“You’re 110% cuckoo,” Rocky told Judy.
“Just call me the Sleeping Speller,” Judy said.
Judy predicted it would be hard to sit still until Mr. Todd passed back the spelling tests. She predicted right. She felt antsy as an anthill. Jumpy as a jumping bean.
At last, the time came.
“Good work. Keep it up,” Mr. Todd was saying as he walked around the room, passing back tests and handing out cookies. Heart-shaped cookies. With sprinkles! And he was humming. Mr. Todd never hummed! And he never brought heart-shaped cookies with sprinkles. Not even on Valentine’s Day, which it wasn’t.
It had to be a sign. A sign that she, the Sleeping Speller, had done superduper stupendous on her spelling test. That would definitely put Mr. Todd in a good mood.
In less than one minute, Class 3T would see that she, Madame M, had ESP. Extra-special Spelling Powers. Just like Jeane Dixon, Famous American Fortuneteller. And Sleeping Speller Man.
In less than one minute, Judy had her test back. And the only cookie left was a broken heart.
Dear Mr. President! Something was not right! Her paper did not have a Thomas Jefferson sticker. It did not even have a president. Or a sticker. It had a feather. A musty, dusty-looking, old-timey rubber-stamp feather. A quill pen. A quill pen meant Keep Trying. A quill pen meant You Have More Work to Do. A quill pen was as preposterous as a hippopotamus.
At the bottom of her test was a note from Mr. Todd. It said, “Tortilla has two l’s. Zigzag is one word.”
Judy didn’t see why tor-tee-yah had any l’s at all. And zig and zag sure seemed like two words to her. Who wrote the dictionary anyway? Mrs. Merriam and Mr. Webster were going to hear from her.
All eyes were on Judy. She turned fire-engine red. Hide-your-face-in-your-hands red. Big-fat-dictionary red.
The Sleeping Speller was a flop. The Sleeping Speller was a flubber-upper. The Sleeping Speller was a big fat phoney-baloney.
Maybe Jessica (Flunk) Finch got a musty, dusty quill pen, too! Judy knew it was a bad-mood thought. Judy knew she was supposed to keep her eyes on her own paper. But she couldn’t help herself. She turned around.
Jessica Finch beamed. Jessica Finch gleamed. Like the day she was crowned Queen Bee and got her picture in the paper. Jessica Finch sat up straight and proud as a president. She held up her paper for Judy to see.
“I knew it!” Jessica said. “I got a Thomas Jefferson tricorn hat!”
A tricorn hat did not mean flubber-upper. A tricorn hat did not mean Better luck next time. Keep trying. You need more practice! A tricorn hat meant Hats off to you!
“How did you know?” Judy asked. Judy was supposed to be the one predicting the future, not Jessica Finch.
“I used my brain,” said Jessica. “Some people studied.”
Judy was green with Jealous, Envy. And she did not need her mood ring to prove it.
The class buzzed. They turned on Judy like a pack of stinging bees.
“Hey, what happened to the Sleeping Speller?”
“The Sleeping Speller fell asleep!”
Judy Moody gave them all a Virginia creeper stare.
“Hold on, everybody,” said Mr. Todd-the-Hummer. “You know that in this class we keep our eyes on our own papers.”
“But Mr. Todd, Judy Moody said. She told us. She predicted she would get a 110% perfect paper. She predicted WRONG!”
“Nobody can really predict the future!” said Rocky. “Right, Mr. Todd?”
“Well, we all play a part in creating our own futures,” said Mr. Todd. “So, in the future, I hope you’ll concern yourselves with your own work, not the work of the person next to you.”
That got everybody quiet.
“Now. Let’s move on to . . . science. Take out your Weather Notebooks.”
Judy did not take out her Weather Notebook. She was comparing her paper to Jessica Finch’s.
“Judy,” said Mr. Todd, “I’m afraid you haven’t heard a word I’ve said. I’m going to have to ask you to go to Antarctica.”
Antarctica!
Antarctica was a desk in the back of the room with a map on top. A map with a lot of icebergs and a lot of penguins. And a sign that said CHILL OUT. The sign might as well have said IN BIG TROUBLE.
