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    Marcus Makes a Movie
    Marcus Makes a Movie
    Marcus Makes a Movie
    Ebook207 pages1 hour

    Marcus Makes a Movie

    By Kevin Hart, Geoff Rodkey and David Cooper

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Stand-up comedian and Hollywood box-office hit Kevin Hart keeps the laughs coming in an illustrated middle-grade novel about a boy who has big dreams of making a blockbuster superhero film. Perfect for readers of James Patterson's Middle School series and Lincoln Peirce's Big Nate series.
     
    Marcus is NOT happy to be stuck in after-school film class . . . until he realizes he can turn the story of the cartoon superhero he’s been drawing for years into an actual MOVIE! There’s just one problem: he has no idea what he’s doing. So he’ll need help, from his friends, his teachers, Sierra, the strong-willed classmate with creative dreams of her own, even Tyrell, the local bully who’d be a perfect movie villain if he weren’t too terrifying to talk to.

    Making this movie won’t be easy. But as Marcus discovers, nothing great ever is—and if you want your dream to come true, you’ve got to put in the hustle to make it happen. 

    Comedy superstar Kevin Hart teams up with award-winning author Geoff Rodkey and lauded illustrator David Cooper for a hilarious, illustrated, and inspiring story about bringing your creative goals to life and never giving up, even when nothing’s going your way.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRandom House Children's Books
    Release dateJun 1, 2021
    ISBN9780593179161
    Author

    Kevin Hart

    Kevin Hart is an Anglo-Australian theologian, philosopher and poet. He is currently Edwin B. Kyle Professor of Christian Studies and Chair of the Religious Studies Department at the University of Virginia. He has received multiple awards for his poetry, including the Christopher Brennan Award and the Grace Leven Prize for Poetry twice. He teaches at the University of Virginia and is the author of nine volumes of poetry, including Young Rain (University of Notre Dame Press, 2009).

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    Reviews for Marcus Makes a Movie

    3.5/5

    7 ratings2 reviews

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    • 4/5
      A hilarious book about an average kid named Marcus who is trying to make a movie out of his superhero comic creation while in an afterschool film class. The dialogue between characters flies fresh and fast (you can imagine Kevin Hart's hyper presentation) and the kids are realistic and natural. But above all, you see Marcus' growth and change during his project and his ultimate driving force (hinted at throughout) is tender and genuine. Plus readers will pick up a lot about moviemaking and I appreciate how iteration is demonstrated as a big part of the work.
    • 3/5
      A fun story about teamwork, hard work, and what all goes into making a movie.

    Book preview

    Marcus Makes a Movie - Kevin Hart

    Chapter 1 The World’s Greatest Superhero

    Dead Eye wasn’t just any old villain.

    He was a SUPERvillain! Seven feet tall! Muscles like rocks! With a whole crew of henchmen: the Dead Boyz.

    They were marching through Center City, looking for folks to rob.

    Junior high was letting out. Kids were everywhere. Dead Eye checked out the crowd.

    He spotted this one kid, walking all alone.

    Skinny little boy with no muscles. The perfect victim!

    Dead Eye came at him. Empty them pockets, Little Man! he yelled.

    Skinny little kid took off.

    Dead Eye and the Boyz chased him all the way down Main Avenue.

    Kid’s heart was beating like a drum. They were gaining on him!

    He ran into Mr. Lee’s deli. Hid all the way in the back, behind the potato chip rack.

    Dead Eye came in after him.

    No fights in my store! Mr. Lee yelled.

    Dead Eye didn’t listen. He just grinned. Skinny kid was cornered.

    The supervillain was fixing to break him in half.

    But it wasn’t going down like that.

    Because Dead Eye?

    He made a BIG mistake.

    That wasn’t just any little kid hiding behind those bags of chips.

    It was Marko Jackson.

    When Marko gets scared, he gets mad.

    And when Marko gets MAD…

    THE CHANGE comes over him!

    He turns into TOOTHPICK!

    THE WORLD’S GREATEST SUPERHERO!

    Fighter for justice! Defender of the weak!

    And a couple feet taller than regular Marko.

    He’s still skinny. But it’s a STRONG skinny. Arms and legs like steel wires!

    And those skinny fingers of his?

    They turn into FINGER SPEARS!

    Razor sharp! Fast as lightning! Cut the bad guys up like shish kebab!

    SQUICK! SMICK! ZICK!

    Toothpick busted out of that snack aisle with his finger spears snicking!

    Now it was Dead Eye’s turn to be scared. He and his Dead Boyz ran right out the door.

    They didn’t get far. Toothpick flew down the street, soared up in the air, and came down on them like a warbird!

    SQUIIIICK!

    He stuck those finger spears in deep, right between Dead Eye’s—

    BAM!

    I jumped about a foot out of my chair.

    BAM! BAM!

    Somebody was pounding on the door behind me.

    I set down the pencil I was using to draw Toothpick sticking it to Dead Eye.

    BAM-BAM-BAM!

    Quit that pounding! I yelled. Our apartment’s so small, the front door’s only about a foot from the kitchen table, where I was drawing. It sounded like J.R. was knocking on my skull.

    Let me in!

    I knew it was J.R. even before I heard his voice. At four o’clock on a Monday, he’s the only other person in our building except old Mr. Hampton upstairs. And Mr. Hampton doesn’t go around banging on people’s doors.

    I opened up for J.R. Why you gotta pound so hard, man?

    Why ain’t you answering? You got headphones on or something?

    Nah, I was just drawing. Sometimes when I’m making a comic, I get so into it, I stop living in the world. Dad says he could drop a bomb next to my chair, and I wouldn’t notice.

