Penguin Elementary Chapter Book Sampler by Penguin Teen

N EV ER L I L W H M E! C A S N E U L E TH B

VEERA HiRANANDANi

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CHAPTER ONE

y name is Phoebe Gertrude Green, but that’s way too many letters for me to write every day at the top of my homework, so I write Phoebe G. Green. My parents call me Pheebs a lot, but most of the time I’m just Phoebe. I’m a very lucky girl (at least that’s what my mom says all the time). My mom bought me this sparkly purple notebook because I like purple and I like to make lists. Here’s a list of why I’m so lucky: 1

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1 I live in a house with a blue

door. Nobody else I know has a blue door. 2 My school is just around the

corner and I get to walk there. 3 I have chocolate-brown,

extra-curly hair. 4 I have exactly twenty-seven

freckles on my face, which is my lucky number. 5 I have a best friend named

Sage, whoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s a boy, if you were wondering. 6 I have a blue betta fish

named Betty #2. Sheâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s named after Betty #1, a good fish 2

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who lived a long, happy fish life, but it makes me too sad to talk about Betty #1, so I won’t.

Today was the first day of the rest of my life (that’s what my dad always says). I started third grade and I wasn’t even nervous because my new teacher, Mrs. B, had the curliest, reddest hair I’ve ever seen and played the guitar. My older sister, Molly, who’s thirteen and thinks she rules the world, had Mrs. B as her third-grade teacher, too, and said she was “totally cool.” Also, Sage was in my class. Double also, 3

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I had a new girl in my class from France, named Camille, who was very tall and looked very embarrassed, because her cheeks were always red. Mrs. B did the coolest thing today. She covered the whole wall with brown paper and told us to “go to it,” which meant we could paint anything we 4

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wanted on it about our summer. I thought and thought about it because you don’t get many chances to paint on the wall in your classroom. Mrs. B came up to me and smiled. “Phoebe, do you need help deciding what to paint?” “Well,” I said, “we went to the beach 5

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and we went to a fair. I can’t choose.” “Which trip is clearer in your mind? Then it will be easier to paint.” So I painted myself throwing up after I ate too much cotton candy at the fair. Sage also painted me throwing up because I guess it was clear in his mind, too. “Phoebe, that certainly is a clear painting,” Mrs. B said after looking at it. Isn’t Mrs. B the best? Then at lunchtime, Camille brought the weirdest lunch I’ve ever seen. I had to do a whole separate list for it: 1 A tiny loaf of bread wrapped

in a cloth napkin 6

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2 A piece of cheese with blue

dots on it that smelled funny 3 A green salad in a little plastic

bowl with tan-colored beans and pieces of meat

When I asked about it, Camille told me it was a butter lettuce salad with pieces of DUCK in it! She said this very quietly. Who puts butter on their lettuce and eats a duck? Camille might be crazy. 4 A small box of strawberries

that she sprinkled with powdery sugar

One of my soggy noodles slipped off my plate and splatted on the floor. 7

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Sage took one look at Camille’s lunch and pointed at the cheese with blue dots on it. “That cheese smells like rotten eggs,” he said. Camille looked down at her lap and started turning red. “Sage,” I said, pointing at him, because sometimes Sage needs to be pointed at. “Just saying,” he said. His older brother says that all the time. “Well, say something else,” I told him, and smiled at Camille. Her face was still a little red, but a happier red this time. “Sorry,” Sage said. 8

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On the second day of the rest of my life, we were sitting at lunch and I watched Camille very carefully to see if she brought another crazy lunch. Sage and I had the school lunch like most of the kids. I looked at Camilleâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s lunch and asked her what was what. She answered in her movie-star French voice. This is what she had: 1 More tiny bread 2 A beet salad with cheese

from a goat

Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve never had cheese from a goat, so I asked her for a taste. It was creamy and not smelly at all. 9

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3 A tiny little raspberry pie

She called it a tart, but it wasn’t tart. She said her own father made it because he’s-get this-a pastry chef! That means he’s like a regular chef, but he only makes desserts. Pretty cool, huh? I can’t believe that’s actually a real job.

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I looked down at my sticky mac and cheese and mushy peas and sighed a big sigh. That night at dinner we had meat loaf. We pretty much eat the same things every week: MO N DAY

Dadâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s famous spaghetti

and salad from a bag T U ESDAY

Momâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s famous baked

chicken with mashed potatoes from a box and salad from a bag W EDN ESDAY

Mom brings home

meat loaf from the store and salad from a bag 11

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TH U RSDAY

Leftovers and salad

from a bag F RIDAY

Pizza and salad from the

pizza place SAT U RDAY

Turkey sandwiches

and coleslaw from the deli and no salad SU N DAY

Wonton soup and beef

and broccoli (my favorite!) from a Chinese restaurant

I decided to ask my mom if maybe she could find a place that sells cheese from a goat and get some. She looked at me funny. â&#x20AC;&#x153;You mean goat cheese, Phoebe?â&#x20AC;? she asked me. 12

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“Yes, that’s the one!” “Sure, but where did you have goat cheese?” she asked. “This girl from France had it at school. She also ate a duck.” “Hmmm,” my dad said. “Huh,” my mom said. Now they seemed confused. When this happens, I have to keep saying the same thing over and over for many days in a row until they understand. I might as well be speaking in French.

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! e m i T o G It â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s words by

Pictures by

Scott McCormick

R. H. Lazzell

! e m i T o G It â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s words by

pictures by

Scott McCormick

R. H. Lazzell

Dial Books for Young Readers

an imprint of Penguin Group (USA) LLC

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To Soen and Sadie, the coolest cats I know “All . . .” -S.M. for my parents, carole and bob -R.H.L.

Dial Books for Young Readers Published by the Penguin Group | Penguin Group (USA) LLC 375 Hudson Street | New York, New York 10014

USA / Canada / UK / Ireland / Australia / New Zealand / India / South Africa / China penguin.com A Penguin Random House Company Text copyright © 2014 by Scott McCormick | Pictures copyright © 2014 by R. H. Lazzell Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data McCormick, Scott, date. Mr. Pants: it’s go time! / words by Scott McCormick ; pictures by R. H. Lazzell. pages cm Summary: On the last day of summer vacation, all Mr. Pants wants to do is play laser tag, but Mom and his sisters, Foot Foot and Grommy, have other ideas. ISBN 978-0-8037-4007-5 (hardcover) [1. Brothers and sisters—Fiction. 2. Cats—Fiction. 3. Behavior—Fiction.] I. Lazzell, R. H., illustrator. II. Title. PZ7.M47841437Mqi 2014 [E]—dc23 2013001969 Manufactured in China on acid-free paper 1

Designed by Jennifer Kelly | Text set in Archer The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

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S T N e T CON Chapter One THE DEAL 11 Chapter Two BOXY 23 Chapter Three PRINCESS PANTS 49 Chapter Four IT’S GO TIME 63 Chapter Five A TREAT FOR FEET 83 Chapter Six BATTLING BEDTIME STORIES 105 Chapter Seven WUB-BY! WUB-BY! WUB-BY! 119

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O A H HA H E E H HO HA HEE

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What are you laughing at, Mr. Pants?

HEE 5

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Some pictures I took of Foot Foot this summer.

Oh, brother.

Can I see?

Sure!

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HA HA

U E S O CL

* T R O

*SNEEHEE T

CRU MBY D R E N HEE HA

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E E H

HAA

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Grommy: Wanna see the pictures I took of Pants?

You didn’t take any pictures of me.

Didn’t I? 8

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BRU S

weirdo

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e pyh w s le

ea d!

crybaby!

pi ck

a go

o d on

heehee haha ha

ip r g ta

weirdo 9

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Well played, Feet.

pick a good one!

Well played.

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Chapter One:

THE DEAL

Please, Mom?

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Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m sorry, Mr. Pants. 3 10 17

4 11

5 12

6 13

1 7

LAST 19 24 20 DAY 25 OF 26 27 SUMME 31 R! 18

I did clean my room! FOOD

But you promised to take me to laser tag this summer and today is the last day! I said IF you cleaned your room.

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Did my new toy come, Mom?

It did, Foot Foot. Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll go get it.

Why does she get a new toy?

Your sister saved up her allowance and bought herself a present.

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Are we going to the Fairy Princess Dream Factory today, Mommy?

Weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re all set, Grommy.

Princess what??

Grommy cleaned her room, so she gets her summer treat.

GROMMY

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Can we go to laser tag after that princess thingy?

First of all, your room still isn’t clean . . .

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book

te am

pa n

mba u u V

! scrub

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p! swee

m Roo r ne Clea

FOOD

Done!

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Well, after the Fairy Princess Dream Factory, I have some shopping to do.

WHAT? No fair!

I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t even know what that means!

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Mr. Pants. You had all summer long to do one simple thing and now you have to deal with the consequences.

consequence n. 1. a result or eďŹ&#x20AC;ect of an action or condition

ary Diction s t for Ca

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I’ll make you a deal: IF you’re good and don’t ruin the day for your sisters . . .

OR ME . . .

And IF we still have time . . .

then and only then will I take you to laser tag.

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I’m OING G TO

LAsER

! G TA

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I’m

GOING TO

LAsER TAG!

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Is that what I said?

I’M GOING TO LASER TAG!

I don’t know. Can I have my new toy now?

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CHAPTER 1

Such a Baby My name is Dory, but everyone calls me Rascal. This is my family. I am the little kid.

My sister’s name is Violet and my brother’s

US ALONE!” Well, I’m not going to leave. But

name is Luke. Violet is the oldest. Violet and

I can’t think of what to say, so I ask questions.

Luke never want to play with me. They say I’m

Any question I can think of.

a baby. “Mom! Rascal is bothering us!” “What is she doing?” calls my mother.

All summer long, whenever I try to play with Luke and Violet, they say, “PLEASE LEAVE 2

My sister’s name is Violet and my brother’s

US ALONE!” Well, I’m not going to leave. But

name is Luke. Violet is the oldest. Violet and

I can’t think of what to say, so I ask questions.

Luke never want to play with me. They say I’m

Any question I can think of.

a baby. “Mom! Rascal is bothering us!” “What is she doing?” calls my mother.

All summer long, whenever I try to play with Luke and Violet, they say, “PLEASE LEAVE 2

“I can’t wait for school to start so we can get a break from Rascal!” says Violet.

“Why do you always call me a baby?” I complain.

“Me too!” grumbles Luke.

“Because you talk to yourself,” says Violet.

“Don’t talk about school!” I cover my ears. I

“And you have temper tantrums,” says Luke.

never want summer to end. I like to stay home

“And you play with monsters,” says Violet.

in my nightgown instead of getting dressed for Talk to myself? I have no idea what they are

school. “It’s a winter nightgown,” says Violet.

talking about. I never talk to MYSELF. I talk to

“And it’s inside out,” says Luke.

my friend Mary. No one can see her except me.

