chautauqua.
Five Stony girls were jammed into the booth next to us. The tallest girl was blond and cute; very. They were talking about college. I heard her say something about coed dorms, which made the other girls giggle.
Marcus spun his fork like he was playing spin-the-bottle, except there was no girl in his near future, and no college either. After (more like if) he graduated from Riverview High, he was joining the Marines.
The three of us leaned back in our seats. We were beyond bored.
Big Poobs sighed. “Let’s do something.”
Poobs was a straight-C student, except for the occasional D. There was no college in his plans either, but he didn’t need it any more than Marcus did. His parents owned Vinny’s, a popular local Italian restaurant. Big Poobs worked busing tables there. In a year he would be a waiter; eventually he would own the restaurant himself.
My grades were actually good, but with Mom gone for over a year now, and no sign of her coming back, I couldn’t picture myself waltzing off to the University of Whatever after high school. I figured I should stick around for my little brother, Cody, at least for a few more years.
When the Whitestone girls got up to pay their check, they left behind a piece of paper on the table. I reached over and picked it up.
“What is it?” Marcus asked.
“Looks like an application to Whitestone. Hey, why don’t you apply, Marcus?”
“Why don’t you eat my shorts?” he calmly replied.
It was mid-August and hot. One good thing about the IHOP: they really cranked up the AC. We had a booth by the window with a view of the street. The cars turning left onto Main Street got blasted by midmorning sun. The drivers all reacted by dropping their sun visors.
“Look: they all do the same thing when they turn,” I said. “They all reach up for their sun visors. What are they, programmed like robots? I swear, people are sheep.”
Marcus added more sugar to his coffee. “Baa.”
That’s when it happened. Big Poobs, who to my recollection had never had one truly original idea in his life, spoke up.
“We should do it,” he said. “Try to get accepted at Whitestone Prep.”
“You, get accepted at Whitestone?” Marcus snorted. “Last time you saw an A or a B, it was in your alphabet soup, genius boy.”
Big Poobs shook his head. “Not us. Somebody else. We could, like, invent somebody. A real smart kid. Like, bionic.”
I stared at Marcus. “Bionic?”
“Yes!” Poobs was grinning like a jack-o’lantern. “We can help him apply to Whitestone, see if he gets accepted.”
Marcus shook his head. “That’s stupid.”
At that moment Darla, the waitress, approached the table. “More coffee, boys?”
“No,” I told her. “Wait; yes.”
Darla peered at me suspiciously but refilled my mug. After she left, I pointed at Big Poobs.
“You are a genius,” I told him.
Poobs blinked. “I am?”
I smacked a fist into the palm of my hand.
“Let’s do it!” I whispered. “Let’s create somebody! Then we’ll take that somebody and get him accepted to Whitestone!”
Marcus hesitated. “Create somebody?”
“Yeah, how hard could it be?” I said, studying the application. It was surprisingly short, a single page, front and back. “first thing we need is a name.”
“Austin? Brady?” Marcus said.
I shook my head. “Those sound like little-boy names. How about Owen?”
“Or Rowan,” Poobs suggested.
“Rowan.” We repeated the name, turning it over on our tongues.
“Sounds like a warrior,” Marcus mused. “I like it.”
“Me too.” Carefully, I printed the letters on the application. “Rowan what?”
For some reason that simple question stumped us, almost derailed the project right there and then. Marcus and Poobs threw out some last names—Smith, Johnson, White, Hoffman—but they all sounded lame.
I glanced at the glass window where the letters IHOP were stenciled. From where we were sitting, inside the restaurant, the letters appeared in reverse: POHI.
“POHI,” I stated. “That’s IHOP backwards. His name is Rowan Pohi.”
Big Poobs thumped the table with his big soft hands. “Rowan Pohi!” He pronounced it like I did: Pohi.
“Rowan should have a middle name, shouldn’t he?” Marcus said. “How about Ian? Rowan Ian Pohi.”
“Bingo.” I nodded.
“We’re in business, baby!” Poobs exclaimed. In his excitement he knocked over the syrup dispenser, causing some syrup to dribble onto the bottom of the application.
“You idiot!” I snapped. “This has to be handed in!”
“Sorry,” Poobs muttered.
I wet a napkin and carefully wiped away the liquid. I did manage to get it off, though it left a faint stain on the paper.
“That will have to do, I guess.” I looked at the application. “Sex?”
Marcus laughed. “Obviously!”
I marked the box for Male.
“They want to know where he went to school last year.” I drummed the table, thinking hard. “If we say Riverview, we’re screwed. If they check for Rowan’s name, they’ll find nothing and realize that the application is bogus. We better pick someplace far away.”
“My mom used to live in a tiny town in Arizona,” Marcus put in.
“Yeah?” I looked at him. “Got a name?”
