Judy Moody Gets Famous!

by Megan McDonald

  “Honestly, it’s not so bad staying after school with me. We’ll find something useful to do, okay? Like maybe clean out the fish tank.”

  “Mr. Todd, is there a word for somebody who gets famous for all the wrong reasons?” asked Judy.

  “Yes,” said Mr. Todd. “That would be . . . infamous.”

  Judy peeled a banana.

  “Can I have that?” asked Stink. Judy handed him the banana peel.

  “Not that!” said Stink.

  Judy took a monster bite, then handed Stink the banana. She picked up a cherry instead.

  “What are you writing?” she asked her dad, popping the cherry into her mouth.

  “Garage sale,” said Dad. “I’m running an ad in the paper. It’s time to get rid of all that old stuff out there.”

  “Old stuff?” asked Judy, perking up. Old stuff got people in the newspaper. Really really old stuff even got people on TV. “What old stuff?”

  “Your old bike, Mom’s books from college, Stink’s baby clothes.”

  “Don’t we have any old-old stuff?”

  “There’s Dad,” said Stink.

  “Thanks a lot,” said Dad.

  “No. I mean like Cleopatra’s eyelash,” said Judy. “Or a hammer used to build the Statue of Liberty. You know. Stuff old enough to be really worth something.”

  “Stuff you didn’t know you had and you find out you’re rich?” Stink grinned. “Like antiques from your great-great-great-grandmother? You go on TV and they tell you it’s worth a bunch of money.”

  “I’m afraid nobody’s going to get rich around here. Our old stuff is junk,” said Dad.

  “ROAR,” said Judy. She pulled the stem off another cherry.

  If only she had something unusual. Really rare. Like maybe a broken plate from another century, or an old letter from the American Revolution.

  “So, what’s happening in school these days?” Dad asked.

  Judy sat up. Had Dad heard about the white cards? “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, is anything interesting going on?”

  “Can I stay after school Friday?” asked Judy. “Mr. Todd says I can help clean the fish tank.”

  “P-U,” said Stink.

  “We’ll see if Mom can pick you up. How about you, Stink?”

  Judy popped another cherry into her mouth.

  “We learned this funny story about George Washington,” said Stink. “It’s about not telling a lie.”

  Judy chomped down on the cherry.

  “See, he chopped down this cherry tree. And when his dad asked who did it, Washington said, ‘I cannot tell a lie.’ And he told on himself.”

  Judy almost choked. She spit out her cherry pit. It went zinging across the table at Stink.

  “Hey,” said Stink. “She spit at me.”

  “It was an accident,” said Judy.

  “Judy!” said Dad.

  “Okay. Okay. I cannot tell a lie. I coughed a cherry pit at Stink.”

  “Pick up the cherry pit,” said Dad.

  Judy reached under Stink’s chair and picked it up off the floor.

  “No fair,” said Judy. “Why should anyone get famous for telling a lie? The whole story about the lie is a lie!”

  “Most people don’t realize it’s not true,” said Dad.

  “It’s still a good story,” said Stink.

  Judy turned the cherry pit over and over. It gave her a brilliant Judy-Moody-Gets-Famous idea. A two-hundred-fifty-year-old idea.

  Judy took the cherry pit upstairs to her room. She got out her hair dryer, and turned it on HIGH.

  “What are you doing?” asked Stink, who had followed her upstairs.

  “What does it look like?” said Judy. “I’m blow-drying my cherry pit.”

  “You’re nuts,” said Stink.

  After he left, Judy got out the tiny hammer from her doctor kit, the one for testing reflexes. She tapped on the cherry pit to give it scars, so it would look old. Very, very old. Next she took a pin and carved the initials GW on the bottom. Then, she took out her clear plastic bug-box, the one with the magnifying glass on top, and put the cherry pit inside for safekeeping, initials-side up.

  “Rare!” said Judy. And that was the truth.

  On the afternoon of the garage sale, Stink had his own table filled with tub toys, rusty Matchbox cars, Lincoln Logs, a rubber band ball, Shrinky Dinks that had already been shrunk, paper cooties, broken rhythm instruments, and glow-in-the-dark bugs he made with his Creepy Crawlers machine.

  “Stink, nobody is going to buy that stuff,” Judy told him.