“And it’s backwards,” says Violet. “So what?” I say. “So, now that you turned six, you need to stop acting like such a baby!”

“I can’t wait for school to start so we can get a break from Rascal!” says Violet.

“Why do you always call me a baby?” I complain.

“Me too!” grumbles Luke.

“Because you talk to yourself,” says Violet.

“Don’t talk about school!” I cover my ears. I

“And you have temper tantrums,” says Luke.

never want summer to end. I like to stay home

“And you play with monsters,” says Violet.

in my nightgown instead of getting dressed for Talk to myself? I have no idea what they are

school. “It’s a winter nightgown,” says Violet.

talking about. I never talk to MYSELF. I talk to

“And it’s inside out,” says Luke.

my friend Mary. No one can see her except me.

“And it’s backwards,” says Violet. “So what?” I say. “So, now that you turned six, you need to stop acting like such a baby!”

Mary always

During the day, Mary follows me around.

wants to play

She wants to do whatever I’m doing. I usually

with me. She

don’t mind, but sometimes

thinks I’m the

I have to tell her no.

greatest.

At night, Mary sleeps under my bed.

“Okay. Mary, what do you want to play?” I ask. 6

Mary always

During the day, Mary follows me around.

wants to play

She wants to do whatever I’m doing. I usually

with me. She

don’t mind, but sometimes

thinks I’m the

I have to tell her no.

greatest.

At night, Mary sleeps under my bed.

“Okay. Mary, what do you want to play?” I ask. 6

Here are some things Mary likes to do:

Mary is my favorite, but my house is actually

the Broken Drawer Monster, the Vacuum

full of monsters. There is the Toilet Monster,

Monster, the Upstairs Hallway

who comes into the bathroom if you sit on the

Monster, the Living

toilet for too long.

Room Monster,

There is the

and more.

Ketchup Monster, who makes weird noises when you squeeze the ketchup. There is also the Laundry Monster, 12

Mary is my favorite, but my house is actually

the Broken Drawer Monster, the Vacuum

full of monsters. There is the Toilet Monster,

Monster, the Upstairs Hallway

who comes into the bathroom if you sit on the

Monster, the Living

toilet for too long.

Room Monster,

There is the

and more.

Ketchup Monster, who makes weird noises when you squeeze the ketchup. There is also the Laundry Monster, 12

I try to warn Luke and Violet when I see one.

But Luke and Violet donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t appreciate it. 14

I try to warn Luke and Violet when I see one.

But Luke and Violet donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t appreciate it. 14

After dinner Violet and Luke say they have something important to tell me. I follow them upstairs, skipping steps. I’m

Very slowly Violet asks me, “Rascal, have you ever heard . . . of . . . someone named Mrs. Gobble Gracker?”

so excited. What can it be? Violet lets me sit

I shake my head no.

on her bed. Maybe she will let me play with

“Well, Mrs. Gobble Gracker is a robber, and she steals baby girls,” says Violet.

Cherry.

“And she is five hundred and seven years old and has very sharp teeth!” adds Luke. “And, well,” says Violet, “you’re going to be really surprised when I tell you this.” “What?” I say. I am dying to know. “She’s been looking for you,” she says quickly. “Are you serious?” I ask. “Dead serious,” she says. “Mrs. Gobble Gracker is looking for me?” I ask in amazement. “Shhhh,” says Luke. “She’s so scary you 18

After dinner Violet and Luke say they have something important to tell me. I follow them upstairs, skipping steps. I’m

Very slowly Violet asks me, “Rascal, have you ever heard . . . of . . . someone named Mrs. Gobble Gracker?”

so excited. What can it be? Violet lets me sit

I shake my head no.

on her bed. Maybe she will let me play with

“Well, Mrs. Gobble Gracker is a robber, and she steals baby girls,” says Violet.

Cherry.

have to whisper when you say her name, like

in the front door? Will she ring the doorbell?”

this: Mrs. Gobble Gracker . . .”

I ask them.

“So, if I were you, I would stop acting like

Before they answer, I have some more ques-

such a baby . . . so she doesn’t come get you,”

tions, “Is she sneaky? Will I have to battle her?

says Violet. For a moment, I’m quiet.

Does she wear a long black cape? Is it made out of fur? Is it real fur or fake fur? Are her teeth rotting? Does she brush them? Does she have a really creepy-looking nose? Does she have a cat? Does she live in a cave? Does she have really long bones?” “WE DON’T KNOW! LEAVE US ALONE!” they shout, shaking their heads and walking away fast.

This is a lot to think about. Luke and Violet stare at me, as if they are waiting for me to cry. “How will she get in the house? Does she come 20

I follow Luke and Violet around the house. “Oh my gosh! What have we done?” says Luke, covering his ears. 21

have to whisper when you say her name, like

in the front door? Will she ring the doorbell?”

this: Mrs. Gobble Gracker . . .”

I ask them.

“So, if I were you, I would stop acting like

Before they answer, I have some more ques-

such a baby . . . so she doesn’t come get you,”

tions, “Is she sneaky? Will I have to battle her?

says Violet. For a moment, I’m quiet.

This is a lot to think about. Luke and Violet stare at me, as if they are waiting for me to cry. “How will she get in the house? Does she come 20

I follow Luke and Violet around the house. “Oh my gosh! What have we done?” says Luke, covering his ears. 21

“This is the worst idea we have ever had,” says Violet, trying to get away from me. “Ever,” says Luke. “Ever. Ever. Ever.” “I don’t even want to know what happens next,” says Violet.

CHAPTER 2

“Did You Hear the Doorbell Ring?” The next morning I warn Mary. “Mrs. Gobble Gracker is five hundred and seven years old, and she has black teeth that are sharp like needles, and her pockets are full of dirty tissues. And . . . she could be on her way over here right now, so don’t act like a baby.” I’ve never seen a monster so scared. 24

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INTENTIONAL BLANK

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Kiss and go lane “You’re leaving me,” said Posey. “I am not leaving you,” said her mom. “I am going to drop you off at the front of the school. Miss Lee will be there to meet you at your classroom door.”

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“It feels like you’re leaving me,” said Posey. “All the first-graders walk to their rooms,” her mom said. She slipped a spoonful of green peas into Danny’s mouth. “You’ll be fine. Eat your lunch now.”

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Posey didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t feel like eating. She was worried about the first day of school. It was only five days away. Posey was going to be in first grade. All summer long, her mom had talked about the fun things Posey was going to do. Like draw. And learn to read. And play games.

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But all Posey could think about was the sign in front of her school. It said, Kiss and Go Lane. It was where Posey had to kiss her mom good-bye. And open the car door. And walk into the school. All by herself.

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“Last year you didn’t drop me off,” Posey said. “You walked me to my class.” “Last year you were no bigger than a minute.” Her mom smiled. “You’re a big girl now.” “I don’t want to be a big girl.”

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Posey got off her chair and squatted down. She wrapped her arms around her knees. “See? I’m as small as I was last year.” Danny peered at her over the edge of his high chair and laughed.

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DESIGNER: KM

EDITOR: KA

PASS: FINAL

INT PAGE COUNT: 96

TITLE: AMBER BROWN IS NOT A CRAYON

FIGHTING WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND ISonNO novelFUN. spine

5.0625 X 7.75 SPINE: 0.25

PAULA DANZIGER

Amber Brownspine and Justin Daniels5/16" are bestand friends. width wider They’ve known each other for practically forever, sit next to each other in class, help each other with homework, and always stick PUFFIN up for LOGO each 2007-PDF TEMPLATES other. He never says things like, “Amber Brown is not a crayon.” She never says, “Justin Time.” They’re a great team . . . until disaster strikes. Justin has to move away and now the best friends are fighting. Will they be able to work it out before it’s too late?

on novel spine

Front / Back cover on novel spine spine width 3/8" and wider

READ MORE ABOUT THE COLORFUL spine width BROWN! narrower than 1/4" WORLD OF AMBER

(Sabon Bold 9pt)

PUFFIN LOGO 2004

HAVING THE Front / Back cover CHICKEN POX IS NO VACATION.

PAULA DANZIGER

It’s finally summer and Amber Brown is going to London to visit her aunt Pam and then to Paris to visit her father. She is one excited kid before she gets there. And one itchy kid when she arrives. Mosquito bites, she thinks. Chicken pox, on novel spine she findsspine out. width Is her 3/8" vacation completely ruined? and wider And now that she can’t go to Paris, how will she be able to convince her Dad to move back home? PUFFIN LOGO 2004

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on novel title page (Sabon11.5pt, track +)

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on novel spine spine width 5/16" and wider

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PUFFIN LOGO 2004

ISBN 0-14-240629-5

Triangle next to barcode

Ages 7 up

Front / Back cover

on novel spine spine width narrower than 1/4" (Sabon Bold 9pt)

PUFFIN LOGO 2007-PDF TEMP

on novel title page (Sabon11.5pt, track +)

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U.S.A. $4.99 / CAN. $5.99 PUFFIN BOOKS www.penguin.com/youngreaders

ISBN 0-14-240619-8

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p DATE: 6/20/12 9780142406199_ABNotCrayon_CV.indd 1

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PAGE: FCVR/BCVR EFFECTS: Gloss PUFFIN LOGO 2003

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6/28/12 11:19 AM

1 T w o f o r F l in c h ing “Two for flinching,” Jared Matthews says at lunch one Monday in January.

b op! He punches

me really hard on my right arm muscle—which is not very big, it’s true. It looks like a ping-pong ball, only brown. “I didn’t flinch,” I argue, rubbing my arm to make the sting go away. My name is EllRay Jakes, and I am eight years old. I am the smallest kid in Ms. Sanchez’s third grade class, even counting the girls, and Jared is the biggest. It’s like I am made out of sticks, and Jared is made out of logs. My dad says I’m going to get bigger someday, but when? “Here’s one to grow on, EllRay,” Jared’s kiss-up

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friend Stanley Washington says, his glasses gleaming like mean lizard eyes. And—

b op!

“EllRay wishes he would grow,” Jared says— because I’m so short. Great joke, Jared. And then Jared laughs like a cartoon donkey: “Haw, haw, haw ! ” It’s just another relaxing lunch on an ordinary day at Oak Glen Primary School, in Oak Glen, California. @ @ @ There is a third grade boys’ war going on at our school, but the three kids in the war—Jared Matthews, Stanley Washington, and me, EllRay Jakes—all act like nothing is wrong. Our teacher, Ms. Sanchez, doesn’t have a clue. Ms. Sanchez is smart about what goes on inside her classroom, but she doesn’t know what goes on outside—before school and during nutrition break, lunch, and afternoon recess. And outside is when school really happens for kids. . ,. 2 . ,.

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. ,. 3 . ,.

