by Barbara Park
Hurray for Barbara Park
and the Junie B. Jones® books!
“Park, one of the funniest writers around … brings her refreshing humor to the beginning chapter-book set.”
—Booklist
“Park convinces beginning readers that Junie B.— and reading—are lots of fun.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Park is simply hilarious.”
—America Online's The Book Report
“Junie B. is a darling of the young-reader set.”
—USA Today
“Children's book star Junie B. Jones is a feisty six-year-old with an endearing penchant for honesty.”
—Time
“First grade offers a whole year of exciting possibilities for Junie B…. As always, Park is in touch with what kids know and how they feel.”
—School Library Journal
“Sassy, hilarious, and insightful. Park obviously understands the passions and fears of first-graders.”
—Booklist
Laugh out loud with Junie B. Jones!
#1 Junie B. Jones and the Stupid Smelly Bus
#2 Junie B. Jones and a Little Monkey Business
#3 Junie B. Jones and Her Big Fat Mouth
#4 Junie B. Jones and Some Sneaky Peeky Spying
#5 Junie B. Jones and the Yucky Blucky Fruitcake
#6 Junie B. Jones and That Meanie Jim's Birthday
#7 Junie B. Jones Loves Handsome Warren
#8 Junie B. Jones Has a Monster Under Her Bed
#9 Junie B. Jones Is Not a Crook
#10 Junie B. Jones Is a Party Animal
#11 Junie B. Jones Is a Beauty Shop Guy
#12 Junie B. Jones Smells Something Fishy
#13 Junie B. Jones Is (almost) a Flower Girl
#14 Junie B. Jones and the Mushy Gushy Valentime
#15 Junie B. Jones Has a Peep in Her Pocket
#16 Junie B. Jones Is Captain Field Day
#17 Junie B. Jones Is a Graduation Girl
#18 Junie B., First Grader (at last!)
#19 Junie B., First Grader: Boss of Lunch
#20 Junie B., First Grader: Toothless Wonder
#21 Junie B., First Grader: Cheater Pants
#22 Junie B., First Grader: One-Man Band
#23 Junie B., First Grader: Shipwrecked
#24 Junie B., First Grader: BOO … and I MEAN It!
#25 Junie B., First Grader: Jingle Bells, Batman Smells! (P.S. So Does May)
#26 Junie B., First Grader: Aloha-ha-ha!
#27 Junie B., First Grader: Dumb Bunny
Top-Secret Personal Beeswax: A Journal by Junie B. (and me!)
Check out Barbara Park's other great books, listed at the end of this book!
1. Dumb Bunnies and Clucks
2. Clothes and Nubs
3. Waiting and Waiting
4. Eggs and Sweaty and Other Stuff
5. The Jelly Bean Game
6. Me and Santa
7. Polite Rules
8. Swooping
9. Lucky Bunny!
10. Decisions
I put down my pencil and looked at May.
Then I squinted my eyes real teensy.
And I thought that name to just myself.
Dumb bunny! Dumb bunny! Dumb bunny! Dumb bunny!
May looked suspicious at me.
“What are you doing, Junie Jones? Why are you squinting like that?” she asked. “Stop it right now. Stop that squinting.”
I paused my squint.
“I'm not just squinting at you, May. I'm also thinking a name about you inside my head. But you don't even know what name I'm thinking. ’Cause heads are silent. Which is what I like about heads,” I said.
May frowned.
I started my squint again.
Dumb bunny, dumb bunny, dumb bunny, dumb bunny, dumb bunny, I thought.
After I finished, I brushed my hands together very satisfied.
“There. That ought to hold me for a while,” I said.
May kept on frowning.
Then BLAM!
She exploded out of her chair! And she zoomed to the front of the room!
“Mr. Scary! Mr. Scary! Junie B. called me that name again! I know she did! Only she thought it inside her head! And that is just plain sneaky!”
Mr. Scary was writing at his desk.
He closed his eyes and did a big breath.
“May, what are our three new rules about tattling?” he asked. “You and I came up with three new rules to control your tattling, remember? Can you tell me what they are, please?”
May stood there a real long time.
She did not like the three new rules, I believe.
Finally, she started to say them.
“Rule number one: Count to twenty before I tattle,” she grumped.
Mr. Scary nodded. “Yes, May. Excellent. That's the first rule. Go on.”
“Rule number two,” said May. “If I still feel like tattling, count to twenty again.”
Mr. Scary did a thumbs-up.
“Yes, good … and rule number three?”
May sucked in her cheeks.
“Rule number three: If I still feel like tattling after that … go home … eat dinner … go to bed … wake up … eat breakfast … come back to school … raise my hand to tattle … then put my hand over my mouth … and please be quiet,” she said.
Mr. Scary clapped his happy hands.
“Perfect! You've got it! Those are exactly the rules we talked about, aren't they?” he said. “I'm very proud of you for remembering them!”
He stood up and walked her back to her chair.