  “Yeah, right,” said Stink. “And they’re going to buy air?” he said, pointing to Judy’s empty table.

  “You’ll see,” said Judy. “I have something better than junk.” She covered her table with a midnight blue tablecloth that looked like velvet. She put up a sign:

  Then she set her magnifying bug-box in the middle of the table. Inside was — ta da! — the FAMOUS cherry pit.

  Judy added one more line to her sign:

  5¢ A LOOK

  She could hardly sit still. She wondered how long it would take the newspaper people to come take her picture with the two-hundred-fifty-year-old cherry pit.

  Little kids put a nickel in the can and said, “Wow, is that REALLY from George Washington’s cherry tree?”

  “I cannot tell a lie,” said Judy. “It is!”

  “Where’d you get it?” they asked.

  “It’s been in the family forever.”

  “Forever since last week,” said Stink. Judy turned on him with her stinging caterpillar look.

  “How do you know it’s really George Washington’s?” they asked.

  “Just look,” said Judy. She opened the lid and lifted out the cherry pit. “It says GW right here. See?”

  “Let me see,” said a girl named Hannah. She showed her little brother. “GW. It’s just like M&M’s.”

  “M&M’s!” said the boy, and popped the pit into his mouth.

  “Ricky, NO!” said his older sister. But it was too late.

  “Spit!” said Judy.

  “Spit it out, Ricky!” said Hannah.

  Ricky gulped!

  “Oh, no! Did he swallow it?” asked Judy. “Stick your finger in his mouth. Is it still in there?”

  “It’s gone,” said Hannah. “Say you’re sorry, Ricky.”

  “M&M’s. Yum,” said Ricky.

  “This is the pits,” said Judy. “Now what am I going to do when the newspaper comes?”

  “Duh. Make another one?” said Stink.

  Judy groaned. Judy moaned. In one gulp, that kid had swallowed her famous two-hundred-fifty-year-old George Washington cherry pit. In one gulp, Ricky the neighbor kid had swallowed Judy Moody’s ticket to fame.

  The only picture of that cherry pit would be an X-ray.

  Stink counted his garage sale money at the kitchen table. Clink. Clink. CLINK.

  “Stink, you’re counting that money out loud on purpose,” said Judy.

  “I can’t help it!” said Stink. “Mom, tell her. Money makes noise. When you have so much of it.” He grinned.

  Judy crumpled up the newspaper that had their garage sale ad in it. She stuffed it angrily into the trash.

  “Recycle, please,” said Mom.

  “Whoa,” said Stink. “The recycle queen put paper in the trash?”

  “Can I use it to line Mouse’s litter box?” asked Judy.

  “Good idea,” said Mom.

  Judy uncrumpled the paper and spread it on the floor to flatten it.

  EARLY BIRD SPECIAL! . . .

  GARAGE DOOR SALE! . . .

  FAMOUS PET CONTEST! . . .

  KISS BAD BREATH GOOD-BYE!

  Wait! Did that say famous? Judy went back and read it again:

  Judy could not believe her eyes. “Where’s Mouse?” she asked.“Upstairs,” said Mom.

  “Here, Mousey, Mousey,” Judy called. Mouse came down the stairs and strolled into the kitchen, looking for some l
unch.

  Judy scooped up her cat and kissed her on the nose: “Mww, mww, mwww. You, the best, most wonderful cat in the whole wide world with tuna fish on top, are going to make me famous!”

  Visions of blue ribbons and certificates with fancy writing danced in her head. “And I get my picture in the paper.”

  “Hey,” she said to her family, “does anybody feel like a piece of toast?”

  When Judy hurried into Fur & Fangs with Mouse and Stink that Saturday, it was packed.

  Clutching a piece of bread, she said, “Everyone in the entire state of Virginia must own a pet that can do a trick. Hey, there’s Frank!”

  “And there’s Rocky,” said Stink.

  “You guys! Frank! Rocky! Over here!” Judy called.

  Frank’s dog, Sparky, sniffed a purple dog bone. Sparky sniffed Judy’s ankle. Sparky sniffed a ferret.

  “What trick does Sparky do?” Stink asked Frank.

  “He jumps through a Hula-hoop, don’t you, boy?” said Frank.

