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    Kip Campbell's Gift
    Kip Campbell's Gift
    Kip Campbell's Gift
    Ebook115 pages1 hour

    Kip Campbell's Gift

    By Coleen Murtagh Paratore

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Kip Campbell is still living in the town of Clover, still working in his family’s funeral home, and yes, still speaking to the dead. Those souls who have passed on but aren’t yet able to go to “the good” because something in their life was never resolved ask Kip for his help. As if these two jobs weren’t enough, Kip also has to deal with girls and bullies. Now Kip is fed up and wants to quit talking to the dead, but can someone quit a job they never applied for?
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSimon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
    Release dateAug 4, 2009
    ISBN9781416996330
    Kip Campbell's Gift
    Author

    Coleen Murtagh Paratore

    Coleen Murtagh Paratore is the author of the acclaimed The Wedding Planner's Daughter and its brand-new sequel The Cupid Chronicles. For younger readers, she has also written How Prudence Proovit Proved the Truth About Fairy Tales. She's a believer in community rent, Cupid, and the magic of Cape Cod. Look for Mack McGinn's Big Win -- in which two all-American sports-star brothers battle to be the best -- in Summer 2007. Learn more about Coleen at http://www.coleenparatore.com/

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    3.5/5

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    • 4/5
      This is the sequel to The Funeral Director's Son (just out on paperback from Simon & Schuster this month). In book one we meet Kip Campbell, son of the local funeral director in Clover, MA. Kip doesn't really mind that his family lives in a funeral home, or that on visitation days they have to have sandwiches and salad because you can't have food smells during a funeral. Kip doesn't even mind that he's the outdoor guy and has to make sure that the yard is tidy, the walk swept, and parking cones are placed for events. What he does mind is his other job. Kip is responsible for seeing that the dead are free to move on. Kip tried to quit, but the voice that directed him in his work promised that if he kept it up for a year it would be worth his weight in gold. Who could pass that up? But now in volume 2 Kip has to help his worst enemy's mother. Bud hates Kip and the feeling is mutual. On top of that, someone is hurting cats and trying to blame it on Birdie, the harmless beachcomber. And, as if that weren't enough, the sociopathic nephew of the competiton (Golden's Funeral Parlor) is now attending Kip's school. And he's even worse than BUD! What's a young man to do?
    • 3/5
      Kip Cambell has a gift that comes in handy with the family business. What is the family business you ask? His father owns and runs a funeral home. They live above it. Kip uses his gift to help the deceased and their families. He helps them so they can get to "Good". He also helps them because he struck a deal with someone. What is the deal? You'll have to read the book to find out. Read and find out how Kip helps a kid he really doesn't like. This was a simple yet fun book that gives the reader of what it would be like to be the kid who lives above a funeral home

    Book preview

    Kip Campbell's Gift - Coleen Murtagh Paratore

    CHAPTER 1

    King of the Sea

    All this and heaven too.

    —Matthew Henry, 1662–1714

    I’m going to tell you straight out, I hear voices.

    Not the regular kind everybody hears. These voices are in my head.

    It’s a talent, or a torture. I’m not sure which.

    Some days I feel like a hero. Some days I feel like a freak. It all depends on the day.

    Who do I hear talking?

    Sometimes it’s people who just died here in Clover.

    Sometimes it’s God, or at least I think it is.

    Sometimes it’s my own voice talking to me. Kip Campbell talking to Kip.

    Right now, though, all I hear is the wind whistling loud in my ears. I’m sitting up here on my throne, way high up on Clover Cliff. It’s not really a throne; I’m no king. It’s more like a chair carved out naturally in the rocks. Up here it’s just me and the sky and that big blue whippin’ wild Atlantic Ocean. I come here to figure things out.

    To get to this spot I crawl out over the sea wall mountain-climber style. It’s easy until the last smooth boulder which doesn’t have a crevice to get a toehold on; I’ve nearly slipped in the drink a dozen times, and then, one quick leap and I’m in.

    It’s like my own secret cave here, except, I told you, it’s a throne. When I was a little kid and I first discovered this place, I’d wear my superhero cape and hold up a stick to rule the seagulls. Those birds flew when they saw me. I was Neptune, King of the Sea. Tell anybody that and you’re dead. Just kidding.

    I shouldn’t joke about the dead. My father—he’s a funeral director—would say that was disrespectful. Our family runs Campbell and Sons Funeral Home. We live upstairs from the business. Family on the second floor. Funerals on the first. Frankenstein stuff in the basement. Oooh, scary. No, not really. Somebody’s got to do this line of work. Dad says it’s more than a profession, it’s a sacred calling. If that’s true, don’t call me. Being a funeral director is the last thing I want to be.

