Mr. Love yells, “Slooooooow doooooown!”
Ms. Hairball is flapping her arms around. She looks like she has been in a hot oven. Her face is sweaty and red. Her hair is sticking up. She looks a bit like she is losing her mind. I imagine her mind like a hamster scurrying around the school.
Someone screams from the carousel. I bet they are balancing on the smile.
Shaylene the squirrel races through the hallway. She scrambles onto the Book-Title Jar.
“A rodent!” yells Trixie’s mom.
Someone’s dad starts trying to thwack Shaylene with a broomstick—the prop from the photo booth.
I do not like Shaylene. But I do not want her thwacked by a broom. Shaylene skirts the broomstick and races outside.
Phew!
Mr. Love yells, “Marvellloooous fair, but it’s time to wrap up!”
No one listens.
Except me. I think Mr. Love is right. It is time to write in Spell. Spell will help wrap up this fair quickly. I giggle. If I wrote Wrap up the school fair in Spell, Spell would probably wrap us all up in wrapping paper. But, where is Spell?
I look in the roller coaster. Spell is not there. I look around the rest of the playground. I don’t see Spell anywhere. Oh, no. I think I have lost Spell.
I do lose things a lot.
Things I Have Lost
My glasses—lots
My turquoise pen—lots
My dinosaur backpack
The invitation to Hannah’s party
My sister!
A worried feeling goes through me like a slippery eel. Eel is a great word. I also like the word aardvark. When I lose things, my mom tells me to retrace my steps. She says: Concentrate, Polly. Think about where you have been. Just like I did when we lost Anna.
My dad usually adds, Concentrate means get your head straight! Then he usually puts his thumbs in his ears and waggles his hands and his whole head— like his head might fall off!
I go to my classroom. I check my cubby. I check my desk. I check my jacket pocket. No Spell. I check them all again.
An icky-sticky thought churns in my tummy. Then I remember:
The donation box!
What if someone found Spell? And put Spell in the donation box by mistake?
I run to the front foyer. The White Witch chats with Little Red Riding Hood. Next to a big, empty space. The donation box is gone.
“Excuse me,” I ask Little Red Riding Hood. “Where is the box of donation books?”
“Mrs. Akl and Ms. Arbul took the books to Ms. Arbul’s car. Oh, I’d better go. The wolf is coming.” She tugs her hood up and rushes off.
I rush to the parking lot. I see a lot of muddy puddles. But I do not see Mrs. Akl or Ms. Hairball.
Spell is gone. I have lost my magic book.
NINE
Tears fill my eyes. They slide behind my glasses. They drip down my cheeks.
Spell is the best book I’ve ever had.
I love novels and poems and true stories and dictionaries.
But in Spell, I can write anything. With my book, I can go anywhere. I can be anyone. Now Spell is lost. Donated.
Shaylene the squirrel is in the tree by the parking lot. She throws a nut at me.
“Hey, Shaylene,” I call up to her. “I’m sorry, but I can’t turn you back into a person.”
I guess Shaylene being a squirrel is not so bad. At least she can’t take selfies!
She clambers down the tree. She holds her little squirrel hands out, as if she’s asking me what I’m talking about.
“I lost my magic book. It has gone with Ms. Hairball to be donated.”
Shaylene shakes her squirrel head. She runs away, then runs back. She wants me to follow her. I run after her. She turns the corner of the school. There is another small parking lot there. And right in the middle: Ms. Hairball’s car. Her trunk is open. It is full of books.
Ms. Hairball is standing to one side of her car, deep in conversation with Merlin. Who I think is Mr. Novakoski.
Shaylene jumps onto the hood of the car. She natters at me again, this time pointing at the books. I start to riffle through the donated books.
A noise from the other side of the car makes me turn. It is a splashy, splooshy noise.
The Puddle Monster! It is mucky and muddy and huge. It drips around the car.
“Stay away from the books!” I cry.
The Puddle Monster wibbles and wobbles.
“Don’t get them wet!”
The Puddle Monster gets closer. It drips on my arm.
“Okay, you!” I cry. “You asked for it.” I swipe my shiny dictionary from the pile. I swoosh it around my head.
“I will vanquish you!”
The Puddle Monster screams and runs away.
Shaylene claps her little squirrel hands.
I keep searching through the books.
Ms. Hairball and Mr. Wizard-Novakoski notice us. “Is everything okay, Polly?”
“I have lost my magic book,” I say.
Ms. Hairball shakes her head. “Your turquoise writing book? It isn’t in here. I would have noticed it.”
My heart sinks. I feel it drop down into my tummy like a stone through water. I sigh. I look once more at the donated books. Ms. Hairball is right. Spell is not in the trunk. Spell is not in the donation pile.
Shaylene the squirrel chatters at me. I bet she is saying, “What if Spell is lost forever!” Just like she said about Anna when Anna was lost.
Anna! I remember when we were looking for Anna earlier. Then we found her. Then I wrote about character face-painting in Spell. Then I came back to find my family. And now I remember!
I left Spell on the low wall in the foyer.
“Come with me, Shaylene!” I say to Shaylene the squirrel.