“You have a great memory for rules, May,” he said. “But the next step is to actually follow the rules, okay? And I don't believe you counted to twenty this time, did you?”
I leaned over and tapped on him.
“I can vouch for that,” I said. “There was definitely no counting.”
Mr. Scary frowned at me.
“I'll deal with you in a minute, Miss Jones,” he said. “You and I are going to review the rules on name-calling.”
I did a gulp.
“But I didn't even call her a name, Mr. Scary. All I did was think a name in my head,” I said.
May flashed her angry eyes.
“No, you did not just think it, Junie Jones. You told me you were thinking it. And that is exactly like saying it, almost,” she said.
She went on.
“Plus you didn't even think it quietly. You thought it so loud that I could hear it in your brain.”
May looked up at Mr. Scary.
“My ears were tested last year in kindergarten,” she said. “The nurse said I can hear as good as a North American barn owl.”
Mr. Scary stared at her a real long time.
“No, May. No. I'm sorry,” he said finally. “But the nurse did not tell you that. You do not hear as well as a North American barn owl.”
May squirmed in her chair a little bit.
Squirming is what happens after fibbing.
At least that has always been my experience.
After a minute, May put her head on her desk. And she covered up with her sweater.
Mr. Scary bent down next to me.
“And as for you, Miss Jones … this is the absolute last time that I ever want to talk to you about name-calling,” he said. “I don't want you to say dumb bunny, or think dumb bunny, or sing dumb bunny, or hum dumb bunny, or write dumb bunny. Do you understand?”
I tapped my fingers on my desk.
“But then what am
I supposed to do when May is mean to me?” I asked him. “I have to call her something or else she won't even know I'm mad.”
I thought for a second. Then I clapped my hands together.
“Hey! I know! Maybe I could just think the dumb part in my head. And I'll call her just plain bunny!” I said. “Would just plain bunny be okay with you?”
May popped up from under her sweater.
“No, no, no!” she grouched. “Just plain bunny isn't nice, either!”
My friend named Sheldon stood up.
“Bunny isn't nice? How come bunny isn't nice?” he asked. “I have an aunt named Bunny. And she's very, very nice.”
Sheldon looked at Mr. Scary.
“My aunt Bunny is married to my uncle Vern,” he said. “Aunt Bunny has a lot of—”
Mr. Scary quick held up his hand.
“Yes, Sheldon, we know. You've told us many interesting things about your aunt Bunny. But right now we don't need to hear any more about your aunt Bunny's—”
“Skull tattoos,” said Sheldon.
“Please sit down,” said Mr. Scary.
Across the room, Lucille sprang right up.
“Well, I love, love, love bunnies!” she said. “And so this subject is perfect timing for me! Because I'm having a big party at my giant house on Saturday! And all of you are invited to come!”
She bounced up and down real excited.
“And guess what else? A very famous bunny is going to be there to meet you! Guess who it is, everyone! Guess the bunny! Guess the bunny!” she said.
Room One thought real hard.
Then all of us started to guess at once.
“Bugs Bunny?”
“Buster Bunny?”
“The Bionic Bunny?”
“Thumper?” we guessed.
Lucille rolled her eyes.
“No, no, no,” she said. “My bunny is way more famous than those dumb cartoon guys.”
We guessed some more.
“The Trix Rabbit?”
“The Velveteen Rabbit?”
“Peter Rabbit?” we asked.
Lucille stamped her foot.
“NO!” she said again. “What's wrong with you people? It's the Easter Bunny! Haven't you ever heard of the Easter Bunny?”
She reached into her desk and pulled out some fancy envelopes.
Then she waved them around real angry.
“Do you see these invitations? Huh? Do you?” she asked. “These are invitations to an Easter-egg hunt at my rich, expensive house! And I was going to pass them out at lunch. But if you dumb clucks never even heard of the Easter Bunny, just never mind the whole thing!”
After that, she did a huffy. And she flounced back in her chair.
Mr. Scary hurried over there.
Then he quick got her up.
And he took her by the hand.
And he walked her into the hall.
They were gone a real long time.
When they finally came back, Lucille said she is sorry for calling us dumb clucks.
That is some kind of insult, apparently.
Then she took the envelopes out of her desk again. And she gave everyone an invitation.
And so, yippee, yippee!
Hurray, hurray!
Room One is going to a party!
Lucille was still mad at lunch.
“I just don't get it,” she grouched. “How could anyone forget the Easter Bunny? The Easter Bunny brings candy right to your door.”
Lennie did a frown at her.
“He doesn't bring candy to my door, Lucille,” he said. “The Easter Bunny is a different religion than me. I'm Jewish.”
Shirley nodded.
“I'm Jewish, too, Lucille,” she said. “I've never even been to an Easter-egg hunt before. What do you wear to something like that, anyway?”
Lucille stood up and fluffed herself.
“Well—since the Easter Bunny and I are the same religion—I'm going to wear a fancy Easter dress, Shirley,” she said.
Shirley thought for a minute. Then she nodded.