    Everybody in my family has a job with the business. Me, I’m the Outdoor Guy. I mow, rake, shovel, and handle the parking lot. I also have another job my family and friends don’t know about. I help the dead rest in peace.

    I don’t help all the dead in Clover, just the ones with anchors weighing them down. Something important they needed to do or say. They can’t move on until that burden is gone. That’s where I come in. The dead tell me what they need and I take care of it. I’m sort of like their fairy godbrother without the wings and glitter.

    When I do my job well, the anchors are lifted and then the dead are free as birds, light as kites, ready to sail to Good. That’s what I call heaven. Good.

    Now, I know you know what life is because you’re reading this and so, guess what, you’re alive. Congratulations. As to what Good is…well, that’s a slipperier fish.

    I’m not sure about angels and saints and pearly gates, but I’m pretty certain that if you live your life right, you get to go to Good.

    There’s a green shamrock on the sign when you enter our town, Clover, Massachusetts. My grandmother, Nanbull, says the three petals on the clover remind us why we’re here:

    To live.

    To love.

    To leave something better behind.

    Simple, huh? But simple can be hard. When dead people from Clover can’t move on, it’s usually because something’s troubling them in one of those three simple areas. It’s my job to help them wrap things up so they can go in peace.

    That’s what everybody says at a funeral: May the dearly departed rest in peace.

    Personally, I don’t think the dead rest at all. I think once the funeral’s over and the family’s headed off to the potluck buffet lunch, the dead person sets sail to something better. When they open their eyes, they’re right smack in the center of their best birthday ever, with everything they’ve ever wanted and all the people they love and meatball subs and chocolate shakes never running out and they’re so whippin’ happy and the feeling never ends. I think that’s what heaven is. Your personal idea of good.

    Just a few weeks ago I was all set to give up this job with the dead. I didn’t ask for it and I don’t know why I got picked. I’m just an average kid. Good-looking, but average. At first it was fun and I felt pretty decent about myself helping dead dudes move on. But then this work started mucking up my life. I’d never know when a dead one would start yakking in my head. Like, I’d be in center field with the bases loaded and the ball soaring sweet for my mitt and it’s all mine, all mine, when some dead lady starts telling me her problem and my brain freezes and I lose my focus and my buddies are screaming, The ball, Kip, the ball!! Or, in history class when my teacher called on me for an answer and some dead guy started talking and I shouted, Not now! and my teacher thought I was dissing her.

    And not to mention I was doing all this dead-work for free. I kept saying I needed to get a real job, one that paid money so I could save for the Nauset Whaler down at Maloney’s Marina I’ve been eyeing since I could see.

    Finally, I gave notice. I was done. Finished, kaput. Hasta la vista, baby.

    Then Billy Blye died.

    I’d been afraid of that mean old fisherman my whole life. I refused to help. No way. He could be anchored here forever for all I cared.

    Then I heard the most incredible words:

    Do this work for one more year and it will be worth your weight in gold.

    At first I thought, no way, what a scam. Do you think I’m a fishbrain or what?

    Then, believe it or not, I found gold nuggets on the beach and took them to this pawn shop, Clover Stamp and Coin, and guess what? They were worth $1,180! Enough for me and Tuck to go to Camp Russell this summer like we’ve always wanted.

    I figured maybe those nuggets were appetizers. Little franks in blankets with mustard dipping sauce before the gigundo roast beef dinner.

    I calculated it all out and if I gain just twenty more pounds between now and next October, when I get my weight in gold, I’ll be almost a millionaire. Pretty sweet, huh?

    My heart’s pounding just thinking about it. With that kind of dough, Tuck, Stew, Jupe, and I would never have to work a day in our lives. We could sail our mega–souped-up Nauset Whaler around the globe like those millionaire dudes on TV, living the good life forever.

    You’re thinking what the heck’s my problem, right? Gold sounds good to you. The thing is…I want to know where the gold came from. I can’t stop wondering. This lady in Clover, Birdie O’Shaughnessy, held out something sparkly to show me one day on the beach. Was that gold? Did she put it there? Or maybe God did? Or was it from that old sunken pirate ship they’re excavating off the coast of Cape Cod? Where did the gold come from? I need to know.

    All will be revealed in time.

    I jump at the voice inside me, nearly fall off my throne.

    A deal’s a deal, Kip. You

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