Once Upon a Time in Elmore: When Gumball Met Penny

by Wrigley Stuart

  PRICE STERN SLOAN

  Published by the Penguin Group

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  THE AMAZING WORLD OF GUMBALL and all related characters and elements are trademarks of and © 2015 Turner Broadcasting System Europe Limited & Cartoon Network, Time Warner Companies. All Rights Reserved.

  Photo credits: Cover and Title Page: (bars) © Carmine Salvatore/iStock/Thinkstock; (bench) © Marek Slusarczyk/iStock/Thinkstock; (chain) © Aleksan Ghojoyan/iStock/Thinkstock; (field) © slav/iStock/Thinkstock; (park) © claudiodivizia/iStock/Thinkstock; (pathway) © Akabei/iStock/Thinkstock; (swing) © Torian Dixon/Hemera/Thinkstock; (tree leaves) © AnaitBoyajyan/iStock/Thinkstock; (tree shadow) © Elenathewise/iStock/Thinkstock; (trunk) © Wavebreakmedia Ltd/Wavebreak Media/Thinkstock; here, here, here, here,

  (chainlink): © iStock/Thinkstock; (fireworks): © iStock/Thinkstock; (tree): © iStock/Thinkstock; (clouds): © iStock/Thinkstock.

  Published in 2015 by Price Stern Sloan, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. PSS! is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

  ISBN 978-0-698-40377-2

  Version_1

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  The Cheese Head

  The Crush

  The Hat

  The Plan

  The Confidence

  The Chase

  The Hatless

  The 'Fraidy Cat

  The Hero

  The Other Hat

  The Gift

  The neon numbers on the alarm clock flashed from 1:59 a.m. to 2:00 a.m. Yet Gumball Watterson lay on his bedcovers, eyes open. This was no time for a nine-year-old to be wide awake. He stared at the wooden slats of the top bunk above him. No one slept up there. Instead, the sound of snoring came from Darwin’s fishbowl.

  School started in the morning. Gumball’s mind filled with a combination of excitement and dread. He was excited to see his friends again, but incredibly bummed that summer vacation was over.

  Gumball stared at his clock.

  The numbers now read 2:01.

  Would morning never come?

  Gumball got out of bed, tiptoed into the hallway, and then headed down the stairs.

  If he couldn’t sleep, then Gumball might as well do something important, like watch TV.

  Gumball yawned as he sat on the living room couch. He dug in between the seat cushions, pulling out the television remote control. He flipped through channels of boring infomercials and reruns. Cartoons weren’t on this late. Or was it this early? Gumball was too groggy to think straight, but too antsy to sleep. He breathed deeply, his eyelids feeling heavy, and he watched a show about a blender.

  It was an awesome blender. Not only did the machine cut, chip, whip, and puree fruits and veggies, but it could also cut, chip, whip, and puree watches, a digital camera, and a key chain. Gumball eyed the phone number flashing at the bottom of the screen. If he ordered the blender within the next thirty seconds, he would also get a set of knives.

  He imagined blending his sneakers, a lightbulb, and the bowl of Cheezy-Bites snacks that sat on the coffee table in front of him.

  His dad must have left the bowl out last night.

  Gumball’s mind floated off, dreaming of various electronics mangled and mixed from high-performance blending. His eyelids once again grew heavy, his breathing slowed, and he drifted off to sleep.

  "Wake up!"

  Gumball’s eyes popped open, and he saw a sea of orange.

  He had fallen asleep with his head in the bowl of Cheezy-Bites.

  Gumball’s mother stood over him. Nicole Watterson was dressed for work in her Rainbow Factory uniform: a gray skirt, a white shirt, and, of course, her rainbow-colored badge. “You’ll be late for school!”

  Gumball’s father, Richard Watterson, stood next to her. He adjusted his black work tie and patted the red woolen cap he always wore on his head. He rubbed a finger across Gumball’s forehead. “Yum! Processed cheese dust!” he exclaimed as he licked his finger.

  “Hurry! School!” Mrs. Watterson shouted.

  Gumball bolted off the sofa and into the bathroom. He stared in the mirror. He gasped. The top half of his light-blue head was coated with Cheezy-Bites cheese powder. He wiped his forehead as hard as he could with a hand towel.

  The orange stain refused to budge.

  “My head is orange!” squealed a panicked Gumball.

  Darwin stood in the bathroom doorway. “What’s wrong with having an orange head?” he asked.

  “Sure, orange looks good on you,” cried Gumball. “But I can’t go to school like this!”

  “You’ll have to,” said Darwin. “There’s no time to wash it off. Mrs. Mom says we have to hurry or we’re going to miss the bus.”

  Gumball squeezed between Darwin and the door frame and dashed to the hall closet. “No . . . no . . . maybe,” he mumbled, as he rummaged through a large cardboard box at the back of the closet.

  “Why are you looking at our old Halloween costumes?” asked Darwin.

  Gumball grabbed a pirate hat, glared at it, and then threw it back into the box. A moment later, Gumball emerged from the closet. A large black fedora with a small white feather was perched on his head.

  “Why are you dressed like a 1920s gangster?” asked Darwin.

  “Because I look awesome!” Gumball announced. He puffed out his chest. He tilted the hat. It completely covered the cheesy powder. “I’m glad my head is orange, Darwin. If it weren’t, I wouldn’t have thought to wear this hat to school.”

  “The bus is here!” yelled Mrs. Watterson. Gumball and Darwin hurried toward the door. “Good luck!” she called after them.