“Hmm. Then I guess I will wear a fancy Jewish dress,” she said.
Lennie's eyes lighted up.
“Really, Shirley? You mean we have our own clothing line?” he asked.
He smiled.
“Then I think I will wear some fancy Jewish pants,” he said.
My friend named Herbert tapped on his chin.
“Let's see. Since I'm a Pressed-byterian, I guess I should wear Pressed-byterian pants,” he said.
He turned and looked at me.
“Pressed-byterian means we iron out our wrinkles, I think,” he said.
Just then, Sheldon slapped the table with his hand.
“Hey, I know! I will wear a fancy turban! A fancy turban is religious clothes, right?” he asked. “I love fancy turbans!”
Mr. Scary was listening to us while he ate.
He quick put down his sandwich.
“Boys and girls, you're getting way off track here,” he said. “Lucille's Easter-egg hunt is not a religious party. Really. I've spoken to her mother about it. It's more of a spring picnic with an egg-hunt activity. Am I right, Lucille?”
“Yes,” she said. “My mother said the Easter Bunny isn't even working that day. He's just going to hop around the party … and smile … and have his picture taken with people.”
I thought about that for a second.
“I don't think bunnies should smile,” I said. “Bunnies have yellow teeth, like clown teeth. Except bunny teeth are way pointier.”
Sheldon nodded.
“My aunt Bunny has a pointy tooth,” he said. “She can stab a pickle with it. And the pickle just stays there.”
All of us stared at him.
Sheldon has the interestingest family I ever heard of.
Lucille did a big breath.
“Well, I don't care about pointy bunny teeth,” she said. “Bunnies have cute floppy ears, and puffy, fluffy tails, and itchy, twitchy little noses.”
I kept on picturing their teeth. “Bunny teeth can nibble your head into a nub,” I said.
“No, they cannot, Junie B. Jones,” she said back.
“Oh yes they can, Lucille whatever-your-last-name-is,” I said. “I saw it on Oprah.”
Mr. Scary glared at me.
I ducked down in my seat. And I quieted my voice.
“Oprah has a lot of nub information,” I said very soft.
Mr. Scary glared again.
I started to squirm.
Teachers can spot a fib a mile away.
* * *
At recess, Lucille told us more about the party.
She said that there was going to be lots of delicious food to eat. Plus also, there was going to be an exciting prize for the Easter-egg winner.
“And wait till you hear this!” she said. “My daddy is going to hide a real pretend golden egg! And whoever finds the golden egg will win The Grand Prize of the Day! And that is a fabulous playdate with … ME! LUCILLE!”
She twirled around and hugged herself.
“And it's not just any old fabulous play-date with me, either!” she said. “The winner is going to get to go swimming with me in my heated indoor swimming pool that we just had enclosed!”
She did a little shiver and rubbed her arms.
“Isn't that exciting, everyone?” she asked. “Doesn't that give you the tinkles?”
She looked around.
“Well? Doesn't it? Huh? Doesn't it make you tinkle all over?” she asked.
All of the children looked curious at each other.
Herbert rocked back and forth on his feet a minute.
“Um, I think you mean the tingles” he said at last.
José nodded. “Sí, Lucille. You definitely mean the tingles,” he said.
Lucille squinted at those two.
“Tingles … tinkles … whatever. The point is, a playdate with me gives you goose bumps on your arms,” she said. “Just look at your arms, people. D
on't you see them? Don't you see the goose bumps?”
All of us looked at our arms.
None of us saw the goose bumps.
We waited and waited real patient.
And then finally—
“GOOSE BUMPS!” shouted Sheldon. “I SEE GOOSE BUMPS, LUCILLE!”
He ran to her and pointed.
“Look, Lucille! See them? See my goose bumps?” he asked.
Lucille's face beamed very happy.
“Ooooh, Sheldon! Those are the goose-bumpiest goose bumps I ever saw! Thank you, Shelsie! Thank you for those goose bumps!” she said.
After that, she gave him a big hug. And she waved her fingers at us.
“Well, ta-ta, everyone,” she said. “It's time for me to go look at myself in the cafeteria window.”
Then she shook her shiny hair. And she skipped away.
Sheldon kept on standing there.
He was shocked from the hug, I think.
Then, all of a sudden, his whole face lighted up. And he began to shout.
“Lucille! Wait up! I'll look at myself in the cafeteria window, too!” he shouted.
He took off skipping after her.
I smiled to see that.
“I think Sheldon has a crunch on Lucille,” I said to my friend Herbert.
Herb looked funny at me.
“You mean crush, Junie B. He has a crush on Lucille,” he said.
I started to laugh.
“Don't be ridiculous, Herbert. It's definitely crunch,” I said. “I am excellent at eggspressions.”
Herb looked funny at me again. I do not know why.
After a minute, Sheldon and Lucille skipped past us.
They were smiling and giggling and chasing each other.
Sheldon was calling to her.
“Come back here, you springy little lamb!” he called.
I slapped my knee.
