I'm first and foremost a writer for kids, because I think kids are fantastic, amazing, wonderful and a whole
bunch of other great things. But that doesn't mean that my stories are for kids only. Every story has a gift
for the one who comes to it with an open heart, no matter that person's age.
As a person of mixed race, I often feel like that mysterious color that closes the chasm between day and
night, sun and moon. It's an inky, ocean blue that makes your heart ache with the hope that there's
something beyond what we can see, for as incredible as this world is, it is also full of turmoil. I try to
hold both realities in my hands as I write, even as I hold both my races in my heart.
Thanks for dropping by, and whether you're nine or ninety, I hope you enjoy my stories!
Delacorte Press/Random House, Inc., 2012
A girl's head popped up from behind the tent. She looked straight at me and smiled. It was that girl...from the one rock
club meeting I'd attended with Grandpa Ed earlier in the summer.
What was her name? My mind was blank.
The girl walked toward me. Galloped was more like it. "Hi, Brendan!"
Uh-oh. She remembered my name. I hoped my deodorant was ready for a challenge, because I could feel the sweat beads forming
on my upper lip and under my arms. Dad had given me the deodorant this summer to help with the girls, he said. I hadn't had
a chance to tell him that girls were about as far from my mind as Pluto was from the sun. He'd left too quickly.
Suddenly, the brown-haired girl was at my side, all excited and bouncy, like Silly Putty.
I wracked my brain for her name, like I was digging through my closet for one of Dad's tools after borrowing it for an
experiment. I had a feeling that forgetting a girl's name was the kind of thing that could get a boy in serious trouble.
I may not have been thinking about girls all that much, but that didn't mean I hadn't observed some things about them.
Observing is what scientists do.
Read more about Brendan Buckley's Sixth-Grade Experiment