  “I brought Houdini,” Rocky said, showing them his iguana. “If you scare him, like with a loud noise or something, he can make the end of his tail drop right off.”

  “Rare,” said Judy.

  She looked around at all the other pets. There was a rabbit and a turtle, a white rat named Elvis, and a striped salamander. Judy saw a hamster racing on a wheel, a snake so still it looked fake, and a shell that was supposed to be a hermit crab. Someone had even brought a stuffed monkey.

  “Time for the contest!” yelled the pet store lady over all the squeaking and squawking, growling and yowling.

  All the people with pets formed a circle. First was a dancing cricket. Then a turtle that rolled over and a rabbit that drank from a straw.

  Polly the parrot sang the first five notes of “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Judy caught herself clapping.

  When it was Frank’s turn, Sparky jumped through the Hula-hoop three times and everybody clapped. Then Rocky could not get Houdini’s tail to drop off. “Dogs make him nervous,” Rocky explained.

  Three pet tricks later, Polly was still singing.

  Emily from school had a ferret named Suzy who brushed its own teeth. Stink liked it the best.

  “But all it did was eat the toothpaste,” said Judy.

  When it was Judy’s turn, she set up a toaster on the floor, dropped a piece of bread into the slot, then took Mouse out of her cat carrier.

  “This is Mouse,” Judy told the audience. “She’s going to make toast.” The audience clapped. Judy stood Mouse on the table. “Don’t be nervous,” she whispered.

  Mouse sat down and began licking her paw.

  “Look at the toaster, Mouse,” whispered Judy. “The toaster!” Judy pushed it toward Mouse.

  Mouse swatted the toaster. Mouse swiped at the toaster. Mouse pushed the toaster away with her paw. Everybody cracked up. Judy held out a Tasty Tuna Treat. Mouse stood up. Mouse saw herself in the toaster!

  Judy held her breath.

  Mouse swiped at the toaster one more time. This time she pressed down the button with her paw. The slice of bread disappeared! The red coils heated up.

  The crowd got quiet. A minute later, the toast popped up.

  “Ta da!” called Judy.

  “Hooray!” Everybody clapped and cheered.

  “Mouse, I’ll be famous at last!” Judy squeezed her.

  “And now, last but not least,” said the pet store lady, “a chicken that plays the piano.”

  Up stepped David, a boy with a chicken on a leash.

  “This is Mozart,” said the boy. Mozart pecked out three notes on the toy piano with his beak. “‘Three Blind Mice’!” someone yelled. The crowd went wild.

  Judy felt a familiar twinge, the tug of a bad mood. She, Judy Moody, would never be as famous as a piano-playing chicken.

  For the grand finale, everyone paraded their pets, marching in a circle.

  “What a great contest this year,” said the pet store lady. “I’d like to thank all of you for coming. Now, for the prizes,” said the pet store lady. “If I call your pet’s name, please step into the center of the circle.”

  A man stepped up to the circle with a big camera.

  “The newspaper! They’re here,” Judy announced.

  “In third place, Suzy Chang, the tooth-brushing ferret.”

  Please-please-please, Judy wished silently.

  “Second place is Mouse Moody, the cat who makes toast!”

  “That’s you!” said Frank and Rocky, pushing Judy into the circle.

  “Mouse, we won!” cried Judy. “Second place!” At last her time had come. At last her chance to be famous.

  “And first prize goes to Mozart Puckett, the piano-playing chicken! Let’s hear it for all the famous pets!”

  The crowd went wild. Each pet got a blue ribbon to wear and a gift certificate to Fur & Fangs. The winners lined up to have a picture taken! Judy was on the end, holding Mouse, but Mouse squirmed and leaped out of Judy’s arms. Flash! Judy blinked. The newspaper man snapped a picture faster than lightning.

  “Thank you, everybody! That’s it!” yelled the pet store lady.

  “That’s it?” asked Judy.

  Judy’s fifteen minutes of fame lasted only fifteen seconds. Fifteen seconds of fame, and she, Judy Moody, had blinked.

  The following morning, Judy ran outside to fetch the paper. She whipped through the pages. Her heart beat faster.

  “Here it is!” Judy cried. She could not believe her eyes. There were David Puckett and Emily Chang with mile-wide smiles. There were Mozart the chicken and Suzy the ferret.

