Tally Tuttle Turns into a Turtle
Page 1
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Holmes, Kathryn, 1982- author. | Landy, Ariel, illustrator.
Title: Tally Tuttle turns into a turtle / Kathryn Holmes ; [illustrations by Ariel Landy].
Description: New York : Amulet Books, 2021. | Series: Class critters ; book 1 | Audience: Ages 6 to 9. | Summary: Tally Tuttle, a shy, new-in-town second-grader, magically transforms into a turtle on the first day of school, and in order to transform back to herself she must learn how to come out of her shell both literally and figuratively. Includes ten fun facts about painted turtles.
Identifiers: LCCN 2020051896 | ISBN 9781419755675 (hardcover)
Subjects: CYAC: Bashfulness—Fiction. | Turtles—Fiction. | First day of school—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.H7358 Tal 2021 | DDC [Fic]—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020051896
eISBN 978-1-64700-426-2
Text copyright © 2021 Kathryn Holmes
Illustrations copyright © 2021 Ariel Landy
Book design by Marcie Lawrence
Published in 2021 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
Amulet Books are available at special discounts when purchased in quantity for premiums and promotions as well as fundraising or educational use. Special editions can also be created to specification. For details, contact specialsales@abramsbooks.com or the address below.
Amulet Books® is a registered trademark of Harry N. Abrams, Inc.
ABRAMS The Art of Books
195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007
abramsbooks.com
For Evie
1
Butterflies for Breakfast
It was the first day of school, and Tally Tuttle’s stomach hurt.
She sank into the soft leather of the back seat as her big sister, Scarlett, jumped out of the car, shouting, “Bye, Mom! Come on, Tally!”
Scarlett didn’t seem nervous at all. Maybe Tally was nervous enough for both of them. She felt like she’d eaten two helpings of butterflies for breakfast. They were tickling her insides with their fluttering wings.
Tally stared at the entrance to the school. The building was taller than her old elementary school—three stories instead of only one. It cast a long shadow across the drop-off area. But the size of the building wasn’t the scariest part. The scariest part was not recognizing a single face in the crowd, other than her sister’s.
Maybe Tally could imagine her way out of being scared. That was her dad’s suggestion. Whenever she felt wobbly or overwhelmed, he told her to try imagining something that would make her smile.
She imagined letting all of the butterflies inside her fly free. She imagined them flocking around the kids and grown-ups outside the school. She imagined everyone’s mouths falling open as the colorful creatures landed on their heads and shoulders and in the palms of their hands.
She felt a giggle bubble up, delicate as a butterfly’s wings.
Her mom was watching her from the driver’s seat. “Ready to go, pumpkin?”
Tally nodded, but she still didn’t move.
“I know you’re anxious about not knowing anyone,” her mom said gently, “but I also know you’re going to make new friends so quickly. A few of my new coworkers have kids in your grade.”
Tally’s family had moved here one week ago. Tally hadn’t finished unpacking. She hadn’t found her lucky disco ball keychain or her favorite green nail polish. She was entering second grade with her house key on a plain metal ring, clear sparkle polish on her fingernails . . . and no friends.
The butterflies whooshed back in.
Tally studied her sneakers. They were new, but the same brand and style she’d worn last year. Scarlett had used the move as an excuse to try a whole new look. She was launching into fifth grade in skinny jeans and hot pink, sequined high-tops—a fancy brand that, thanks to their mom’s new job, they could finally afford. Tally was wearing new jean shorts and a new green T-shirt, but that was how she’d always dressed. Her straight brown hair was in a ponytail, like always. Her brown eyes were framed by round glasses, like always.
What if Scarlett had the right idea? Should Tally have reinvented herself, too?
What would her new classmates be like? Would she fit in?
What if she didn’t?
What if this new place turned out to be perfect for everyone in her family . . . except her?
“Come here.” Her mom leaned between the front seats and stretched out her arms. Tally fell into the embrace. Her mom was a fantastic hugger. “I’ve heard through the grapevine that your teacher this year is amazing,” her mom said. “Mrs. Norrell’s classroom is supposed to be a really magical place.”
That got Tally’s attention. “Magical how?”
Her mom’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t you want to get in there and find out?”
“I guess so.”
“Do your best, pumpkin. I’m proud of you no matter what.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Tally got out of the car and walked to the entrance, where Scarlett was waiting for her. From the curb, their mom honked the horn three times. That was something their dad had come up with, when he and their mom were dating. “Honk honk honk” before driving away meant “I love you.”
“Honk, honk, honk!” Tally and Scarlett called back together.
Then Scarlett turned toward the door. “Okay, let’s go!”
Tally made herself imagine the silly things that could be waiting for her on the other side of that door. Maybe this school would have murals made of jelly beans decorating the walls. Or maybe her teacher would be an ostrich wearing a tutu.
That one worked. Grinning, Tally followed her sister inside.