Judy looked at Mr. Todd. He did not look one bit like the Hummer, Mr. New Glasses, Mr. Crayon Tie, the teacher who brought heart-shaped cookies to class. He looked like Mr. Toad.
Judy hung her head and walked to the desk in the back of the room. Jessica Finch was Thomas Jefferson. And she, Judy Moody, was president of Antarctica.
Judy was mad enough to spit. How could Madame M ever predict the future if she could not even predict one lousy spelling test?
One thing she could predict was the weather. It was cold in Antarctica. Cold enough to freeze spit.
“Okay,” said Mr. Todd. “Time for the weather reports. Who wants to be our meteorologist for the day? Any predictions?”
Weather report from Antarctica: Cloudy with a chance of never getting a Thomas Jefferson sticker.
On the way back to her seat, Jessica Finch asked Judy, “How was Antarctica?”
“Long,” said Judy.
What did Jessica Finch care anyway? She probably knew how to spell Antarctica. Even without sleeping on the dictionary.
Judy grumped. Judy slumped. Judy Moody was down in the dumps. The dumpiest. She, Madame M for Mistake, could not predict the future — her own or anybody else’s. She could not even predict one hour from now. Not one minute. Not one second. The future was un-predictable.
That did it. Judy decided then and there she would give up predicting the future. Forever. She had the Moody blues, the Judy-Moodiest.
She dragged herself to the water fountain at afternoon recess.
“Hel-lo? Judy? What is wrong with you?” asked Jessica Finch.
“I’m a flop. A big fat fake. I can’t tell the future. Just call me Madame Phoney-Baloney.”
“Okay, Madame Phoney-Baloney!” said Jessica Finch. She laughed like a hyena. “If you say so. But I know something that tells the future. You can ask a question and it’s N-E-V-E-R wrong.”
Judy sprayed herself with water. How did Jessica Finch know so much about future-telling? “Really?”
“Really.”
“Never?”
“Never!” said Jessica. “I’ll bring it tomorrow. Think of something you want to ask. Something on your mind. Something that’s been bugging you — a V.I.Q.”
“V.I.Q.?”
“Very Important Question,” said Jessica.
Judy could hardly wait. She could hardly think about anything else. She could hardly sleep, even without the fat red dictionary under her pillow.
Judy thought and thought. She thought about something that had been on her mind. She thought about something that had been bugging her. She came up with a very important V.I.Q.
Judy got to school early Thursday morning. She rushed up to Jessica Finch. “Did you bring it? Did you?”
Jessica opened her pink plastic backpack and took out a bright yellow ball with a big smiley face on the outside. “Magic 8 Ball!” said Jessica.
“That’s not a Magic 8 Ball,” said Judy.
“Is too,” said Jessica. “I’ll show you.”
“Will I always be the best speller at Virginia Dare School?” Jessica asked the Magic 8 Ball. The answer appeared in the window on a little triangle floating in blue liquid.
You’re a winner.
“See? You try,” said Jessica.
Judy decided to ask a practice question first. “Will my mood ring ever turn purple?” Judy shook the ball.
You look marvelous.
“Try again,” said Jessica.
“Will my mood ring ever turn purple?”
Nice outfit.
“You’re not asking right,” said Jessica.
Judy shook the ball extra hard. “Will I be a doctor someday?”
Pure genius.
“Will I ever get a 110
% Thomas Jefferson sticker on my spelling test?
You’re 100% fun.
“Will Mom and Dad be mad about my spelling test?”
Your breath is so minty!
“These aren’t answers,” said Judy. “Why is it saying all goopy stuff?”
“It’s the Happy 8 Ball,” said Jessica. “It only gives you good answers.”
“No fair!” said Judy. “The Happy 8 Ball is a fake!”
“A good fake,” said Jessica.
“I’m not going to ask my V.I.Q. I’ll get a good answer, no matter what.”
“Exactly,” said Jessica.
“How can you believe what the Happy 8 Ball predicts if it just says goopy, good stuff all the time?” asked Judy.
“I don’t care,” said Jessica. “I like the Happy 8 Ball.”
“I need an Un-happy 8 Ball!” said Judy. “The one that doesn’t lie.”
