Life is looking up for D.J. Schwenk. She's in eleventh grade, finally. After a rocky summer, she's reconnecting in a big way with her best friend, Amber. She's got kind of a thing going with Brian Nelson, who's cute and popular and smart but seems to like her anyway. And then there's the fact she's starting for the Red Bend High School football team-the first girl linebacker in northern Wisconsin, probably. Which just shows you can't predict the future. As autumn progresses, D.J. struggles to understand Amber, Schwenk Farm, her relationship with Brian, and most of all her family. As a whole herd of trouble comes her way, she discovers she's a lot stronger than she-or anyone-ever thought. This hilarious, heartbreaking and triumphant sequel to the critically acclaimed Dairy Queen takes D.J. and all the Schwenks from Labor Day to a Thanksgiving football game that you will never forget.

Every labor day, the Jorgensens-they own Jorgensens Ice Cream-set up a little ice cream stand right in their yard, which means you can spend the entire Labor Day picnic making yourself ice cream sundaes if thats what you want to do, and for years when I wasnt playing softball or chasing the Jorgensen kids or trying to keep up with my brothers, Id sit myself at that little booth making one sundae after another until it was time to head home for evening milking, and then a couple miles into the drive Id bring that whole sundae experience back up, right there on the side of whatever road we happened to make it to. Lately, though, I have a little more self-control. Now I only eat three or four, without marshmallows because I finally figured out that they shouldnt really be part of the whole sundae thing, while Im hanging out at the pig roast watching guys poke at the fire because apparently its a law that if youre a guy you have to spend a bunch of time doing that. Then maybe Ill grab one more between innings when Im not pitching.Thats the other great thing about the picnic: the softball game. Randy Jorgensen has a huge backyard he mows all year for this, and he borrows bases from Little League so its official and all. He even got an umpires getup at a garage sale somewhere, and a friend of his who owns a pig farm works every year as umpire after hes got the pig going in the pit.My mom used to pitch the game. She pitched all through college, and her team was pretty good from what shes told me. Then one year she threw her back out, which isnt that hard to believe considering she doesnt get much exercise these days and, well, she weighs a whole lot more than she used to. She threw out her back so much that she couldnt walk or anything, Dad had to drive her home in the back of the pickup as she lay there like a piece of plywood if plywood could holler to slow down, and she had to spend three weeks on the living room floor until she healed. Which isnt such a swell thing to be doing when youre supposed to be teaching sixth grade and its the first three weeks of school.So shes not allowed to pitch anymore. But at least she started exercising again-not for softball but just to lose some weight-which means puffing around the farm fields, swinging her arms in this way that makes me glad shes not walking where anyone can see her. I guess she figures that an elementary school principal, which she is now since she moved up from teaching sixth grade, shouldnt be quite so heavy.The softball game is always kids against the grownups, from little tiny kids still in diapers to old farmers who get their grandkids to run because they dont have any knees left. Theres always lots of arguing about where the teenagers should go. This year Randy Jorgensen made a big plea for Curtis, trying to get him on the grownup side on the grounds that hes one of the tallest people there, which is true, but seeing as hes only going into eighth grade he really does be

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Excerpted from The Off Season by Catherine Gilbert Murdock, Catherine Murdock
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