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“Good one, Stanley,” Jared says after Stanley insults me, and Jared high-fives him. “Bad one, Stanley,” I echo, trying to make fun of them. Stanley Washington is like Jared’s shadow. He wears glasses, like I said, and he has straight brown hair that flops over his forehead as if it has given up trying. Jared is chunky and strong, and he has frowning eyes, and his brown hair sticks up all over the place like a cat just licked it. His hair does whatever it wants, just like Jared. A couple of girls hop by, holding hands. Jared and Stanley step back, looking all innocent— because girls tell. Especially these girls, Cynthia Harbison and her kiss-up friend Heather Patton. “Icky boys,” Cynthia calls out over her shoulder. Cynthia is the cleanest person I have ever met. She is strangely clean. For instance, Cynthia’s fingernails never have any dirt under them. Also, her clothes never get any food, poster paint, or grass stains on them, no matter what. I don’t think she has very much fun, . ,. 4 . ,.

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and what’s the point in being that clean if it means you never get to have any fun? Cynthia has short, straight hair that she holds back with a plastic hoop, and Heather pulls her long hair back so tight in a ponytail that her eyes always look scared. But maybe Heather really is scared— from hanging around mean, bossy Cynthia all the time! Cynthia is like Jared, only without the hitting. “Hey, EllRay, why don’t you go sit on the grass with the rest of the girls?” Jared asks me when Cynthia and Heather have hopped away to the other side of the playground. . ,. 5 . ,.

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“Yeah, crybaby,” Stanley says. “Go sit with the girls.” “I’m not even crying, Stanley-ella,” I say, pretending he is the girl. It’s the best put-down I can come up with on such short notice. “That’s not even my name, so duh,” Stanley says. “Duh ,” I say back at him. I want to turn around and walk away. But if I do, Jared will probably grab me from the back, tight, and start grinding his knuckles into my ribs. This is one of his favorite things to do, because from far away, you can’t tell anything bad is going on. Jared’s supreme goal is to make me cry someday— in front of the entire class. So I have to wait for Jared and Stanley to be the ones to walk away first. I would rather be playing kickball with Corey Robinson and Kevin McKinley, who are my friends, but it’s not exactly like I have a choice right now. “Duh,” I say again. I don’t know why. Finally, finally, finally the recess bell rings, and Jared gives Stanley a friendly pretend-shove, . ,. 6 . ,.

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and Stanley gives Jared a shove too, only not as hard, because Jared is the boss. And they walk away without even looking at me. Like I’m nothing! “Come on, EllRay,” Emma McGraw says as she skips by with red-haired Annie Pat Masterson. “We have Spanish this afternoon, and Ms. Sanchez is going to talk about food. Taquitos, burritos, and enchiladas and stuff. Yum!” Emma is the second-littlest kid in our class, but she loves to eat. I think it’s her main hobby. “Hurry up,” Annie Pat calls out, and she and Emma skip away. And so I hurry up. But I don’t skip, because boys just don’t. Not at Oak Glen Primary School, anyway. And probably not anywhere. Not when they have arm muscles the size of ping-pong balls.

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Watch for more books in the George Brown, Class Clown series!

Super Burp!

Ask George what’s new in his life and he’ll tell you just about everything. His family has moved to a new town, far from all his friends in the Katie Kazoo, Switcheroo series. He’s at a new school with new kids and a new teacher. He’s even taken a new name—George Brown. Plus, George is trying hard to turn over a new leaf. No more pranks or clowning around. Will he succeed or will those crazy magic burps keep landing him in trouble?

George Brown, Class Clown

How much trouble can a burp get you into? A lot, if the burp is a magic one that makes you do wild and crazy stuff.

GROSSET&DUNLAP GROSSET&DUNLAP www.penguin.com/youngreaders www.penguin.com/youngreaders www.penguin.com/GeorgeBrown

Krulik • Grosset & Dunlap

$4.99 US ($5.99 CAN)

by Nancy Krulik

illustrated by Aaron Blecha

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Yo George, is, but I Never thought I’d say th you won’t be think it stinks that ymore. Now going to our school an in class 4A I’ll be the only one jokes always telling jokes, and my rs. sounded better next to you school, At least at your new guy. you can be the funny Your pal, Kadeem

George lay on his bed and stared at Kadeem’s page in the Good-bye, George book the kids at his old school had made

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for him. All the fourth-graders had written something. But Kadeem’s page was the one that made George the saddest and the maddest. Sad because now he had no friends to tell jokes to. And mad because Kadeem made it sound like his jokes were funnier than George’s. And that wasn’t true. No way! George reread what Kevin, his best friend, had written. At least Kevin used to be George’s best friend. Could you stay best friends with someone far away?

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George started to laugh. No one was more afraid of bugs than mean Mrs. Jerkman. (That was what George had always called his strict third-grade teacherâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;at least behind her back.) Freaking her out was always fun. George turned the page in his book. The next note was from Suzanne Lock.

Even seeing that cheered George up. Suzanne hadnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t wanted to write anything. Her teacher had made her do 3

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it. Not that George blamed Suzanne. It wasn’t like they’d ever been friends or anything. But the note on the page next to Suzanne’s was from one of George’s really good friends.

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George thought Katie’s last name, Carew, sounded like a kazoo. And the nickname had stuck. Katie was a really good friend. And she was pretty smart. But she was wrong about George. He was scared to be living in a new town and starting in a new school today. George had a lot of practice being the new kid. His dad was in the army and his family moved around a lot. But it was never easy. After spending two whole years in Cherrydale, he had almost started feeling like an “old” kid. Then— BAM—here he was in Beaver Brook. “George! It’s 0-800 hours. Gotta get a move on! Front and center!” His dad’s deep voice echoed through the halls of their new house. It was a lot bigger than their old house. Even with all their furniture, it felt empty. In fact, the 5

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long upstairs hallway would be great for skateboarding—except his mom never let him skateboard in the house. George grabbed his backpack and headed downstairs. For a second, he thought about sliding down the banister. Then he stopped himself. That was something the old George would do. Now, besides being the new kid, he wanted to be a new George. And the new George didn’t do dumb stuff like that, dumb stuff that got him into trouble. The last time George slid down a banister was at his old school. He’d flipped over the side of the staircase and wound up with a black eye and a bloody nose. And not just a regular bloody nose. A super-colossal bloody nose. The kind that turns your nose into a 6

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blood fountain. The school nurse said sheâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d never seen anything like it. It had been sort of gross. But sort of cool, too.

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“Got everything, honey?” George’s mom asked as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “Pencils? Notebooks? Lunch?” “Check, check, and check,” George said. “That shirt looks really nice,” his mother told him. “Thanks,” George said. His new green T-shirt had a picture of a blob on the middle of it. It was really cool. The perfect first day of school shirt. “Okay, soldier,” his dad said. “Ready to march?” “Yes, sir,” George answered. He saluted his dad. His dad saluted back and then gave him a big bear hug. “Then let’s go,” George’s dad said. As George headed to his new school, he thought about Cherrydale Elementary School. Not to brag, but everybody there

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liked him. He was famous for being the funny kid—the class clown. Of course, pranks also got him into more trouble than anyone. It seemed to George that he’d spent as much time in the principal’s office as he had in class. But that wasn’t going to happen in Beaver Brook. No more class clown! George was turning over a new leaf. He was through with getting in trouble. He was going to act differently from now on. So differently, in fact, that he’d decided to start school with a new last name. His dad’s last name was Brennan. And that was the last name George had used all his life. There was nothing wrong with that name. But from now on, George was using his mom’s last name— Brown. New name, new George. “George Brown,” George murmured 9

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quietly under his breath. “George Brown.” “What did you say?” his dad asked him. “I was just trying out my new name,” George explained. “Oh,” George’s dad replied. “You’re okay about this, aren’t you, Dad?” George asked his father. “Sure.” Only his dad didn’t sound so sure. “I guess it’ll just take a little getting used to. But I understand wanting to change things up. Look at me. I’ve traveled all over with the army. New people, new places. Lots of changes.” That was true. His dad’s job was the reason the family was always moving. It was why George always seemed to be the new kid. “But we’re going to stay at this base for a while,” George’s dad continued. “At least I hope so. Your mom is really excited about opening her own store. I don’t think she

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wants to pack up and move again.” “Yeah, I guess,” George said. Having a dad in the army was cool. But having a mom who owned the Knit Wit—a shop that sold yarn, knitting needles, and beads—was, well . . . not so much. George kept up with his dad’s long strides, trying to ignore the nervous feeling in his stomach. His mom called it having butterflies in your belly. But that wasn’t what it felt like. It was more like worms. Big, long, slimy worms slithering around inside. They turned a corner. There it was. George stopped and stared at his new school. It was a redbrick building with a flagpole in front. Over the door it said Edith B. Sugarman Elementary School. Except for the name, it looked pretty much like all the other schools George had gone to. 11

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“Edith B. Sugarman?” George wondered. “Is that somebody famous?” His dad shrugged. “Never heard of her. But the name doesn’t really matter. Your

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new school has a fine reputation.â&#x20AC;? George didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t agree at all. Names did matter. A lot. And no one knew that better than George Brown.

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Sir Steve Stevenson

AN)

The Curse of the Pharaoh

$5.99 U

($6.99 C

Girl of Mystery

sts p of archaeologi u o gr a , gs in K the haraoh. In the Valley of a mysterious p f o b m to e th d .. have unearthe ary discovery . n o ti lu vo re a e well b ns to This could very ith the directio w t le b ta s u o ci too bad the pre case that olen. This is a st n e e b as h b find the tom e! istery can solv only Agatha M

Agaďż˝a

, internationally Agatha Mistery ive, jets off to fabulous detect a first book in Egypt in this c ing and exoti series of excit . span the globe mysteries that

Agaďż˝a The Curse of the Pharaoh

First Mission Agents

Agatha Twelve years old, an aspiring mystery writer; has a formidable memory

Dash Student at the prestigious private school, Eye International Detective Academy

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Chandler Butler and former boxer with impeccable British style

Watson Obnoxious Siberian cat with the nose of a bloodhound

Aunt Patricia Lives in a lavish Luxor villa . . . and breeds camels!

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Destination Egypt: Valley of the Kings

Cairo

Luxor

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Objective

To discover who stole an ancient artifact from an archaeological dig in the Valley of the Kingsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;where the sun sets and the pharaohs have slept in their tombs for thousands of years. And beware of Tutankhamenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s curse.

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P r el u de

The Investigation Begins . . .

The penthouse sat high atop of Baker Palace,

fifteen floors above street level. Its roof was

covered with state-of-the-art solar panels, and if you stood on the wraparound terrace and peered in through the tinted-glass windows, the first thing you’d see was a mass of high-

tech electronics—monitors, Wi-Fi antennas, and routers—surrounded by pizza boxes, fast-food bags, and dirty socks.

The only person at home was a lanky fourteen-

year-old boy, sprawled out snoring on the couch with his dark hair flopped over his face. He

had left his seven computers on all night long, 1

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Prelude

downloading data from around the world. His face was lit up by LED lights flashing like fireflies in the darkened room.