  “Let me see!” said Stink. “Hey, there’s Mouse!”

  “I’m not even in the picture!” yelled Judy.

  “There you are!” said Stink, pointing to an elbow.

  “I’m not famous!” Judy wailed. “I’m an elbow!”

  “Let’s see,” said Dad. He read the caption. “Blah-blah, winners of the Famous Pet Contest, blah-blah. It says your name, right here. See? Mouse and Judy . . . Muddy.”

  “WHAT!” said Judy. “Muddy? Let me see.”

  “Judy Muddy! That’s a good one,” said Stink.

  “Judy Muddy! No one will ever know it’s me,” said Judy.

  “We’ll know,” said Dad.

  Judy frowned. “I guess your name is Mud,” Dad said, laughing.

  “ROAR!” said Judy.

  “At least it says Mouse won the contest,” Mom said. She cut out the picture and hung it up on the fridge.

  “Great,” said Judy. “Even my cat’s in the Moody Hall of Fame.”

  Mom kissed the top of Judy’s head. “And you have one very famous elbow.”

  Judy studied her famous elbow in the mirror. She squished her elbow into a wrinkled happy face. She squinched her elbow into a mad face.

  If Judy ever hoped to be more famous than an elbow, she needed some help. Judy called all members of the Toad Pee Club. “Meet at the clubhouse,” she told everybody.

  Rocky, Frank, and Judy crowded into the blue tent in her backyard. Last was Stink, who carried Toady, their mascot, in one hand, and walked while reading a book.

  “Stink, you better watch out or you’ll renew your membership.”

  “OH!” said Stink. He tossed Toady into the bucket before the toad famous for peeing in people’s hands did it again.

  “Now,” said Judy, “how can we make me famous?”

  “Let’s think,” Rocky said.

  “Stink, you’re not thinking,” said Judy.

  “Getting famous is boring,” said Stink, leafing through his book.

  “Stink, what book could be soooooooooo interesting?”

  Stink held up the Guinness Book of World Records. Judy looked at Frank. Frank looked at Rocky. Rocky looked at Judy. “Brainstorm!” the three yelled at the same time. Then they cracked up.

  “Stink, you are a genius. The secret to getting famous is right there in your hands.”

  Stink checked his hands.

>   “Don’t you get it?” said Judy. “I could break a record and get in that book! Then I’d be superfamous.”

  “Famous. Famous. Famous. YOU are a broken record,” Stink told her.

  “Hardee-har-har,” said Judy.

  “You know how you collect stuff, like Band-Aids?” said Frank. “You could break a record for collecting something. Like the most pizza tables.”

  “Or scabs!” said Judy.

  “Bluck,” said Stink. “There’s a guy in here who collects throw-up bags from airplanes. He has two thousand one hundred and twelve. One bag even has a connect-the-dots drawing of Benjamin Franklin on it.”

  “That’s way better than scabs,” said Judy.

  “Hey, look,” Rocky said, reading over Stink’s shoulder. “World’s longest word. Spell that and you could be the next Jessica Finch.”

  The word was: Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.

  “Whoa. Forty-five letters,” said Frank, counting.

  “Not even Queen Bee herself could spell that!” said Judy.

  “It says here it’s an ucky disease from volcanoes,” Rocky said. “No lie.”

  “Wait! I got it. There’s a guy in here with the longest neck,” said Stink. “We could all pull on your head to stretch your neck out!”

  “I want to be famous, not a giraffe,” said Judy.

  “With a giraffe neck you would be famous,” Stink told her.

  “Let me see that book.” Judy grabbed the book of records and flipped through the pages. Longest gum wrapper chain? It took thirty-one years to make! Longest fingernail? No way; the guy hasn’t cut his thumbnail since 1952. Best spitter? Judy could spit.

  Then she saw it. Right there on page 399.

  The human centipede!

  “Okay. Listen up. We’re going to be a giant creepy-crawly,” said Judy. “Let’s tie our shoelaces together, then walk like a caterpillar. The old record is ninety-eight feet and five inches. Rocky, remember last summer we measured with a string? It was one hundred feet to your house and back. So all we have to do is walk from here to Rocky’s and back to break the record.”