Ms. Hairball looks puzzled. But I am running too fast to care. Shaylene rushes along with me. We dash to the foyer. I look on the low wall. Spell is not there. My heart starts to sink again. But then I spot my family.
I see that Anna the fairy is holding something turquoise. She is cuddling it like it’s a doll.
“My book!” I yell.
Anna says, “You lost it. I found it. Like you found me.” She really, really, really is very smart for a three-and-a-half-year-old.
I grab Spell. “Thank you, you super stunning spectacular sister!” I squeeze, squeeze, squeeze her.
Then, I open up Spell. Spell writes: Mr. Owl ate my metal worm!
What?
It ’s a palindrome. Do you like it?
I love it! I’m so glad I found you.
Dragon Dragons comes running into the foyer. He belches, and a small puff of flame comes from one of his mouths. Oh, no. He’s figured out how to blow fire!
Quickly, I write in Spell: Dawson Dawsons is a boy.
With a flash, Dawson appears instead of the two-headed dragon. Next to him appears another identical Dawson.
I write: No, Spell! That’s his name. He is only one boy. His name is Dawson Dawsons!
What a great name!
I know! But can you make him one boy? Two Dawsons is too many!
There is another flash, and Dawson Dawsons is back to his usual self. Except when he walks away, he swishes his butt as if he still had a tail.
I write: Spell, we have to clean up. First, we need to put the carousel away. Then we should pack up the Cotton-Cloud-Candy stall.
A huge creaking sound comes from the library— and then a smash and a boom from near the gym.
I run to the gym and see that Spell has stuffed the carousel into the equipment room. The Cheshire Cat yowls from underneath the gym mats. Eeek! Lining one side of the gym are several boxes. I open one nervously. It is full of sticky cotton candy.
I write: Spell, we need to tidy up!
There is a rumble and a whoosh. The boxes start to float into the air.
I write: NO! Not up in the air. Okay. Wait.
I think about how to get the right words into my book. Perhaps I should write a stor
y. I am a very good writer!
A Story About the End of the School Fair
The stalls are finished.
The rides are all done. The fair is over. Everyone is themselves. They loved being characters from books. Everyone has had a great day. The kids are happy, the adults are smiling, the teachers are delighted. The school is clean, tidy, and ready for school next week.
Sounds perfect.
Sounds super, stunning, and spectacular.
Trixie, Luala, and Hannah wave goodbye.
Dawson Dawsons roars a goodbye, even though he is no longer a real dragon.
I carry Spell over to my family. Baby Finn sleeps against my mom. When he is asleep, he looks cute. Cute for a squished-up baby, anyway.
Mom says, “What an outstanding fair.”
Outstanding has to be one of the best words ever. Outstanding. Standing Out.
“Polly, can I be a fairy again?” Anna asks.
“Sure,” I whisper. She is very smart for a three-and-a-half-year-old. Much smarter than the grown-ups. “But not now. Now it’s time to go home.”
I hug Spell close to me as we walk outside.
“Help! Mr. and Mrs. Diamond! Help! Polly!” Shaylene shouts. She is up a tree, but she is not a squirrel anymore. Below her, the Puddle Monster splooshes and splashes.
“Shaylene needs wings,” Anna says.
I giggle. “That is a super stunning spectacular idea, Anna!”
I open Spell. And begin to write.
The End.
POLLY’S FAVORITE BOOKS!
(How many have you read?)
Each Kindness by Jacqueline Woodson
Guinness World Records (any year!)
Shai & Emmie Star in Dancy Pants! by Quvenzhané Wallis
Ruby and the Booker Boys by Derrick Barnes
The Merriam-Webster Dictionary
Ivy + Bean by Annie Barrows
The Flat Earth Theory by Lori Arbul*
Winnie the Witch by Valerie Thomas
Carmen the Cheerleading Fairy by Daisy Meadows
How to Train Your Dragon by Cressida Cowell
The Adventures of Super Diaper Baby by Dav Pilkey
Flora & Ulysses by Kate DiCamillo
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
Phoebe and Her Unicorn by Dana Simpson
Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson
The Borrowers by Mary Norton
Paddington at The Palace by Michael Bond
The Royal Rabbits of London by Santa Montefiore and Simon Sebag Montefiore
Mary Poppins by P. L. Travers
The Winding Road to London by Esmeralda Black*
Because of Winn-Dixie by Kate DiCamillo
*You can’t read The Flat Earth Theory or The Winding Road to London because those books aren’t real!
ALICE KUIPERS is the author of eight books for young adults and children. Her books have been published in 34 countries and have won lots of awards. Born in London, she now lives in Canada with her partner, the author Yann Martel, their four children, and their dog, Bamboo. Alice has writing tips and ideas for any budding writers on her website, including a free course for young writers. Come and find her there: www.alicekuipers.com.
DIANA TOLEDANO’S name is pronounced “Deanna” because she is from Spain. Like Polly, she has curly hair and wears glasses. She grew up in Madrid where she studied art and art history. In addition to working as an illustrator, she also teaches workshops. She lives in San Francisco, where she shares a hundred-year-old house with her husband, a fluffy cat, and a crazy kitten. Learn more about her at www.diana-toledano.com.
Polly Diamond and the Super Stunning Spectacular School Fair Page 3