And she knew just where to get it.
Judy talked Rocky and Frank into going with her to Vic’s Mini-Mart after school. Stink came too.
“I hope you’re not getting a fake hand to play another trick on me,” said Stink.
“No,” said Judy. “I’m getting a crystal ball.”
When they got to Vic’s, Judy led them all to the toy section. They saw troll doll trading cards, an eyeball piggy bank, and some cat erasers. Then Judy spied one. A black ball with the real number 8 on it in a white circle.
“Magic 8 Ball!” said Judy. “The real one.”
“That crystal ball is plastic,” said Stink.
“It still tells the future,” said Judy.
She held the Magic 8 Ball in the palm of her hand. She could almost feel its magic predicting powers.
“We can each ask one question,” said Judy. “Who dares to ask the All-Knowing Magic 8 Ball first?
“Me, me, me!” said Frank.
“Okay,” said Judy, handing him the ball.
“Will I get a Jawbreaker Maker for my birthday?” asked Frank.
“You forgot to close your eyes tight and concentrate,” said Judy.
Frank closed his eyes tight. Frank concentrated. He asked again. He shook the Magic 8 Ball. They all leaned over and peered into the tiny window.
Outlook not so good.
“I hope this thing lies,” said Frank.
“Me next,” said Rocky, taking the 8 Ball and shaking it. “Does Frank Pearl love Judy Moody?”
Signs point to yes.
“That’s so funny I forgot to laugh,” said Frank.
“Give me that,” said Judy.
“My turn,” said Stink.
“You only get one question, so think hard,” Judy said. “And hurry up.”
“Am I going to be president someday?” asked Stink.
Don’t count on it.
“Will my little brother ever stop driving me crazy?” asked Judy.
Better not tell you now.
Stink grabbed the Magic 8 Ball back. “Does Rocky love Judy?”
“Do not anger the Magic 8 Ball,” said the spooky-voiced Madame M. She peered into the little window. “Air bubble! See? You used up all your questions,” Madame M pronounced. “We have to put it back now.”
“How come?”
“Air bubble! It’s the rules!”
Stink, Rocky, and Frank went to buy gumballs.
“I’ll catch up,” Judy called.
Judy Moody did not put the Magic 8 Ball back on the shelf. She had one final question. The thing that had been bugging her for days. The V.I.Q.
Judy looked around. She concentrated. She shook the Magic 8 Ball. “Is Mr. Todd in love?” Judy whispered.
Reply hazy, try again.
Judy closed her eyes. She held her breath. She said some magic words. “Eeny meany jelly beany,” said Judy. “Is Mr. Todd in love?”
She shook the Magic 8 Ball. She shook it some more. At last, she opened her eyes.
There it was. The answer. In the window. A small triangle floating in blue liquid.
Yes, definitely.
Judy stretched out on her top bunk and stared up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling. It all added up. The red ring. The new glasses, the humming, the heart-shaped cookies. It was right there all the time. Her best-ever prediction. All she had to do was see it. Use her brain. Make the connection. Mr. Todd was in love!
At last, she, Madame M, could predict something really, truly big. Something really, truly true. Something only she, Judy Moody, knew about. Judy had a new plan. A perfect, foolproof, fail-safe, predicts-the-future plan. All she had to do now was trick Mr. Todd into trying on the mood ring. She had to see once and for all if it turned red for Romantic, In Love.
Only one thing stood in the way. She was not allowed to bring the mood ring to school.
On Friday morning, Judy took out her mood ring. She did not wear it on her finger. She did not show it to anyone. She kept it hidden in her baby-tooth box. She kept that hidden in the secret pocket of her backpack. Until after school.
Time for Project Mood Ring. Operation True Love. She, Dr. Judy Moody, was 3/4 sure and 9/10 certain that the Magic 8 Ball did not lie. But she had to be 110% sure-and-absolute positive.
“Mr. Todd,” said Judy, taking her mood ring out of the secret box. “I know I’m not supposed to bring my mood ring to school and everything, but I have a V.I.Q. A Very Important Question.”
“I’m going to be in a bad mood if I see that ring in class again.”