Outside the penthouse London, England, was

already bathed in a milky haze. It had been a sweltering summer, too hot for tourists, and the Thames River looked like a strip of shiny tar.

Not far from Baker Palace, the famous Big

Ben clock tower chimes struck six times. The low

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The Investigation Begins . . .

notes rattled the walls, but Dashiell Mistery slept like a rock.

Dash was not a morning person. He liked

lazing around the penthouse all day and never

started his homework till late at night, usually with the music cranked. His report cards said it

all: Dash was getting straight As in Surveillance Technologies, but he was flunking everything else.

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Prelude

“Instead of going to that crazy detective

school, why don’t you study engineering?” his mother would beg on the rare occasions when they had a real conversation. “The Mistery family could use a few people with practical skills.” Dash shrugged and said, “Don’t forget

Grandpa Ellery, Mom. He’s at CERN in Geneva studying subatomic particles. That’s pretty hard-

core.” And the conversation would end with his

mom sighing, “He’s a nuclear physicist, not a

normal engineer. All you Mistery men have to do something different!”

Dash secretly liked being known as a “Mistery

man.” After her divorce, his mother never missed a chance to label the Mistery family a pack of oddballs. First and foremost was her ex-husband, Edgar Allan Mistery, a champion curler. (Curling

is an Olympic sport played with brooms and polished rocks on an ice rink; it isn’t exactly 4

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The Investigation Begins . . .

mainstream.) Every one of Edgar’s relatives was part of her roll call of hopeless eccentrics.

6:15 a.m.: Second wake-up attempt. The

words

red alert

flashed on a monitor screen,

accompanied by the theme from Star Trek, and

a metallic voice that kept repeating, “Man the lifeboats!”

This time around, Dash’s forehead was

targeted by a laser-tag strobe light. The room looked like the bridge of an alien spaceship.

But it was no use: Dash just rolled over and

buried his head in the pillow. Within seconds, he was out like a light.

6:30 a.m.: Final attempt. First the phone rang

several times. Then the automatic blinds rolled up, buzzing, while a wall of speakers blasted the latest hit.

A neighbor banged on the door, yelling, “This

isn’t a nightclub, you slacker!” 5

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Prelude

Still nothing.

Finally at precisely 6:36 a.m., in the middle of

all the deafening chaos, there was a tiny blip. It came from a titanium gadget, shaped like a cell phone, which hung from a charger cord over the couch.

That faint blip rang in Dash’s ears like a volley

of gunfire. Without getting up, he reached out, grabbed the gadget, and pressed a few buttons. A dreadful message flashed onto the screen.

The second that Dash read it, his eyes bulged.

“Today?” he yelled. “There’s absolutely no way!” He jumped to his feet. This was a total

disaster. He grabbed various remotes, clicking off the alarms, ringtones, and speakers. “There’s

no time to sort all this out. I have to . . . I have to . . . what do I have to do?!” he exclaimed.

He perched on the arm of a chair, quickly

booting up his seven computers, which came to life with a flash of white light. “I’ll email Agatha!” 6

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The Investigation Begins . . .

he said aloud. “But will she read it in time?” He

checked the gadget again, with a grimace. “No, better not. If they hack into my email, it’s all over.”

Where did he put that cordless phone? He

found it under a burger wrapper. Feverishly he

scrolled through his contacts, “Adam, Adrian . . . Agatha! Got it!”

He started to text her, but stopped. What if

they’d put a bug on his phone? They were experts at stuff like that!

“Okay, don’t panic, Dash,” he whispered.

“Concentrate. What’s the best way to get a

message to Agatha without anyone listening in?”

He ran a hand through his floppy hair and made a decision.

Dash stepped onto the terrace, unlatched the

door to his aviary, and grabbed his trusty carrier pigeon. “Time to put you to work, buddy. The Mistery Cousins need you!” 7

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Give this dog a bone —a magic bone — and see where in the world it takes him!

Dig up another Magic Bone book ! Give this dog a bone—a magic bone— and see where in the world it takes him!

Dig up another Magic Bone book ! 5/13

Give this dog a bone—a magic bone— and see where in the world it takes him!

Dig up another Magic Bone book at your favorite store! NANCY KRULIK

Give this dog a bone—a magic bone— and see where in the world it takes him!

NANCY KRULIK

CATCH THAT DOG WAVE

With one bite of his magic bone, Sparky lands on a beach in Hawaii. What’s a dog to do? Eat, make friends, eat, learn to hula, eat, surf, and eat! But when the waves get too high, Sparky has to decide if he should rescue a friend or his magic bone. Because without his bone, he’ll never get home! What will this dog do?

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU SNIFF FOR

of a deliciousWhen Sparky takes a bite in his backyard, he’s smelling bone he dug up chomp, kaboom! in for a big surprise. Chomp, to London. Sparky is magically transported of course. Snif f, What’s a puppy to do? Eat, leads him to sausage, snif f, snif f—Sparky’s nose His only hope cheese, and . . . the dogcatcher?! bite of his bone. for escape is to take another nowhere near it! Will His only problem: He’s it home? Sparky ever be able to make

NANCY KRULIK

CATCH THAT DOG WAVE

bone, Sparky With one bite of his magic What’s a dog lands on a beach in Hawaii. eat, learn to hula, to do? Eat, make friends, the waves get eat, surf, and eat! But when if he should too high, Sparky has to decide bone. Because rescue a friend or his magic get home! without his bone, he’ll never What will this dog do?

NANCY KRULIK

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU SNIFF FOR

e of a deliciousWhen Sparky takes a bit in his backyard, he’s smelling bone he dug up omp, chomp, kaboom! in for a big surprise. Ch ported to London. Sparky is magically trans t, of course. Snif f, What’s a puppy to do? Ea se leads him to sausage, snif f, snif f—Sparky’s no atcher?! His only hope cheese, and . . . the dogc her bite of his bone. for escape is to take anot nowher e near it! W ill His only pr oblem: He’s ke it home? Sparky ever be able to ma

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KRULIK

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C A T C H T H A T D O G W AV E

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BOUND GALLEY

Illustrated by Sebastien Braun

BE CAR EFUL

W H AT Y O U S N I F F F O R

KRULIK

$4.99 US

($5.99 CAN)

Illustrated by Sebastien Braun

C A T C H T H A T D O G W AV E

KRULIK

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Illustrated by Sebastien Braun

BE CAR E F U L W H AT YO U S N I F F F O R

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CHAPTER 1 Wiggle, waggle, wheee! I take a flying leap and land right on the big couch in the living room. I know I’m not supposed to go on the furniture. But I can’t help it—this couch is so soft and comfy. Jiggle, jiggle, jiggle. I roll onto my back and wave my paws in the air. Wriggle, wriggle, wriggle. I flip over and squirm on the soft cushions. “Hello, yard!” I bark as I stand up on my back paws to look out the window. I can see my whole yard

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from here. Well, I could see it—if my fur weren’t in my eyes. Stupid fur. Always getting in my way. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. My paws scratch the fur away from my eyes. Scratch, scratch, scr . . . Crash!

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Wiggle, waggle, yikes! My stupid paws just knocked the ticktock toy, which was on the table next to the couch, onto the floor. I hop down to take a look. The ticktock toy has a big crack in it. And it isn’t ticking or tocking anymore. “Look what you did!” I bark angrily at my paws. Of course, my paws don’t look. Or answer. They can’t. Paws don’t have eyes. Or mouths. Paws just have fur. Like the fur that got in my eyes and caused this whole mess in the first place. Bump. Bump. Bump. Bump.

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That’s the sound of Josh’s two legs running down the stairs. Actually, he’s stomping down the stairs. Which means I’m in trouble. “Bad dog!” Josh yells. See what I mean? I don’t understand a whole lot of two-leg words, but I know what bad dog means. I wriggle under the table and give Josh my best sad-dog face. “I’m sorry,” I whimper. 4

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Josh doesn’t answer. That’s probably because he doesn’t speak dog. My tail slips between my legs. It knows Josh is angry, too. Which is pretty amazing, since my tail doesn’t have ears to hear Josh yelling. Or eyes to see his angry face. “Sparky . . . ,” Josh says to me, shaking his head. His mouth keeps on moving. And I can hear sounds coming out of his mouth. But I can only understand my name, Sparky. I know he isn’t too angry, because now he’s smiling. That’s something dogs and two-legs do to be friendly. I guess it’s okay to crawl out from under the table now. Josh kneels down to scratch me 5

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between the ears. I love when Josh scratches me. I think he must be the best two-leg scratcher in the whole world. â&#x20AC;&#x153;A little to the left,â&#x20AC;? I bark as I cock my head to the side. My tail pops out from between my legs and starts wagging wildly. Crash!

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Wiggle, waggle, yikes! There goes the tall, skinny glass water bowl Josh keeps on the table. I don’t get how you’re supposed to drink from that water bowl. You can’t really get the water out, even if you stick your tongue all the way in. I know. I’ve tried. Josh must think it’s a weird water bowl, too, because he never drinks from it. He just uses it to hold flowers. Well, he used to. Now it’s in pieces. The flowers are all over the floor. Water is everywhere. “Sparky!” Josh shouts.

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I turn around and bark at my rear end. â&#x20AC;&#x153;Stupid tail. Why did you hit the water bowl?â&#x20AC;? I reach my head around and try to grab my tail with my teeth. My tail tucks itself between my legs again. I reach back farther. My tail tucks itself tighter. I reach. It tucks. I reach. It tucks. My tail and I are running around and around in circles.

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“Grrrr,” Josh grumbles. He grabs my collar and leads me to the backyard. When he growls like that, Josh almost sounds like he’s talking dog. I can tell he’s saying I have to stay outside while he cleans up my mess. I’m pretty smart for a little puppy. After he cleans up, Josh will probably get in his big machine with the four round paws. Then he’ll drive away for the whole day. But that’s okay. Because now my tail and I can play, play, play! And there’s nothing I like better to do than play!

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“I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” The football soared right toward Katie Carew. She ran toward the ball, reached out her hands and . . . oomph! She missed it completely. “You took your eyes off it again,” Katie’s best friend, Jeremy Fox, said, jogging up to her. He pushed his thin wire glasses higher up on his nose and ran his hands through his curly brown hair. “I know,” Katie replied simply. What else could she say? “Katie, I can’t believe you did that!” Kevin Camilleri shouted across the field. “You lost 1

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the whole game for us.” Just then George Brennan came charging across the field. He had a big smile on his face. Katie groaned. Of course George was happy. His team had just won the game— thanks to Katie’s fumble! “Don’t yell at the secret weapon,” George told Kevin. “Secret weapon? Are you kidding?” Kevin asked. “Secret weapons help win games, George.” “Exactly,” George agreed. “Katie’s the secret weapon for our team!” Katie blinked her eyes tight. She didn’t want George to see her cry. “Forget about George,” Jeremy whispered to Katie. “He can’t help being mean. He was just born that way.” Katie tried to smile. “Could be,” she said. The truth was, Katie wasn’t really sure why George was nasty to everyone in class 3A. Most new kids tried to make friends. Not

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George. He tried to make enemies. Just then, Katie’s other best friend, Suzanne Lock, ran across the playground to them. “Let’s go play on the monkey bars for a while,” she suggested, pulling Katie and Jeremy away from George. “I’ll bet I can hang upside down longer than either of you.” Katie stared at Suzanne. Her friend was wearing a skirt! “You’re going to turn upside down in that?” Katie asked.