“Piñon,” he said. “I went there once. It’s really the boonies. Indian country. No green anywhere. Nothing but desert, scorpions, cactuses.”
“Cacti,” Poobs corrected him.
I wrote it down. “Rowan went to Piñon High School . . . home of the Stingin’ Scorpions.”
Poobs rubbed his hands together. “Oh yeah!”
“What’s Rowan like?” I said. “We’re gonna have to know him real good if we’ve got any shot at getting him into a school like Whitestone.”
“He’s a dweeb, like you,” Marcus replied.
“I’m serious, numb-nuts.”
“Remember Terry Lernihan?” Marcus said.
I nodded. “He moved after fifth grade.”
“Lernihan didn’t say jack,” Marcus remembered. “I hardly ever heard him speak in class. Then one day he comes into school with that refracting telescope he made himself. Took first place in the science fair.”
I just looked at him. “And your point is . . .”
“That’s what Rowan’s like,” Marcus continued. “Maybe the dude doesn’t say much, but he’s smart as hell. A doer, not a talker.”
Big Poobs smiled. “Yeah.”
“That’s a start,” I said. “Clubs and activities?”
“Boy Scouts,” Marcus suggested. “Definitely put that in. Oh, and National Honor Society.”
I nodded. “How about sports?”
“Football!” Big Poobs exclaimed.
“Yesss!”
Football was a very sore subject at Riverview High. It got cut out of the budget last year, along with a bunch of other stuff, so we didn’t have a football team anymore. Kids were still pissed off about it. Whitestone Prep had a strong football team; they traveled all around the East Coast to play other private schools. Their school had just added two new turf football fields.
“How about extracurricular activities?” I said.
“Volunteers at soup kitchen.”
“Hey, let’s not make him into kind some of saint,” Poobs warned.
Marcus grinned. “Why not?”
“Sounds good to me,” I agreed, and jotted that down.
“Hobbies?”
“Mr. Pohi loves to cook,” Poobs suggested with a giggle. “Especially pancakes.”
“Are you really that stupid?” I demanded. “That would give it away!”
Poobs sucked his thumb, baby-style. “Sowwy.”
“Hey, I skipped this part,” I said. “Academics. They want to see Rowan’s grades from his old school. We’ve got to tell them something. Rowan’s a good student, right?”
“Damn good!” Big Poobs agreed.
“What’s his grade point average?” I asked. “He has to be smart enough to get into a school like Whitestone.”
“Four point oh,” Poobs declared. “We’re talking genius material.”
I shook my head. “Let’s not get greedy. How about three point six?”
“Yeah, that sounds more realistic,” Marcus put in.
My eyes snagged on something I hadn’t noticed before, a box on the lower-right-hand corner of the page. Letter of Recommendation.
“Uh-oh,” I muttered.
“What?”
“It says he has to send in at least one letter of recommendation.” I read out loud: “ ‘Letter should come from an adult within the school community who has personal knowledge of the applicant—a teacher, coach, or administrator.’ ”
We stared at each other.
Marcus shrugged. “We’ll have to fake one.”
“Sign somebody else’s name?” Big Poobs looked worried. “Isn’t that forgery?”
“We’re just goofing,” Marcus told him. “Besides, there’s no way anybody’s gonna trace it back to us.”
I gave Marcus a straight look. “Can you do it?”
He smiled. “Sure. Piece o’ cake. I’ll write a recommendation from his football coach, Ramón García.”
Marcus’s sudden Spanish accent made Big Poobs snort
with laughter.
“You’ll have to make up some fake letterhead to write it on,” I told Marcus.
He nodded. “Can do. Piñon High School. Home of the Rattlesnakes.”
“Home of the Scorpions!” I hissed. “Jeez!”
Marcus smiled lazily. “Scorpions, rattlesnakes . . . what’s the diff?”
“There’s a huge diff!”
“You can’t mail it from here,” Big Poobs pointed out. “They put the name of the town on the postmark. So the letter has to be mailed from Piñon, Arizona. If it’s from around here, they’re going to smell a rat.”
“No worries,” Marcus said. “My cousin Devon lives out there. I’ll write the letter, put it in an envelope, send it to Devon, and have him mail it from there.”
“You’re good at this,” I told Marcus. “A little too good.”
He bowed. “Thank you very much.”
“They want a local mailing address,” I said with a shrug. “I’ll just use mine.”
“So is that it?” Poobs asked eagerly. “Is the application finished?”
“Almost,” I told him. On the last line there was a space to sign, which I did now—Rowan I. Pohi—with a flourish and a bold dot above the final i. “Done!”
Poobs’s face turned serious. “Do you really think we can get him into Whitestone?”
“You better believe it.” Marcus theatrically raised his head and began speaking in a mock-solemn tone. “All his life Rowan Pohi has dreamed of going to Whitestone Prep. I ask you: Would you deny this fine young man the chance to make something out of his life? Would you?”
