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    The Last Holiday Concert
    The Last Holiday Concert
    The Last Holiday Concert
    Ebook126 pages1 hour

    The Last Holiday Concert

    By Andrew Clements

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    A moving holiday story from New York Times bestselling author Andrew Clements.

    For Hart Evans, being the most popular kid in sixth grade has its advantages. Kids look up to him, and all the teachers let him get away with anything -- all the teachers except the chorus director, Mr. Meinert. When Hart's errant rubber band hits Mr. Meinert on the neck during chorus practice, it's the last straw for the chorus director, who's just learned he's about to lose his job due to budget cuts. So he tells the class they can produce the big holiday concert on their own. Or not. It's all up to them. And who gets elected to run the show? The popular Mr. Hart Evans.
        Hart soon discovers there's a big difference between popularity and leadership, and to his surprise, discovers something else as well -- it's really important to him that this be the best holiday concert ever, and even more important, that it not be the last.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAtheneum Books for Young Readers
    Release dateJun 12, 2012
    ISBN9781442462274
    The Last Holiday Concert
    Author

    Andrew Clements

    Andrew Clements (1949–2019) was the author of the enormously popular Frindle. More than 10 million copies of his books have been sold, and he was nominated for a multitude of state awards, including a Christopher Award and an Edgar Award. His popular works include About Average, Troublemaker, Extra Credit, Lost and Found, No Talking, Room One, Lunch Money, and more. He was also the author of the Benjamin Pratt & the Keepers of the School series. Find out more at AndrewClements.com.

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    Reviews for The Last Holiday Concert

    4.5/5

    25 ratings9 reviews

    What did you think?

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    • 5/5
      This book was a really good quick read. It was short and sweet.
    • 5/5
      I think this book was a grate comedy but it was really a bummer how he didn't make a really good ending HE COULD OF FINISH.
    • 3/5
      excellent book about a boy who is in chior and one day accidentaly hits his teacher in thje back of his head with a rubber band. Then his teacher gets so frusterated that he refuses to teach them the holiday songs. So the boy has to teach the whole class the songs before th concert.
    • 4/5
      Sixth grader Hart Evans is the most popular boy in his class. He’s confident, easy-going, and, according to some eleven-year-old girls in the story, pretty easy on the eyes. He loves everything about school and what it means for his reputation - everything except chorus. He thinks it’s boring and embarrassing and one day, as an indirect result from a prank he plays on the director, he finds himself in charge of the upcoming holiday concert. Will Hart be able to pull the rowdy chorus together in time? Will his popularity be compromised when he has to make unpopular choices for the concert? Author Andrew Clements explores themes of peace, cooperation, leadership and, of course, popularity in his early young adult book about middle school in “The Last Holiday Concert”. His language is easy-to-read and the book moves quickly, making it a good choice for readers newer to chapter books. The main character, Hart, is likeable and human and will appeal to reading boys – which is always a find in young adult fiction. The ending gets a little maudlin but as that reflects so much of what middle school represents for most children, it still rings true for its audience. Recommended for ages 9-11.
    • 5/5
      A must read for any music teacher. This book tells the story of a school that is ending its music program and what the students go through because of it.
    • 5/5
      Wow, such a great story! Seriously, Andrew Clements books are classics. I think that the concert part was the best, and I really wish to be one of the people who were invited at it.
    • 4/5
      A quick and interesting holiday read that shows the value of team work, a caring family and the joy of Christmas.
    • 5/5
      i really loved this book.i love all books of andrew clements.at least in a month i need to read this book.such a awesome one.it really has expressions that are needed.just one thing that endings should be more happy and lively
    • 4/5
      My fave part was when Elvis rode out to the stage during the concert. Great book. Andrew Clements is an awesome author, this book is amazing. Great read for ages 8-12!

    Book preview

    The Last Holiday Concert - Andrew Clements

    One

    PALMER KIDS

    Hart Evans sat in the front row at the second big assembly of the year. The kids from the last few homerooms hadn’t found their seats yet, so there was plenty of noise. Hart turned and looked around the auditorium, sweeping his eyes from left to right. There were still a lot of unfamiliar faces in the crowd, even after two and a half months of school.

    Then, as the last group of kids sat down, Hart saw something he had never noticed before. What Hart saw was the complete sixth grade, almost four hundred students. The thought that came to him was like a vision, a burst of understanding.

    And Hart said to himself, We’re the Palmer kids now!

    In the town of Brentbury, kids went to kindergarten, first, second, third, fourth, and fifth grades at Collins Elementary School or at Newman Elementary School. Like two streams tumbling down different sides of the same hill, the Collins kids and the Newman kids bubbled along separately for six years. Those two streams of children flowed together for the first time at Palmer Intermediate, where they became a swirling pool of sixth graders. Palmer Intermediate School contained the sixth grade, the whole sixth grade, and nothing but the sixth grade.

    Every fall it took a couple months for the new sixth graders to stop thinking of themselves as Newman kids or Collins kids. By October or November it began to sink in: We’re the Palmer kids now.

    So Hart was right on time.

    Hart Evans liked being at Palmer Intermediate. It was so different from elementary school. Part of that had to do with the building. Everything was bigger—bigger gym, bigger cafeteria, bigger playing fields, and a big auditorium with a full stage. Until about fifteen years ago Palmer had been the junior high school, and that’s what it felt like.