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“Sure!” Suzanne said, yanking her skirt up to her bellybutton. Katie’s mouth flew open. Jeremy blushed. “It’s okay, you guys,” Suzanne laughed. “See, I’m wearing shorts under here. This way I can wear a skirt and still play.” Katie laughed. Leave it to Suzanne to find a way to look pretty and still hang upside down on the jungle gym. “Okay! Last one at the monkey bars is a rotten egg,” Katie called as she dashed away. Suzanne and Jeremy took off after Katie. Katie held on to her lead, but not for long. Jeremy was the fastest runner in the class. He quickly pulled up next to Katie. Katie took a deep breath. She moved her feet faster than ever. But not fast enough. Jeremy zoomed into the lead. Katie frowned. Well, at least she was ahead of Suzanne. Katie turned her head to see just how far behind Suzanne was and . . .

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Splat! Katie stepped right into a big, wet puddle. Gushy brown mud splashed all over her. Katie stopped running and looked down at her jeans. “Oh, no!” she cried out. “What a mess!” Katie wasn’t kidding. She was a total mess. There were mud splatters all over her jeans. Her favorite jeans—the ones with the pink and blue flowers embroidered all over them. If this were first grade, Katie could have changed into the clean clothes in her cubby. But Katie was in third grade now. Nobody in third grade kept a change of clothes at school. That was for babies. Katie

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was going to have to wear her mud-stained jeans for the whole rest of the day. “Nice one, Carew,” George shouted across the yard. “Check it out, everybody! There’s a Mud Monster in the playground.” George stuck his arms straight out and walked around the yard pretending to be Frankenstein. The other kids laughed. Katie wanted to cry. This was the worst recess ever. She wished Mrs. Derkman would blow her whistle and make everyone go in to class. Even doing schoolwork had to be better than this! “George, go away or I’m gonna tell,” Suzanne warned as she ran over to defend her friend. A big smile formed on George’s chubby, round face. “Yeah, like I’m real scared,” he laughed while he pretended to tremble. “What’s Mrs. Jerkman going to do? Call my mommy?” Katie and Suzanne stared at George in

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amazement. He’d just called their teacher, Mrs. Derkman, a mean name—and he hadn’t even whispered it! He didn’t seem scared to have the teacher phone his mom, either. Before Katie or Suzanne could answer George, Mrs. Derkman blew her red whistle three times. Phew! Recess was over. It was time to go back to class. Katie was very glad. She used her hands to wipe off some of the mud, and then ran to line up. “You okay?” Jeremy whispered to Katie. “I guess,” Katie replied. “George is a creep. You know that.” Katie nodded. But knowing that wasn’t going to make George stop calling her the Mud Monster. He’d probably go at it all day, unless . . . Katie couldn’t help wishing that someone else would do something embarrassing that afternoon. Then maybe George Brennan would tease that kid instead.

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New York Times Best-Selling Author

verything changes for Alfie and his sister, Emilia, when their great-aunt shows up—and adds a little magic to their lives!

Look out for another adventure! New York Times Best-Selling Author

Cover illustration by Francesca Gambetesa Photo by Amy Neunsinger

verything changes for Alfie and his sister, Emilia, when their great-aunt shows up—and adds a little magic to their lives!

Photo by Amy Neunsinger

New York Times Best-Selling Author

verything changes for Alfie and his sister Emilia when their great aunt shows up—and adds a little magic to their lives!

Other adventures also available:

$6.99 US

($7.99 CAN)

NAPLES!

In this adventure, Alfie and Emilia find themselves in Naples, where they meet Marco and get caught up in a race to find the best ingredients for his family’s entry in the annual pizza festival.

www.penguin.com/youngreaders

Naples!

$6.99 US

($7.99 CAN)

www.penguin.com/youngreaders

PARIS!

Look out for another adventure!

Paris!

Photo by Amy Neunsinger

In this adventure, Emilia is thrilled when she and Alfie discover that they’re in Paris. But Alfie isn’t so excited, especially when a case of mistaken identity lands them in hot water at a French cooking school.

$16.99 US

($18.00 CAN)

n this adventure, Alfie and Emilia find themselves transported to Naples, where they meet Marco, a young Italian boy on a mission to find the allimportant ingredients for his family’s entry in the city’s annual pizza contest. In their whirlwind search, Alfie and Emilia not only get a taste of Italy, but also find themselves refereeing a feud in Marco’s family.

NAPLES!

In this adventure, Alfie and Emilia find themselves in Naples, where they become friends with Marco and get caught up in a race to find the best ingredients for his family’s entry in the city’s annual pizza festival.

GROSSET & DUNLAP 345 Hudson Street New York, New York 10014 Printed in the U.S.A. 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

hen Zia Donatella comes to live with the Bertolizzi family, little do Alfie and his older sister, Emilia, know what’s in store for them. Zia Donatella is determined to show them how a home-cooked meal is better than even the best takeout pizza. And when Zia’s plan actually transports Alfie and Emilia to famous food cities around the world, they learn firsthand how food can not only take you places but can also bring you back home.

Photo by Amy Neunsinger

Giada De Laurentiis was born in Rome and grew up in a big Italian family. They spent lots of time together in the kitchen, which is where Giada discovered her love of cooking! She honed her skills at Le Cordon Bleu, a very cool cooking school in Paris. Many puff pastries and a graduation later, Giada began working in a fab restaurant called Spago in Los Angeles. She is now the Emmy Award–winning star of several Food Network programs, as well as the author of six cookbooks. She lives with her husband, Todd, and daughter, Jade, in a cozy house by the beach in Los Angeles. Giada loves the colors “pesto green” and “eggplant purple,” and Nutella pancakes

www.penguin.com/youngreaders www.giadadelaurentiis.com

Naples!

1 “Alfredo!” Mom called from the kitchen as she flipped open two Presto Pesto pizza boxes in the middle of the table. “Let’s go! Dinner! Emilia! You too!” Alfie gladly tossed aside his geography homework— his favorite subject—and ran down the hall to the kitchen. He loved maps, but he loved food more. In the kitchen, he reached across the table and scooped up a slice of Supreme Meat Machine pizza, which sagged under the weight of three kinds of meat, four kinds of cheese, and two kinds of olives. Alfie tilted his head back, aimed the tip of the slice into his open mouth, and started backing out of the kitchen. ~1~

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“Hang on,” Mom said. “Where do you think you’re going?” “Mmph rooph. Learning about rifers in Egypt.” “You eat at the table with the famiglia. Sit down and get a napkin,” Mom said. “Where’s your sister?” His sister, Emilia, older by just one year, entered the kitchen with her eyes glued to the history textbook in her hand. She looked up and inspected the pizza boxes. “Why are we having pizza now?” she asked. “We’re in charge of bringing pizza to school on Friday for United Nations Day.” Their school was going to “taste the foods of the world,” as ~2~

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Emilia’s teacher, Ms. Esch, said. Alfie and Emilia, whose classes would be combined for one afternoon, offered to bring pizza to represent the food of Italy, since that’s where their family was from. “Mauricio! Andiamo! Mangiamo!” Mom called to the kids’ dad, as she slid a slice of pizza onto a paper plate. “Then that’ll be three times this week,” Emilia said with a sigh as she stared at the pizza. “That’s why this week rules,” Alfie said. Why did his sister love to act like awesome things weren’t awesome? Emilia inspected Alfie’s spread. “You can’t eat all the meat slices. Mom, he’s taking all the Supreme Meat.” “I’m a growing man,” Alfie said. “I need protein.” “Please, you’re barely eleven,” Emilia said. “Give me one, boy.” She tried to snatch one off his plate, but he quickly pulled it away. “Mom! Tell Alfredo to give me the Supreme Meat.” She used his proper name just to bug him—he despised his given name, which is why he went by the nickname Alfie. ~3~

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“Kids, share,” Mom said. “Emilia, pull your hair back. It’s getting in your slice.” She brushed Emilia’s long, wavy hair, which was golden at the ends, back over her shoulder. “I got it,” Emilia said. She tucked her hair into the back of her fuchsia shirt. “You should cut that mop,” Alfie said. “You look like a mermaid.” “I’ll take that as a compliment.” “Ciao, ciao!” a voice called from the front door. “Hello, hello!” Dad was finally home. “We’re in here!” Mom hollered back. “And I,” Dad said, his voice getting closer, “found a surprise on our doorstep.” In the doorway stood a slim, tiny woman in ridiculously high heels. Her salt-and-pepper hair was tied back in a loose braid, showing off the chunky gold and multicolored-stone necklace around her neck. She wore a graphic T-shirt under a dark blazer, slim jeans, ~4~

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and roughed-up tan leather boots. She was older than their mom, but somehow the clothes looked right on her. “Ciao, famiglia!” she said, spreading her arms wide. “Bambina! Arianna!” she said to Mom. “Zia!” Mom said, using the Italian word for aunt and dropping her slice on the table with a thunk. She sprang from her seat, and she and Zia wrapped each other up in a tight, twirling hug, laughing and screaming the whole time. “Zia! Zia! You’re here! Come sta?” “Molto bene!” Zia laughed. “Molto bene!” “I thought you were coming next week,” Mom said to Zia Donatella, holding her tight around her small waist. ~5~

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“You knew Donatella was coming?” Dad asked from the doorway. “I’m sorry. Didn’t I tell you?” Mom said. Dad eyed Mom while he set down the two large suitcases. Great-aunt Donatella was from Italy—just like their mom and dad—but she lived all over the world, traveling from country to country searching for adventures. It’d been a while since they’d seen her, but Alfie loved her visits. She told stories of places he’d never even thought of visiting. Zia Donatella gave him his first world map when he was five, pointing to a spot in Egypt where she had just seen ancient pyramids. Since then, Alfie covered his walls with maps, memorizing capitals, rivers, mountains, and everything else he thought might be useful for his future job as a professional explorer. “Kids, give your great-aunt Donatella a hug!” Mom said. While Emilia hugged Zia tightly around her waist, Alfie stood at a cool distance. As excited as he was to see her, he was getting older and didn’t think he should hug ~6~