“Nope.”
“Nope.”
“Nope.”
“I count one nope and two dopes,” I declared.
I expected Marcus to belt my arm, so when he did I was ready for it. I didn’t even flinch.
Most helpful customer reviews
5 of 5 people found the following review helpful.
Appealing for young adult males
By Tiffany A. Harkleroad
The summer before they begin 10th grade, Bobby and his friends decide to see if they can create a fictional teenager, Rowan Pohi, and have him accepted into the prestigious private school in town. They are all shocked when Rowan gets in, and Bobby secretly decides to take the experiment to the next level. Bobby assumes Rowan's identity, and actually attend the private school, even securing a full scholarship. But quickly, the ruse fails, and Bobby must decide who he wants to be, and what path he wants to take in life.
I have to say, I found this to be a really original story, and pretty well thought out. While it was a bit far fetched that such a prestigious school would accept a student that close to the start of school, without an interview or official transcripts, they author does do a decent job of trying up most of those loose ends. I liked that this story revolved around mostly male characters, something we see far too little in young adult books. This helps the book appeal to young male readers, without being a stereotypical male book. There is story here with real depth, and the framing helps male readers get in touch with real emotions.
There is some heavy stuff at play in the book, including alcoholism and abuse, so keep that in mind when allowing young adults to read the story, but it is handled in a way that makes the topics age appropriate. All in all, I thought this was a good, realistic young adult book.
2 of 2 people found the following review helpful.
Fun but somewhat far-fetched.
By D. Williams
Almost all teenagers dream of putting something over on adults in authority, and in "Also Known as Rowan Pohi" a group of incoming tenth-grade boys try to do just that.
Bobby Steele and two of his friends are at the local hangout, the IHOP, as summer is drawing to a close and they will have to return to Riverview High, a substandard public high school. Some students from the very elite Whitestone Academy (also known as "Stoners" ) also hang out at the IHOP , and, somehow, Bobby and the other boys discover an application to Whitestone that was left behind.
The boys create a new boy - Rowan Pohi (note that "Pohi" is "IHOP" backwards), deciding on his grade average, his accomplishments, the whole thing, and fill out the application. But - surprise! Rowan Pohi's application is accepted. Even though the boys agree that this pretense really should end, Bobby cannot resist; he enrolls as "Rowan" and leads a double life: attending the elite prep school by day, working in his father's car repair shop and caring for his five-year-old brother in the evenings. Even the cover illustration takes a humorous look at this double life.
Granted, it is a big stretch to believe that the administration of Whitestone didn't check things out on "Rowan's" application any better than they did, or insist on meeting with "Rowan" and his family before the first day of classes, but that's half the fun of this teen novel - seeing how far "Rowan" can slip through the cracks, keep saying that his transcripts must be lost or delayed somewhere, and test for a writing scholarship before getting found out - or will he be found out? Is this identity theft, since Rowan really doesn't really exist, or is it a prank just gone too far? Read and decide for yourself; you'll probably find this book the enjoyable fast read that I did.
1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
Quick, enjoyable teen read
By Avid reader
Bobby Steele, a tenth grader at a failing school, and his two close friends decide to create a person. Not for any nefarious purpose, but simply to see if their creation, Rowan Pohi, could be accepted to a prestigious local private school. The fictional Rowan Pohi is given characteristics that will increase the potential for acceptance (volunteers, National Honors Society, football player, good GPA). The three bored teens complete the application, write a letter of recommendation, and have it mailed from Pinon, Arizona (where Rowan used to live). The boys don't believe that this prank will go any further than submitting the application, but when "Rowan Pohi" is accepted as a student, Bobby realizes that this is a chance to change his life.
Bobby's father is notorious for having burned his wife with an iron; when she leaves him, she also leaves behind her two sons-Bobby and Cody. Bobby deals with the abandonment by blaming his father, while Cody takes refuge in believing he is an American Indian. A bright kid trapped in a substandard school, Bobby uses the acceptance letter to become Rowan Pohi, to become someone other than Robert Steele, Jr.
Of course, as the son of an auto mechanic, Bobby/Rowan does not fit in at Whitestone Academy, but he never tries to hide what he is-a scholarship student. Since the school is in the same town where Bobby lives, it is inevitable that someone will recognize him as a long-time resident, not a recent arrival in town. How this critical plot point is resolved requires some suspension of disbelief, as does the whole application and acceptance process of Whitestone. However, the book is very well written (not as common in teen books as one would hope), and the fact that it is a teen book for boys, with characters that will be familiar to anyone who has ever attended high school (public or private), I would recommend "Also Known as Rowan Pohi" for boys (and girls), from about age 12 to 15 depending on their maturity level.
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