2
Anything but Ordinary
Tally’s mom had said Mrs. Norrell’s class was supposed to be a magical place, but nothing in here looked particularly magical. The room had desks, chairs, a bulletin board, and posters. There was a guinea pig in a cage by the windows, which was cool, but Tally had had class pets before. In kindergarten, they’d had a fish named Lloyd. In first grade, it was a gerbil named Arabella.
Maybe elementary schools were pretty much the same everywhere.
But what if there was more to Mrs. Norrell’s room than met the eye? Tally imagined the chalkboard swinging away from the wall to reveal a secret passageway. She imagined the hands on the wall clock spinning in reverse, transporting them all back in time. She imagined that the guinea pig was actually a fairy in disguise—
“Take a seat, please, everyone!” Mrs. Norrell called out, making Tally jump.
There was an empty desk with Tally’s name on it in the last row. To Tally’s left was a Black boy whose desk label read “Nate.” The white girl on Tally’s right had already peeled off her nametag, but her gold necklace read “Victoria” in swirly letters.
Nate peeked at Tally over the top of his thick book. “You’re new.” Tally nodded, and Nate said, “Okay.” Then he went back to reading, and Tally’s hopes for a conversation—or even her first new friend—fizzled out like a firework that never made it off the ground.
Tally turned to her other side. Victoria was complaining about something to the girl in front
of her, her voice an angry hiss. When she caught Tally looking at her, she snapped, “What do you want, new kid?”
“Nothing,” Tally said, facing straight ahead with flaming cheeks. “Sorry.”
“Welcome to second grade. I’m so glad you’re all in my class,” Mrs. Norrell said from the front of the room. Tally puffed out a relieved breath. At least someone was happy to see her. “This is going to be an incredible year,” her teacher continued. “I can feel it.” She rustled some papers on her desk. “I’ll start by taking roll. Aaron Ackerman?”
“Here.”
“Becca Barrett?”
“Here.”
Tally tried to pay close attention, but it didn’t take long for the names to start blurring together. Plus, from her seat in the last row, she couldn’t see her classmates’ faces. She had a great view of the backs of everyone’s heads. The tan, brown-haired boy goofing off in the second row was . . . Gavin? The Asian girl wearing the pineapple-print sundress was . . . Lydia? And the Black girl with the cool braids, next to maybe-Lydia, was . . . Madison?
It felt like a test Tally was destined to fail.
She was concentrating so hard that she missed her own name.
“Tallulah Tuttle? Tallulah, are you with us?”
A wave of giggles swept through the room.
“Here!” Tally squeaked. “Sorry!”
“Tallulah?” someone said.
Tally flinched. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her full name. It was that “Tallulah” was anything but ordinary. For today, at least, ordinary was what Tally wanted to be. “I go by Tally,” she whispered . . . but it was too late.
“Ta-loooo-lah!” a boy squawked.
“Ta-loooo-lah!” another boy hooted back.
Within seconds, shouts of “Ta-loooo-lah! Ta-loooo-lah!” danced through the air. Kids were laughing and staring. Mrs. Norrell was darting around the room, looking for the culprits.
Tally sank down in her chair. This was what she had been afraid of. Her mom had told her she’d make new friends quickly.
Her mom had been wrong.
3
Imagining Happier Things
“Ta-loooo-lah! Ta-loooo-lah! Ta-loooo-lah!”
“Enough!” With three loud claps, Mrs. Norrell called the class to order. She frowned at her students. “We do not make fun of our classmates’ names—or anything about our classmates, for that matter.” Her eyes found Tally’s and softened a little. “Tallulah, I apologize. Everyone, say you’re sorry to Tallulah.”
Tally wished Mrs. Norrell would stop saying her name. The sing-song apology that followed—We’re sorry, Tallulah—didn’t help.
Mrs. Norrell continued taking roll, and then began talking about everything they’d be doing in the second grade. The whole time, Tally felt like her classmates were sneaking glances at her. She thought she could still hear muffled laughter.
She was never going to make new friends now.
Tally felt a rush of missing. She missed her old school. She missed the friends she’d had for years—the people who knew that she preferred to be called Tally, and that she only wanted strawberry jam (never, ever grape jelly) on her PB&Js, and that her favorite kind of green was the happy, minty shade of mint chocolate chip ice cream.
She didn’t want to figure out how to fit into a new place. She didn’t want to always be imagining happier things. She just wanted to feel happy.
Tally felt the prickle of oncoming tears. She squeezed her eyes closed. She couldn’t cry on the first day of school. She didn’t want to spend the entire year as Ta-loooo-lah Tuttle, Cry-Baby. She clenched her fists. She hunched her shoulders and tucked her chin into her neck. She tried her hardest to conjure up something magical and wonderful—something that would make her smile—but her mind had gone blank.
Desperate, she looked around the room for inspiration. Her eyes landed on the class pet. The sign on the cage said the guinea pig’s name was Bagel. All Bagel had to worry about was eating and sleeping and digging around in his bed of wood shavings. He looked content, like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.
Unless he actually was a fairy in disguise, like she’d imagined earlier.
Tally wished she could disguise herself as something else. But she knew that magic wasn’t real. She sighed.
A gust of wind blew that sigh right back into her face.