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her like she was Santa Claus at the mall. “My goodness, how you’ve both grown!” Zia Donatella said. When Emilia finally released Zia from her hug, Zia stepped closer to Alfie, taking his face in her hands. Alfie couldn’t help but smile. “Bello!” “Want some dinner?” Alfie offered. “We got pizza!” Zia Donatella looked at the cardboard boxes and slices of pizza on the table, now cooled with sweating cheese on top. “Ma che mangiate? What are you eating? This is your dinner?” “Don’t start, Zia Donatella,” Mom said, combining the remaining pizza into one box and tossing the other. “We’re just busy. Besides, we’re not amazing chefs like you are.” “It doesn’t take a chef to cook a homemade meal, ragazza,” Zia said. “Zia, have you run into any bulls lately?” Alfie asked, remembering the story she had told of watching bulls race through a Spanish town; she was almost pummeled by them. ~7~

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Zia Donatella smiled and said, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Thankfully, no. But I did see a wildebeest in Namibia.â&#x20AC;? ~8~

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“That’s awesome!” “He tasted pretty good, too,” she said, winking. Alfie was so stunned that for a moment he couldn’t react. Then he said, “Mom! Can we have wildebeest for dinner tomorrow night?” “I don’t think the Save ’n Shop here carries that,” Mom said. Eyeing the pizza, Zia said, “Does this food you’re eating have a name?” “Fast,” Emilia said, making Alfie snort out a laugh as she tried to hide her own giggle. “Zia, don’t you know pizza when you see it?” Alfie asked because—seriously!—it was food from their motherland! “You poor children. You really think this is pizza.” Zia looked more upset than offended. “Let me cook something,” Zia said, pushing back her chair. “Mi piace molto cuocere! I love to cook!” “Zia,” Mom said, but Zia had already started digging ~9~

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through the pantry. She found canned fruit cocktail, individually wrapped cinnamon rolls, and boxed mac and cheese. She held a can of peas up to Mom and asked, “Will I find anything fresh in the refrigerator?” “Why don’t we get you settled in?” Dad suggested. “Tomorrow we can shop. Honey?” he said to Mom, asking with a nod where to put Zia’s bags. “Well, why don’t you take . . . ?” She looked between Emilia and Alfie. They knew what was coming—someone was about to lose his or her room. Emilia sat up straight in a desperate attempt to show how responsible she was and therefore how deserving of keeping her room. Alfie tried the opposite approach. He murdered the last slice of Supreme Meat Machine, hoping to show Mom how messy he was and that no one in her right mind would ever put any human in his room. It was strictly an “at your own risk” sort of place. “You can take . . . Alfie’s room,” Mom declared. “Mom!” Alfie said. “That’s not fair!” ~10~

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“Emilia is the oldest,” Mom said. “But I’m the man!” he said. “Ha! You wish,” Emilia said. Alfie felt bad about being rude in front of Zia Donatella, but he couldn’t believe he was getting kicked out of his room. “Where am I going to sleep?” “Well,” Mom said, thinking. “Maybe you could bunk in Emilia’s room?” “No!” he and Emilia both yelled at the same time. At least they agreed on that. “He can take the pullout sofa in the office,” Dad said. “If we put an air mattress on top, it’s not that bad.” “Not that bad,” Alfie thought. Translation: future spine surgery may be required. “Great, then it’s settled,” Mom said. “But first, Alfredo, get that room straightened up.” Alfie sulked to his room to clean it up—and to say arrivederci to his privacy.

~11~

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1 WIDMARK/WILLIS WIDMARK/WILLIS

EPT IN G C C A NOW G AND N I T I C X E R OU S E G N A D E NT S ! M N G I S AS

The Diamond Mystery

n between hanging out, riding their bikes, and playing video games, best friends and classmates Jerry and Maya run a detective agency in their small town.

$13.99 US

($15.99 CAN)

LOOK OUT FOR ANOTHER MYSTERY!

The TheDiamond Diamond Mystery Mystery

In this mystery, somebody is stealing diamonds from the local jewelerâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;and it looks like the culprit is someone on the jewelerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s staff. But just who is it? The police chief, stumped by the case, asks Jerry and Maya to help crack it. Will they be able to use their superior skills to find the thief? As they know, even a tiny clue can be worth its weight in gold.

Martin Widmark illustrated by Helena Willis

The Diamond Mystery The books in The Whodunit Detective Agency series are set in the charming little town of Pleasant Valley. It’s the sort of close-knit community where nearly everyone knows one another. The town and characters are all fictional, of course . . . or are they? The main characters, Jerry and Maya, are classmates and close friends who run a small detective agency together.

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PLEASANT VALLEY

SCHOOL

Museum

T M U SEU M ST R EE

News

u rc h

CH UR CH STR EET

Post

Office

OT H

ective it Det ers n u d ho art The W y Headqu c n e Ag

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Pleasant Valley SCHOOL

HARBO R Pleasant Valley Gazette

sant Plea ey Vall ry Libra

MA RK ET SQ UA RE

CafĂŠ

Map of

Rio Cinema

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Thepeople: people: The

Jerry

Maya

Mohammed Carat

Vivian Leander

Danny Braveheart

Luke Smith

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CHAPTER 1

The Detectivesâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; Office

he streets were empty in the little town of Pleasant Valley. At three thirty on a chilly February afternoon it was already growing dark. A late winter storm had left the town slick with freezing rain. There was a light shining through the basement window of a small house just east of town. Inside, two children enjoyed the cozy warmth of the basement. Their names were Jerry and Maya, classmates and good friends from school. They were off from school for winter break. Most of their friends were charging down the sledding hill, but neither Jerry nor Maya felt like joining them. They had something else on their minds. 1

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“I have a feeling that something exciting is going to happen soon,” said Jerry hopefully. “Mmm-hmm,” mumbled Maya. She had her nose in a book as usual. The two classmates had set up a small office in Maya’s basement, and they sat in two old armchairs that stood next to a table piled high with books. More volumes of thick books—Maya’s dad’s detective stories—lined the walls. Maya and Jerry liked to sit in this room and read. During winter break they wanted to learn everything about how thieves and police officers worked. You see, Maya and Jerry were not just

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friends: They were partners as well. Together, they ran a detective agency: the Whodunit Detective Agency. A detective, of course, is a type of police officer who wears regular clothes instead of an official uniform. A detective carries out investigations and spies on suspects, takes photographs and looks through binoculars. In the end, a good detective solves the case and catches the criminal.

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THE WHO DUN IT DETE CTIV E AGE NCY

EQU IPM ENT

1 CAMERA WITH A

2 BINOCULARS

FLASH

3 MAGNIFYING GLASS

4 MIRROR

5 FALSE NOSES AND WIGS

6 FLASHLIGHT

7 SAFE

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“I wish we had a really exciting case,” said Maya with a sigh. “Maybe all of the thieves are on winter break, too,” said Jerry. Maya opened a tidy cabinet to make sure everything inside was well organized. It held everything they needed for their detective work: A camera with a flash—to take photos in the dark. A pair of binoculars—to spy on things from far away. A magnifying glass—to check for fingerprints. A mirror—to peer around corners. Several false noses and wigs—to disguise themselves. A few flashlights—to use when it was dark. A safe—to protect the money they’d earned. 5

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and Now accepting exciting ents. dangerous assignm Lost wallets and runaway cats recovered.

Low prices, tax included.

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But their safe was empty, because nothing exciting had happened for a long time. But once it did, Jerry and Maya were ready: They had put up signs all around Pleasant Valley. On nearly every streetlight and door they had hung posters that said: The Whodunit Detective Agency Now accepting exciting and dangerous assignments. Lost wallets and runaway cats recovered. Low prices, tax included.

1/28/14 2:22 PM

So, while Jerry and Maya waited for an exciting case, they researched detective stories. Maya was just about to fill Jerry in on the book she was reading: It was a story about a dognapper who stole dogs tied up outside stores and then called the dogsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; owners to demand ransoms for the poor pooches. Maya was upset just thinking about it. That was one criminal she would really like to catch! But before she had a chance to describe the case to Jerry, there was a knock on the door. Jerry and Maya looked at each other in surprise. Who could it be?

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The

Life TY of

PENGUIN PROBLEMS

New York Times Bestselling Author

L AUREN MYRACLE Ty_cover_final0921.indd 1

10/1/12 5:11 PM

CHAPTER ONE

oday, my big sister Sandra is taking me to school. She pulls into the drop-off lane and

tells me to walk in by myself. She says, “Ty, you’re seven years old. You can do this.” “I know,” I say, because of course I can. I can do tons of things. When a spider needs rescuing in our house, I’m the one who does it. At school, on the playground, I’m famous for jumping from one wobbly mushroom thing to the next without falling. Also, I’m excellent at growing head-hair, which is good because it means I’m not bald. I’m just not ready to go in this very second. It’s

more fun to sit in the car and watch for a while. Linnea’s mom follows Linnea with a bakery box, which means it’s probably Linnea’s birthday

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THE LIFE OF TY

and she’s going to give out cupcakes. My book partner, Price, runs ahead of his mom and tugs on the heavy glass door. Only he’s a preschooler, so his mom has to sneakily reach up high and help him. My other sister, Winnie, twists around in the front seat. She’s younger than Sandra, but older than me. “You like school,” she reminds me. “You’ll get to see Lexie. You’ll get to be Bad Scary Dry Cleaners together.”

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PE NG UIN PROBLE MS

“No, because Bad Scary Dry Cleaners ended a long time ago,” I say. Now Lexie and I are Boingees, which means we put our arms in our shirts and squat and hop all over the playground—boingee boingee boingee! Lexie’s friend Breezie is sometimes a Boingee, only hardly ever. Breezie doesn’t like me. Winnie says Breezie wants Lexie all to herself. Sandra honks. I jump. “Ty. Out,” she says. “Now.” She reaches back and opens my door. She shoves it so it swings open wider. Next, she shoves me. ON MY BOTTOM. “Sandra!” I cry. I scurry out, but stick my head back in to say, “Sandra, you are so mean!” “Bye,” she says, pulling away from the curb. My heart races. She’s not supposed to pull away, zoom, without any warning. “Fine! Bye!” I say. “And you’re not mean. Not all the time. And, Winnie?” I blow a sneaky kiss, which boys are allowed to do.

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THE LIFE OF TY

“Catch it!” I call. “Did you catch it?” Winnie leans out her window and grabs it out of the air. She pops it into her mouth. “Mmm, butterscotch.” She kisses her fingers and blows her kiss to me. I catch, swallow, and say, “Ew! Dried mouse droppings!” Winnie laughs. Her hair whips into her face as Sandra pulls away, and then . . . they’re gone. Now I have to go inside. My stomach tightens. Not because I’m nervous, because being nervous is babyish. Being nervous is for first graders or kindergartners. But it used to be that Mom took me to school. She walked me all the way to my classroom, and we did our good-byes there. Then Teensy Baby Maggie came along. Then Sandra started driving me to school. For three whole weeks, she’s driven me to school instead of Mom. At first, she did walk me in. Either she would or Winnie would.