    J.R. squinted down at me. We’re the same age, but he’s about a head and a half taller than I am.

    "You don’t look like you got your butt whipped, he told me. Did you make it home before Tyrell caught you?"

    Man, I don’t know what you’re talking about!

    That wasn’t true. I knew what he was talking about. I just didn’t want to talk about it.

    But J.R. wouldn’t let it go. Dewayne said Tyrell and his crew chased you all the way from the bus stop to the deli. Then Mr. Lee made them leave while he let you sneak out the back.

    Don’t listen to Dewayne! I told him. He’s just ignorant. None of that happened.

    J.R. looked over my shoulder at the pages I was drawing. You making a Toothpick about it?

    Don’t go looking at that! It’s not done yet!

    Too late. J.R. pointed at my drawing of Dead Eye getting squicked. Is that Tyrell?

    No, man! That’s a supervillain!

    Looks like Tyrell. Got that same busted eye. You trying to pretend you kicked his butt?

    Course not! Man, how many times I have to tell you? Toothpick is NOT ME!

    Then how come he looks like you?

    He doesn’t! Do I wear a costume? Do I fly through the air? Do I have SPEARS ON MY FINGERS?

    "Bet you wish you did."

    Will you get out? Why are you even here?

    Shoot some zombies, fam! J.R. held up a copy of Army of the Undead 3.

    My eyes bugged out. I’d been hearing about that game for months before it dropped.

    Let’s fire it up, J.R. said. He was already halfway down the little hallway to the living room.

    I can’t right now, I told him. If my dad comes home and sees us, he’ll take my GameBox away.

    Dad’s got a rule that I can’t do any gaming on school days. Even if he didn’t, part of me wanted to keep drawing. It takes a lot of work to make a good comic, and I was feeling it with this one. I felt like I should keep going while I was still in a groove.

    But I’m not going to lie: part of me wanted to shoot zombies, too.

    J.R. sat down on the couch. Just a couple minutes! he begged. It’s only four o’clock. Your dad ain’t coming home for hours.

    He had a point. Dad wouldn’t be back from work until at least seven. I took one look at the comic I was drawing and another one at the TV. Army of the Undead 3 was already booting up. It looked pretty dope.

    I huffed out my breath and sat down on the couch next to J.R. Okay, I told him. But just for a little. We gotta quit at the first save point.

    He handed me the second controller. For sure! We’ll just play a little.

    Twenty minutes.

    Half hour at the most.

    Chapter 2 How It All Got Started

    A pack of zombies was trying to eat me and J.R. in a shoe store when I heard the front door open. Dad was back from work.

    First thing I thought was, Why’s he home so early?

    But when I checked the clock, it was seven-thirty. Which wasn’t early at all.

    Second thing I thought was, Why’s it so dark in here?

    Sun must’ve gone down, and we were too busy gaming to notice.

    Third thing I thought was, I better get off this couch before Dad kicks my butt.

    But it was too late. Dad came in, wearing his transit uniform and holding a bag of Chinese food.

    "Aww, heck no, Marcus!"

    Just five more minutes! We’re almost at a save point!

    You at a QUIT point is where you’re at. Dad flipped on the light and headed for the GameBox.

    J.R. had been around enough to know what was coming. Mr. Jenkins! Can I please have my game back before you take the box away?

    Dad ejected the game and flipped the disc to J.R. Then he unplugged the box and picked it up.

    Please don’t take it, Dad! I begged him. We weren’t even playing that long!

    He snorted out his nose. Son, you were sitting in the dark! Like a vampire! And you got that glazed doughnut look.

    He wasn’t wrong. After three hours of blasting zombies, I felt like a glazed doughnut.

    J.R. ducked past my dad and headed out the door. Thanks for having me over, Mr. Jenkins!

    Stay out of trouble, J.R.

    I will!

    Then he was gone, and it was just me and Dad and the Chinese food. And the GameBox he was about to go hide on the top shelf of his closet.

    Please don’t take it away! I begged him again.

    Dad just shook his head. Got a monkey on your back, son. Hate to see it. But you can’t bargain with the devil. Just gotta walk away. Go cold turkey. Now get yourself cleaned up for dinner.

    —

    By the time I came back from the bathroom, Dad had picked up my comics from the kitchen table so he could lay out the chicken fried rice. He was staring at what I’d drawn.

    Somebody chase you home from school today?

    I grabbed the pages from him. Dad! How many times have I told you? That’s not me! Toothpick is made up! He’s fictional!

    I feel you. Just don’t bring that one into school. He pointed at the last page, with the half-finished drawing of Toothpick stabbing Dead Eye with his finger spears. I don’t want to have to come in, talk to Ms. Kimble again about your anger issues.

    I DON’T HAVE ANGER ISSUES!

    Then why are you yelling at me?

    It was a good question. Tell you the truth, I didn’t know. I just yell sometimes.

    I shrugged it off. I dunno. Let’s eat.

    We stuffed our faces with fried rice for a while. Then all of a sudden, Dad went, Oh! We gotta talk about something.

    It’s never good news when he says that.

    Whatever it is, I didn’t do it, I told him.

    He got up from the table. Hang on. Let me get the laptop.

    That definitely sounded bad. Did one of my teachers email you? Already? It was only the first full week of school. Seemed a little early to be getting in some email-your-dad kind of trouble.

    No, it was that after-school cat. The art teacher.

    Mr. Giles? Aw, man! My school has this program called Afternoon Adventures, and Dad makes me go to it till six o’clock every day. It was starting tomorrow, and I’d told Dad to sign me up for the art class ’cause it was the only thing I liked.

    But Mr. Giles teaches the art class. And last year, we had some beef. What did he want?

    "He said

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