There was a popping sound, like the opening of a tightly screwed-on jar lid, followed by a tinkly noise, like someone was playing the two highest piano keys over and over and over.
The air suddenly smelled like citrus fruit and rotten eggs.
Tally blinked. In an instant, the world had changed around her. Her classroom was enormous. So was everyone in it.
No—her classroom hadn’t grown bigger. She’d gotten smaller. Much, much smaller. And she was lying on the floor.
Wait. She wasn’t lying down. She was standing, but on four legs instead of two. And those legs were short and scaly. And they ended in sharp claws. When Tally told her fingers to wiggle, the claws tapped against the floor.
She slowly, so slowly, craned her neck down until she could see her reflection in the shiny tile. It wasn’t a perfect mirror, but it was clear enough to show her the truth.
Tally Tuttle had turned into a turtle.
4
The Weight of Her Shell
At first, she was sure she’d imagined it. But when Tally shut her eyes, waited several seconds, and checked her reflection again, the same face stared back at her.
She had bulging black eyes. Her normally pale skin was striped in green, yellow, and brown. She could feel the weight of her shell on her back.
She was definitely a turtle, which meant . . . magic was real!
Tally did a happy wriggling dance. Then she twisted her long neck to look up, up, up at her classmates. The few faces she could see wore matching confused frowns. It was like a photographer had surprised the class by taking a flash photo before they could say “cheese,” and they were all still seeing spots.
The room was silent except for the wall clock’s tick-tock-ticking.
Then Victoria spoke. “Um.” She was looking at Tally’s empty chair, far above where turtle-Tally crouched in the shadow of her own mint-green backpack. “Why does it smell weird in here?”
“Where’s Tallulah?” Mrs. Norrell approached, her footsteps heavy and echoing on the tile floor. Every step shook Tally from her claws to her broad, flat beak. “Did anyone see Tallulah leave the room?”
“I’m down here!” Tally shouted. Her voice came out as a shrill turtle chirp. The high-pitched sound was so shocking that Tally instinctively tucked her head and legs into her shell.
Oh. Inside her shell, it was dark and warm. In here, she felt comfortable, cozy, and safe.
She listened with interest as her classmates debated what had happened to her. Thanks to the shell, their voices were muffled. It was like Tally was eavesdropping from deep within a pillow fort.
“I think she was upset,” one girl said.
That was true. Tally had been upset. She didn’t feel upset anymore.
“You all weren’t being very nice,” another girl said. “She’s new, and she can’t help that she has an unusual name. Mrs. Norrell, I told them to stop!”
Someone had stood up for Tally? She hadn’t heard that part.
“Maybe she felt sick,” a boy guessed.
Did having a belly full of frantic, fluttering butterflies count as feeling sick?
“Sick . . .” Mrs. Norrell said thoughtfully. “Hm. Perhaps . . . perhaps Tallulah went to the nurse. Yes. I believe I heard her ask to be excused.” She sounded relieved to have figured it out. “Tallulah went to see the nurse.”
Tally did another little dance inside her shell, celebrating her good luck. First, she’d been saved from humiliation. Then, her teacher had come up with the perfect excuse for her absence. Tally didn’t know how or why she’d become a turtle. She didn’t know why no one in her class seemed to have s
een it happen. She didn’t understand what was going on at all.
But magic was real.
And she wasn’t being laughed at anymore.
Those were both very good things.
5
A Strange New World
Tally poked her head out of her shell. Mrs. Norrell was standing beside Tally’s chair. The teacher’s legs were like the giant sequoia trees Tally’s family had seen when they visited California last year. Tally didn’t want to get accidentally stepped on, so she decided that her first task as a turtle was to seek cover.
She began to crawl. It was slow going. She wasn’t used to walking on all fours, and she had to figure out how to make her right and left sides work in opposition. She passed under Nate’s stretched-out legs. She crossed the two floor tiles that lay between Nate’s desk and the bookshelf by the wall. She ducked under the ledge of the shelf.
She discovered a strange new world.
Under the bookshelf, there were broken pencils that were longer than she was. Metal paperclips that had been bent into various shapes. Dust bunnies that tickled her nostrils and made her want to sneeze. Even a few treasures: a red Starburst, a glittery beaded bracelet, and a rubber ball that was bright blue with silver sparkles.
Tally used her nose to nudge the Starburst toward the front of the shelf, where she’d be able to find it later. Starbursts were her favorite candy of all time, and red was her favorite flavor. She wouldn’t usually eat candy off of the floor, but the Starburst was still tightly sealed in its wrapper. It couldn’t hurt to save it, just in case.
Next, she spent several minutes shimmying her body underneath the beaded bracelet until it perched atop her shell like a crown. If she was going to be a turtle, she thought she might as well be a fancy one.
Finally, she returned to the sparkly blue ball. She kicked it gently toward the wall, and it bounced back to her. She turned and aimed at a crumpled-up piece of notebook paper a few feet away. She started to kick, but then got a better idea. She pulled her head back into her shell, and then popped out, ramming the ball with her hard beak.