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PE NG UIN PROBLE MS

Then today came along, and bam. Instead of walking me in, Sandra shoved me on my bottom, and Winnie let her. Price’s mother comes out of the building, this time without Price. I don’t think she knows I’m Price’s book partner, but she smiles at me anyway. I give her a small smile back. She heads to her car, and I bet she’s thinking, Why is that boy just standing there? Probably lots of people are thinking that. All the kids going in, all the parents coming out. I could stand here forever, but I’d get all wrinkly, and everyone would say, “Who’s that old creepy dude who’s always standing there?” I start toward the door. Then I stop, because I hear a noise coming from the playground. A kid noise. Only kids aren’t supposed to be on the playground yet. I go to check it out. It's Price. He’s saying “Help!” in a squinchy voice, and the reason why is because his head is stuck between two metal bars.

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THE LIFE OF TY

I sigh. Preschoolers. I go through the gate outside the playground, and it clangs when I pull it shut. Price tries to look over, but he can’t, really. “Hold on, Price!” I call. “I’m coming!” “My head got stuck!” he cries. “I know!” There are steps leading from the slides to the monkey bars, and by the stairs, there are rails that have metal bars. That’s where Price is stuck. It’s not the first time. I walk over, bend at the waist, and put my upsidedown face where he can see me. “Ty!” he says happily. He tries to stand, but it doesn’t work. “Ouch.”

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2/7/13 11:10 AM

PE NG UIN PROBLE MS

Boy, I’m glad I’m not a preschooler anymore. “Have you drawn any more pictures of Cyber Grape?” Price asks. Cyber Grape is like Plankton from SpongeBob, only bigger and purple, and I invented him. I drew a picture of him for Price, and now Price wants more and more. I also invented Robo-Thing, who is Cyber Grape’s best friend, but without as many superpowers. Price doesn’t know about Robo-Thing. “I haven’t drawn any Cyber Grape pictures this morning, because this morning I’m rescuing you,” I say. “Will you draw some more soon?” “Maybe. Now, stay.” I tromp up the stairs. I tromp to the railing and kneel beside him. I reach through the bars, grab his head, and twist twist twist, until pop! He topples backward and lands on the seat

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THE LIFE OF TY

of his jeans, which are the kind with elastic. He presses on his skull like he’s pushing his brain into place. He looks at me with admiration. Like how Robo-Thing looks at Cyber Grape, probably. Huh. I haven’t drawn that picture yet, but I should. “Don’t stick your head in there again,” I tell Price. “And even so, you’re not supposed to be out here. You’re supposed to be inside.” I hold out my hand. His hand is sweaty, but I pull him up anyway. “C’mon. I’ll walk you to your class.”

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learns that her hamster has something Humphrey has never seen before—a hamster car! Humphrey wants one, too, but school is not usually the place for toys. Then his teacher talks about bringing in something special for a project. Is Humphrey getting a really wheely surprise? With adorable illustrations and an easy reading level, Humphrey’s Tiny Tales are just right for emergent readers.

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A Wheely Great Weekend

It was Friday afternoon in Room 26 of Longfellow School. I was spinning on my hamster wheel, trying to stay calm. Fridays are always exciting for me. 1

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Every Friday afternoon, I get to go home for the weekend with a different classmate. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s the BEST-BEST-BEST part of my job as classroom pet. Of course, Mrs. Brisbane knew whose turn it was to bring me home. She plans my visits with the parents. But sometimes she forgets to tell me. Who would it be this week? 2

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Would it be Lower-Your-VoiceA.J., whose whole family likes to talk loudly? Or would I go to Speak-UpSayeh’s house, where everyone speaks quietly? “Mrs. Brisbane, who is taking Humphrey home?” Heidi Hopper asked. “Raise-Your-Hand-Heidi,” Mrs. Brisbane told her. Heidi forgets to raise her hand a lot. Mandy Payne said, “I am!” She forgot to raise her hand, too! 3

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Then Mandy said, “That clock must be stuck. It’s taking forever to get to the end of the day.” Don’t-Complain-Mandy Payne used to complain about a lot of things. Ever since she got her own

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hamster,

named

Winky,

she

doesn’t complain as much. “I can’t wait!” I shouted. My

friends

giggled,

even

though all they heard me say was “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK!” Just

then,

the

clock

hand

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moved and the bell rang. The end of the day had finally come! My friend Og the frog splashed loudly in his tank. He’s a classroom pet, too. He doesn’t go home with students on the weekend because he doesn’t have to eat every day, like I do. “I’ll tell you all about my weekend at Mandy’s when I get back,” I squeaked. “BOING-BOING-BOING!” he replied, hopping up and down. He

makes

funny

sound

because he’s a funny frog. 6

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Soon Mandy’s mom arrived to pick us up. “Humphwee!”

tiny

voice

shouted. It was Mandy’s little brother. “Hi, Bwian,” I squeaked back. His name is “Brian,” but he calls himself “Bwian.” Mandy’s two younger sisters, Pammy and Tammy, rushed up to my cage. The girls are twins, but they don’t look anything alike. “I’m going to take care of you, Humphrey,” Pammy said. 7

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“No, I’m going to take care of you, Humphrey,” Tammy said. “You’re both wrong,” Mandy said. “I’m going to take care of Humphrey, because he’s my classroom pet.”

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New York Times Best-Sel

Henry Winkler & Lilning Authors Oliv er

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“Hank Zipzer! Please stop talking!” Ms. Flowers said to me. “Good citizens don’t talk when the teacher is talking.” “But I didn’t say anything, Ms. Flowers.” “Hank, I saw your lips moving with my own two eyes.” “But no sound came out, Ms. Flowers. So, technically, I wasn’t talking.” “Then what exactly were you doing?”

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“I was sending a signal.” The other kids in the class laughed, which made me feel great. I wasn’t trying to be funny. But it’s always nice to get a laugh. My grandfather Papa Pete always says laughter is good, but not as good as a pickle. We’re both big pickle fans. “And to whom was this so-called signal being sent?” Ms. Flowers asked. “To me!” Frankie Townsend called out. Frankie and I have been best friends since we were babies. We have a whole system of signals.

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“We can talk without saying a word,” I told Ms. Flowers. “Oh, really?” she said. “That’s very unusual.” “There was this one time in the Museum of Natural History,” Frankie went on. “It was amazing. Hank and I both decided to roar right in the T. rex’s face—at the very same moment.” “It was awesome,” I added. “Until the guard told us there was no roaring allowed in the museum.” I laughed, and everyone joined in. Ms. Flowers chuckled, too. She’s really nice about laughing. Everyone at PS 87

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wants her for second grade because she’s in a good mood almost all the time. She even gave me a

nice try

when I only

got two out of ten right on my spelling test last week. “Well, Hank, since you’re so expert at roaring and signaling,” she said to me, “you’re going to love our next class project.” “I can hardly wait to hear what it is. I’m sitting on the edge of my seat.” “I can hardly wait for you to fall off!” Nick McKelty shouted from the desk behind me. Nick McKelty, better known as Nick the Tick, never has a nice word to say about anyone.

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But he gets away with it because he’s about twelve feet tall—in every direction. “That’s enough, Nick,” Ms. Flowers snapped, putting her hands on her hips. But McKelty didn’t seem to care that she was angry. He just went back to what he always does— rolling spitballs to launch at the little kids during recess. “Next week is Children’s Reading Week,” Ms. Flowers went on. “We will be celebrating by

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putting on a play. I wrote it myself. It’s called A Night at the Library.” Katie Sperling put up her hand and waved it around. “Can I be the star?” she asked. “My daddy always tells me I am one, anyway.” “Everyone will have a part,” Ms. Flowers said. “Even me?” Luke Whitman asked, with his finger up his nose. “Yes, even you, Luke.” I wondered if there was a part in the play for a champion nose-picker.

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Luke Whitman would get that for sure! “I think we all know who’s going to be the star!” McKelty shouted out. “The one with the most talent. And that would be me.” Then, for no reason at all, he stood up and bowed, and let out one of his snorty laughs. No one else joined in. “I’m now going to pass out the script,” Ms. Flowers said, motioning for McKelty to sit down. “Read the play over the weekend and decide on which part you’d like.” I felt worried. Really worried. Regular second-grade reading is

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hard for me. Reading a whole script would be nearly impossible. Frankie saw my face and sent me our “don’t worry” signal. I relaxed right away, because I knew he would help me. Frankie is an excellent reader. Over winter break, he read a two-hundred-page book that didn’t even have pictures. “We will hold auditions on Monday,” Ms. Flowers told us. “That’s when you can each try out for the part you want.” Even though I knew Frankie would help me, I was starting to get very nervous. “You’ll have to study your lines and be very prepared,”

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Ms. Flowers continued. “Does anyone have any questions?” As usual, I had many questions. Also as usual, I was too embarrassed to ask them. So I did what I usually did— I made a list in my head.

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8/14

FUNNY Y L L U F T H G I R FU TURES A E R C F O S E R U ADVENT . . . E V A R G E H T D FROM B E Y O N Joe was just an ordinary boy− until he made a wish on a spooky Egyptian amulet. Now he’s the Protector of UNDEAD PETS . . . and there’s a ravenous rodent on the rampage! Dumpling the hamster got sucked up a vacuum cleaner. Can Joe help him sort out his unfinished business, so he can finally bite the dust? for more UNDEAD Look our favorit e st PETS at y ore !

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Joe spotted the battered old jeep as soon as he turned in to his street that Saturday afternoon. Splattered with mud, its paint was peeling, its license plate was hanging off, and its roof rack groaned with trunks and boxes. Joe grinned; it could only belong to one person— Uncle Charlie! A wave of excitement swept over him, and he ran the rest of the way home. “Joe? Is that you?” Mom called as he slammed the front door. “We’ve got a visitor.” Joe raced into the living room, not

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bothering to take off his sneakers, which were still muddy from playing in the park. And there was Uncle Charlie, lounging on the sofa sipping a cup of extra-strong black coffee. “Joe!” he said, beaming. “How are you, buddy?” He stood up and gave Joe a bear hug. “You’ve grown! You’re nearly as tall as me!”

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That wasn’t strictly true—Uncle Charlie still towered over Joe. As always, Joe’s great-uncle was wearing an old khaki safari suit and had his gray hair slicked back, and even though he was pretty ancient (if you counted wrinkles the same way as tree rings, he’d be about the same age as a great oak!), his eyes sparkled with energy. “Uncle Charlie’s just back from Egypt,” said Mom. “Look what he brought me!” She held up a beautifully carved wooden camel. “Cool,” said Joe. Joe thought his uncle Charlie was amazing. He was an archeologist and spent most of his time abroad, digging up old relics. Usually they wouldn’t hear anything from Uncle Charlie for months, then suddenly he’d turn up on their doorstep with tales of lost cities and secret temples and treasure . . . “So, what was Egypt like?” asked Joe. “Hot! Very hot! And fascinating, too!”