    That’s also how Palmer School was run, like a junior high. All the kids had lockers. They had homeroom in the morning, and then moved from class to class, subject to subject, teacher to teacher for the rest of the day. It was a whole new school experience. Making the jump to Palmer Intermediate made Hart feel like he was finally getting somewhere.

    One of Hart’s favorite things about Palmer School was that his little sister Sarah was somewhere else. She was in fourth grade now, two years behind him back at Collins Elementary. Since her first day of kindergarten, Sarah had been like a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of Hart’s shoe. She had never missed a chance to tease or bother or embarrass her big brother. Plus Sarah was nosy, and a huge tattletale. And she had never ever accepted the fact that Hart was the most popular boy at Collins Elementary School, which was true.

    Sarah didn’t understand why everybody liked her brother so much. But clearly, they did. Who always had fifteen guys crowding around his table at lunch? Hart. Who got picked first at recess for baseball or dodgeball, even though he wasn’t the best player? Hart. And who got invited to everybody’s birthday party—at least two invitations each week—all year long? Same guy: Hart.

    Sarah knew a different side of Hart Evans. At school he was Mr. Cool. At home, he was more like a nerd, or maybe a mad scientist. Hart even had his own workbench, which was really just an old corner desk. It had four skinny legs and one wide drawer that ran across the longest side of the triangular top. He’d spotted the desk at the end of someone’s driveway one Saturday morning on the way back from soccer.

    Mom, quick! Stop the car! I need that desk. It’s perfect!

    Honey, that’s just junk. You already have a nice desk.

    But that one’s for schoolwork, Mom. I need a place where I can make things and mess around—you know, like for science projects. It’ll fit right into the corner back by my closet. You won’t even know it’s there.

    But his sister Sarah knew it was there. When Hart wasn’t home she would snoop around to see what kind of goofy stuff he was up to. Like using the electric drill he’d gotten last Christmas to make tiny holes in pennies and bottle caps and acorns and pencils, and just about everything else. Like using glue to make sculptures out of nails and chunks of rock and rusty nuts and bolts. Like making huge fake boogers out of dried rubber cement, or using bits of blue and green bottle glass to make weird little stained glass windows. And how had Hart melted all those plastic milk jugs into that big lumpy mess, and why did he have so many different kinds of rubber bands—bags and bags of them?

    Ever since nursery school Sarah had been trailing along two years behind her brother, and her identity was always discovered. Your last name is Evans, right? That was usually the first question. Then Sarah would see the teacher size her up and slowly put it all together—the shape of her face, her blue eyes and sandy brown hair, her slim build and slightly above average height, just like her brother’s. And then the teacher would get this cheery look on her face and say, "Ohhh, yes—you must be Hart’s little sister, right? And Sarah would nod and smile. By second grade she had stopped smiling. And in third grade Sarah had said, Yes, Hart is my fantastic, wonderful, glorious older brother, and I would appreciate it if no one mentions his name again. Ever."

    Sarah’s friends would say, "Hart Evans is your brother? He’s so cool!" And Sarah had to explain that, based on her observations, Hart was actually a total dweeb.

    But all that was in Hart’s past. Sarah didn’t even ride the same bus with him anymore. At Palmer Intermediate School Hart was on his own.

    Palmer kids. Looking around at all the sixth graders, Hart wrestled with the idea. He couldn’t put it into words, but he got a strange feeling—like he was looking at himself in the rearview mirror of a time machine. He saw that these four hundred kids were going to travel into the future with him. These were the kids he’d be on teams with in junior high and high school. They’d go to football games and dances together. They would get their driver’s licenses and go hang out at Peak’s Diner. These were the kids he would graduate from high school with, these Palmer kids. He was looking at his class, really looking at it for the first time.

    Then Hart Evans, the visionary seer of the future, remembered the tangled wad of rubber bands in his pocket, and in a split second he was a sixth grade kid again.

    Not that Hart had immediate plans to launch a rubber band. No way. Not during an assembly. And certainly not from the front row—much too dangerous. Hart hadn’t been caught shooting a rubber band in over two years, and he planned to keep it that way.

    No, the rubber bands in his pocket were for later, after lunch. Because after lunch it would be time for chorus. And in Hart’s opinion, a few well-launched rubber bands were just what the sixth grade chorus needed.

    Two

    COOLNESS

    Hart swallowed a yawn, but it was a tired yawn, not a bored yawn. He liked assemblies. Sometimes the programs were good, and even if they weren’t, an assembly was still pretty much free time. As long as you kept looking straight ahead and didn’t shut your eyes, you could think about anything you wanted to for almost an hour—which didn’t happen very often at school.

    Up on stage two men and two women were dressed in costumes from the 1840s. The guy in the straw hat had a banjo, and the woman wearing blue-jean overalls had a guitar. All four were singing some songs about the Erie Canal. They were good musicians, and the way they used folk songs to show American history was pretty interesting. But they’d been at it for almost thirty-five minutes and it was starting to get old. Hart tuned them out.

    Another yawn.

    Hart let his mind drift back a few hours, and he remembered the sound of the noisy water pipes in the wall next to his bed, which was why he’d been awake since six AM today. That was when his dad had started taking a shower. Hart had tried to get back to sleep, but the automatic coffeemaker had already filled the house with the smell of morning.

    Usually his mom had to pull Hart out of bed at the last second so he could throw on some clothes, drag a comb through his hair, grab a piece of toast and a swallow of

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