“I kept it put away all day,” said Judy. “I promise. I was just hoping I could ask you how a mood ring works. In the name of science and everything.”
“Mood rings are interesting,” said Mr. Todd. “They used to be popular when I was a kid, you know.”
“No way!” said Judy.
“Way!” said Mr. Todd, laughing. “Here, let me see that ring again.”
Mr. Todd held the ring with his fingers.
Judy tried to ESP Mr. Todd a message. Put the ring on. Put the ring on.
“Mood rings have their own science.”
Put the ring on.
“Did you know our bodies give off heat energy?”
Put the ring on.
Mr. Todd slipped the ring onto his index finger. “Liquid crystals change color as our bodies change temperature. See? Red is for hot.”
It worked! Red! The ring was r-e-d, red. Red for Romantic. Red for In Love. Red for sure and absolute positive.
“It is hot in here, isn’t it?” said Mr. Todd.
“Red hot,” said Judy. “Hot enough to melt Antarctica.”
“I’m afraid Antarctica is here to stay,” said Mr. Todd. He handed her the ring. “Does that answer your Very Important Question?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” said Judy. “Thanks, Mr. Todd!” Judy dashed out the door. Madame M was back in business. And she was going to predict a future better than ever. Judy kissed her mood ring!
As soon as she reached the bus, she slipped it onto her finger. The ring turned amber. Amber meant Nervous, Tense. She knew what she was nervous about: her Judy Moody best-ever prediction. Before she could tell anybody, she had to figure out who Mr. Todd was in love with. That was not going to be easy.
On Saturday morning, Judy went back to the library. She looked for Lynn, the friendly librarian with the fork-and-pie earrings.
Today, Lynn had skateboard earrings.
“You changed your earrings!” said Judy.
“I do that sometimes,” said Lynn, and she laughed. “What can I help you with?”
“Where are the books that tell you if a person is in love?”
“Well, you know,” Lynn said, “that kind of thing is hard to find in a book. Usually a person just sort of knows. Inside.”
“Just so you know, it’s not for me,” Judy said, turning three shades of red. “I’m trying to figure out if someone else is in love.”
“Ah. I see.”
“You have a million gazillion books. There must be something in here with lovey-dovey stuff. Everybody likes
love.”
“Let me think a minute,” said Lynn. “We do have Valentine’s Day books. And love stories.”
“No magic charms? Secret spells?”
“Let’s try the 100’s,” Lynn said. She led Judy right to the love section and pulled a purple book with silver writing off the shelf. The silver writing said, Find Your True Love. Judy opened it up and flipped through the pages. Chapter Five was titled, “All You Need Is a Bowl of Molasses!”
“Molasses! That’s easy! I’ll take it!” said Judy. “Thanks!”
Judy read the book while she waited in line to check out. She read it as she walked home. She read it walking into her house.
In ancient times, staring into a bowl of molasses might reveal the identity of a true love.
Judy went straight to the kitchen and poured a jar of thick, sticky molasses into a bowl. She added some magic words. “Eeny meany chili beany. Who does Mr. Todd love?” She stared and stared into the molasses.
What she saw looked a little like . . . a chicken.
No way! Mr. Todd was not in love with a chicken.
Instead of molasses, people in Egypt looked into pools of ink.
Judy got a bottle of rubber-stamp ink from the desk in the hall. When she poured it into a bowl, all she saw was a big fat mess. And an ink splat on her shirt that looked like Antarctica. Nobody was in love with Antarctica.
Place a dish on a table and drop twenty-one safety pins into it.
She skipped that one. She did not have twenty-one pins, safe or unsafe.
Place a piece of wedding cake under your pillow and dream of the person you’ll marry.
Wedding cake! Where on earth was she supposed to find wedding cake?
You will need a clock and a hairbrush.
Hairbrush! Judy had never met a hairbrush she liked. What did a hairbrush have to do with true love anyway? This love stuff sure was complicated!
Cut out twenty-six squares of paper, one for each letter of the alphabet. Place the letters of the alphabet face down in a bowl of water. The letters that turn face up will spell a loved one’s name.
Bowl of water. Letters. She circled it. She could trick Mr. Todd into that!
Judy Moody Predicts the Future Page 3