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Uncle Charlie replied. “We found a lost pyramid buried underground. Imagine that, Joe—a three-thousand-year-old tomb containing lavishly decorated sarcophagi, golden statues, a chariot as big as a bus . . .” “Mummies?” Uncle Charlie grinned. “Of course!” “Wow!” Joe loved hearing about Uncle Charlie’s adventures. He was already drifting off into a daydream about the secret pyramid and the treasures hidden within, when Uncle Charlie nudged him playfully, bringing him back to the real world with a bump.

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“Now, I want to hear all about you, Joe. What’s been happening? Have you gotten that dog yet?” Joe’s mom grimaced. “Don’t mention the D word. That’s all I hear from morning to night!” “Every kid should have a dog.” Uncle Charlie winked at Joe. “Exactly!” said Joe. “That’s what I keep saying!” Mom frowned. “But I only have to hear the word pet and I start sneezing!” As if to prove the point, she wrinkled her nose, blinked twice, and then gave a loud ACHOOO! Joe scuffed the carpet with his foot. It didn’t matter how desperate he was for a dog; with Mom’s allergies, he had no chance. “Cheer up, Joe!” said Uncle Charlie. “Go and look in my bag. I’ve got something for you.” Joe brightened. Uncle Charlie always brought back the most amazing gifts. Once, he’d given Joe a tiger’s tooth that he’d had to

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dig out of his own thigh. Then there was the super-spooky glass eye that had belonged to a long-dead pirate—it sat on top of Joe’s dresser, eyeballing anyone who dared enter his room. “Look for the old cigar box—it’s in there.” Joe rummaged around inside Uncle Charlie’s battered old leather satchel and found a few notebooks, a pair of socks, and quite a lot of sand . . . Then he spotted the cigar box. He flipped open the lid and peered inside. “Wow, it’s, um . . . great,” said Joe. He lifted a shiny black stone out of the cigar box and peered at it closely. It was roughly cut in the shape of an animal. “What is it?”

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“It’s an amulet, Joe. A real amulet! Ancient Egyptians used to carry them for good luck.” Joe held the amulet. It fit snugly in the palm of his hand and it felt warm and heavy. He stroked it with his thumb. The more he looked at it, the more he liked it. He especially liked the shape. “Does it have a dog’s head?” he asked. Mom rolled her eyes and laughed. Uncle Charlie smiled. “Not a dog—a jackal! It represents Anubis, the Egyptian god of the dead.” “Cool!” breathed Joe. He couldn’t wait to show it to his best friend, Matt. Just then, Mom peered out of the livingroom window. “Aha! Looks like the rest of the clan are back from the store. I’ll make another pot of coffee.” As she bustled off with the coffee cups, Uncle Charlie leaned closer. “That amulet has been around a long time, Joe,” he said quietly, “and it’s very special. It’ll grant you a wish.”

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A wish? Joe looked up in disbelief. He could spot a prank a mile off! “It’s true. Trust me. But only one, so careful what you wish for, because it will come true.” At that moment, the living-room door flew open, and Joe’s brother and sister thundered into the room. “Uncle Charlie!” cried Toby. “Have you brought me a dinosaur bone?” Uncle Charlie laughed. “Not this time, Toby. But when I find one, you’ll be the first to hear about it.” Joe slipped the amulet into his pocket. There was no way he was going to ask Uncle Charlie any more about it with Toby and Sarah around.

Hours later, after a noisy dinner and some amazing stories about Egypt, Uncle Charlie announced it was time he was going.

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“Where are you off to this time?” Joe asked, though he knew his great-uncle wouldn’t say—he never did. “That would be telling!” Uncle Charlie said with a wink. “But I’m sure I’ll have some new stories the next time I see you . . .” He hugged them all good-bye, picked up his satchel, and stepped out into the inky night. Joe followed him to the end of the driveway.

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Uncle Charlie took a deep breath. “Smell that air, Joe. There’s magic and mischief about. I can feel it.” Joe grinned. “Uncle Charlie—aren’t you going to tell me more about the amulet?” Uncle Charlie stepped closer and whispered to Joe, “Just remember what I said—be careful what you wish for!” Then with one last wink, he climbed into the jeep. The family waited on the doorstep for a few moments, waving as the jeep thundered off down the street, then went inside. “Right!” said Mom. “Time for bed, everyone. You’ve already stayed up late because of Uncle Charlie’s visit.” Joe went upstairs, feeling blue. Now that Uncle Charlie had gone, everything would just go back to normal. If only I had a dog, he thought, collapsing on his bed. Then home wouldn’t feel so dull after Uncle Charlie’s visits.

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But this time everything was not the same as it always was—he had the amulet! He took it out of his pocket and looked at it closely. Was it his imagination, or was it shinier than before . . . and warmer, too? What if it really was a wishing stone? Then he sighed. Yeah, just like the Easter Bunny is real. He was ten years old, not five! But then again, what did he have to lose? Joe grinned. He knew exactly what he wanted to wish for. “I wish I had a pet,” he said softly. And then, louder, “I WISH I HAD A PET!” Nothing happened. Feeling a bit silly, Joe tossed the amulet onto his bedside table and went to brush his teeth. A few minutes later he climbed into bed, flicked off his light, and closed his eyes, still thinking about dogs—big, furry, stick-chasing ones . . . And that’s when he heard it: a tiny scritchyscratchy sort of a sound, coming from under his bed.

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Joe lay stock-still, listening. There it was again. Scritch. Scratch. Scuttle . . . What could it be? Mice? Rats? But then he heard a different noise, more like crunching. Joe grabbed his flashlight (which he kept under his pillow, just as Uncle Charlie recommended). He leaned down and shone the light under the bed. He gasped. It wasn’t a mouse, or a rat, or a spider. It was . . .

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BY EDGAR AWARD WINNER DORI

HILLESTAD BUTLER

Y G L OS S A R L T S O Y GH expand

When ghosts make themselves larger

glow What ghosts do so humans can see them

haunt Where ghosts live

pass through When ghosts travel through walls, doors, and other solid objects

shrink When ghosts make themselves smaller

skizzy When ghosts feel sick to their stomachs

solids What ghosts call humans, animals, and objects they canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t see through

spew What comes out when ghosts throw up

swim When ghosts move freely through the air

wail What ghosts do so humans can hear them

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chapter 1

LOST IN THE OUTSIDE

az floated nervously back and forth in front of the dusty classroom wall. His whole family was watching him. Mom. Pops. Little John. Even Cosmo, the family dog. They were all watching . . . waiting . . . and wondering: Would he do it this time? Kaz swam back away from the wall. “I don’t want to,” he said in a small voice. Everyone groaned. “Come on, son,” said Pops. “There’s 5

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nothing to be afraid of. All you have to do is take a deep breath and slide on through. Like this.” Pops stuck his foot through the wall first. Then his whole leg . . . his arm . . . and finally the rest of his body. Poof! Pops was gone. “Woof! Woof!” barked Cosmo. The dog’s tail swished from side to side as he dashed through the wall after Pops. “Passing through is easy, Kaz,” Little John said. “Watch!” Kaz watched his little brother turn cartwheels through the wall. Little John was only six. He had already mastered most of the basic ghost skills. He could glow, wail, shrink, expand, and pass through walls. Kaz was nine. He could shrink and he could expand. But he couldn’t glow, he 6

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couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t wail, and he didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t like to pass through walls. He had tried it once. It made him feel skizzy. Cosmo poked his head back through the wall. He barked twice at Kaz, then disappeared again.

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“I think Cosmo is saying, ‘Follow me, Kaz. Follow me!’” Mom said in a pretend doggy voice. Kaz moaned. Mom reached for Kaz’s hand and led him toward the wall. “Let’s try it together.” A solid mouse skittered into a hole in the floorboard. A solid spider danced across her web in front of the window. “Here we go,” Mom said. “One . . . two . . . three!” She passed through the wall. Kaz yanked his hand out of Mom’s grasp. He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t! Instead, he swam over to the door, sucked his body in, and shrunk down, down, down . . . until he was no larger than that old book in the corner and no thicker than one of the pages inside. 8

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Then he dived down and slid under the door. Blowing dust mites out of his way, he swam along the hallway and into the next classroom, where his family waited. Little John groaned as Kaz expanded to his normal size and shape. Mom and Pops shook their heads sadly.

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“You’ll never survive in the Outside if you don’t learn your basic ghost skills,” warned Pops. “We worry about you, Kaz,” Mom said, putting her arm around him. “There are solids in the Outside. You need ghost skills to protect yourself from solids.” There was also WIND in the Outside. Wind that could pick up a ghost and blow him away forever. “I’m never going to leave this old schoolhouse,” Kaz told his family. “And the solids hardly ever come in here, so I don’t really need ghost skills.” Kaz had never been outside his haunt before, but he was way more afraid of wind than he was of solids. “Sometimes things happen that we don’t expect,” Mom said. “Don’t you 10

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remember what happened to Finn?” Finn was Kaz’s big brother. “And your grandparents?” Pops added. How could Kaz forget? Finn, Kaz, and Little John had been playing Keep Away one day last spring. Finn often pushed his arm or leg through the wall to the Outside because he liked to hear Kaz and Little John squeal. But that day he stuck his head a little too far through the wall . . . and the wind pulled him all the way into the Outside. Kaz and Little John had heard Finn screaming for help, but all they could do was yell for their parents and grandparents. Grandmom and Grandpop charged through the Outside wall and tried to rescue Finn, but the wind was too strong. Finn, Grandmom, and Grandpop were all 11

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lost in the Outside. Nobody knew what had become of them. “That won’t happen to me,” Kaz said now. How could it? He never went near the Outside walls. All of a sudden, there was a loud CRASH! above them. The whole building shook, and bits of ceiling rained down around Kaz. The ghosts looked up. “What was that?” asked Little John. “You kids stay here,” Pops ordered. He and Mom swam to the ceiling and passed through to the upstairs. Little John never liked to be left out of anything, so Kaz wasn’t surprised when his brother followed Pops and Mom through the ceiling. And Cosmo followed Little John. Kaz swam to the dirty window and 12

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peered outside. He saw several big, yellow trucks parked in front of their haunt. One of them had a tall arm on the back. Kaz watched the arm raise a large, heavy ball into the air. CRASH! The ball banged against the top of their haunt, and the whole building shook again. Kaz heard Mom moan. He heard Pops groan. “Mom? Pops?” called Kaz. “What’s happening?” When they didn’t answer, he swam along the rickety staircase to the second floor. “No, Kaz!” Pops yelled back. “Don’t come up here!” Too late: Kaz was already at the top of the stairs. He could hardly believe his eyes. Part of the ceiling had caved in. A huge 13

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chunk of the side wall was gone. And Mom, Pops, Little John, and Cosmo were all floating in the Outside.

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