  "I don’t need luck,” said Gumball, striding out the door. "I've got a hat!” He clapped Darwin on his back. “Nothing can go wrong when you’re wearing a hat.”

  Gumball strutted up the sidewalk leading into the school playground. “Hey, guys!” he shouted. He waved to his friends at the end of the asphalt basketball court. They pointed and giggled. “They’re laughing because of my awesome hat,” Gumball told Darwin. “A hat makes everyone happy.”

  “Or maybe they’re laughing because you're still wearing your pajamas,” Darwin pointed out.

  Gumball looked at his light-green pj’s, dotted with images of panda bears. “I knew I forgot to do something this morning!” he moaned. Gumball waved his hand as if dismissing the problem. “No matter. I’ve got my hat, and that’s all that counts.”

  As Gumball walked up to his friends, he tipped his fedora. “Hello, gents.”

  Carmen cleared her throat. Her cactus thorns bristled.

  “Sorry,” said Gumball. “Hey, gents . . . and lady.” He bowed to Carmen.

  “How was your summer?” asked Alan. The teal-colored balloon floated next to Gumball. Everyone liked Ala
n.

  “You’ve inflated quite a bit since last year,” said Darwin.

  “Thanks for noticing!” said Alan. His happy grin blew wider.

  “Hi, Alan,” said Carmen, batting her eyes shyly. Alan threw her an even bigger smile.

  “What’s with the hat?” Banana Joe asked Gumball. “Look, I’ve got a hat, too!” He grabbed Alan’s string and looped it around his head. “You can call me Bandanna Joe! Get it?” Banana Joe laughed loudly, his voice cackling as he rolled around on the ground. Everyone stared at him, but no one else laughed. Especially not Alan.

  “A bandanna is not a hat,” said Gumball coolly.

  “Hi, guys!” said Leslie as he hopped over in his flowerpot. The pink flower waved one of his leafy arms. “My cousin just moved to Elmore. Say hi to Penny!”

  As Penny walked forward, Gumball felt his knees weaken. He began to sweat. He had never seen a girl so beautiful—from her brown peanut-shell body to the pair of antlers sprouting from her head.

  “This is Darwin,” said Leslie.

  “Nice to meet you,” responded Darwin, shaking Penny’s hand. “I’m sure you’ll love it in Elmore.”

  “And this is Gumball,” said Leslie.

  “Mice to neat you,” mumbled Gumball.

  “What?” asked Penny.

  “Spice to tweet you,” said Gumball. “Um, twice to bleat you. No, price to pleat you.” Gumball wanted to crawl under a rock. Better yet, he wanted to crawl under a rock with Penny.

  “I’m excited for school, aren’t you?” Penny asked Gumball. He stared at her, frozen. “I want to try out for cheerleading, and I hear the school has a synchronized-swimming team,” she continued. “Are you in any clubs, Gumball?”

  “Um, splice to eat you,” mumbled Gumball, his eyes glazing over. “Lice to sneak you.”

  Penny giggled, smiled, and her cheeks flushed. The school bell rang, warning the students that classes would begin shortly. “Oh, and I like your hat,” she said before heading toward school.

  A crazy grin spread over Gumball’s face.

  “Are you okay?” asked Darwin.

  “Ice to greet you,” mumbled Gumball, gazing at Penny as she neared the school doors. He jerked his head to the right and then to the left. “Do you hear that?” he asked Darwin. “Music. Heavenly harp music wafting in the breeze.”

  “I don’t hear anything,” Darwin admitted.

  “Do you see that?” Gumball asked, his gaze shifting up and then down. “Fireworks exploding in a million dazzling colors.”

  “I don’t see anything,” said Darwin, peering all around them.

  “But the music and fireworks are everywhere,” said a dazed Gumball.

  Darwin snapped his fingers. “Wait. I’ve got it. You like Penny!”

  Gumball shook his head. He rolled his eyes. “Of course not. I’m in fourth grade. Fourth-graders don’t like girls.”

  Gumball kicked up his heels and glided toward school. “No, I don’t like Penny at all,” he muttered as angelic harp music and dazzling fireworks filled his eyes and ears.

  Gumball floated down the school hallway, past the rows of green lockers, and landed gently between Penny and Mr. Nigel Brown. The assistant elementary school principal glared at Gumball. The brown fur that covered his slug-like body stood on end. “We do not wear hats in school!”

  Gumball grabbed on to the brim. “But it’s a fedora, and it looks awesome.”

  "Off with the hat!” declared Mr. Brown, keeping his fuzzy finger extended toward Gumball’s covered noggin.

  “Mr. Brown wants to be head principal of Elmore Junior High School someday,” Darwin whispered to Gumball. “So he’s extra strict.”

  Penny watched Gumball. So did Assistant Principal Brown. Gumball clutched his hat and whispered into Mr. Brown’s ear. “Can you make an exception, just this once? Penny’s watching me, and my head is coated in cheese powder.”

  Assistant Principal Brown’s fuzzy finger continued pointing. “Off!”

  Gumball slowly, reluctantly, slid the hat from his head. Through gritted teeth he forced a phony laugh and said, “Why, look. My head is orange.”

  “Are those Cheezy-Bites crumbs?” asked Penny, peering closer.

  “Of course not!” scoffed Gumball. “Cheezy-Bites crumbs! Darwin, have you ever heard anything so ridiculous?” He forced another fake laugh.

  “But they are Cheezy-Bites crumbs,” said Darwin.

  Gumball grinned wider and shook his head. He couldn’t admit to falling asleep in a bowl of crackers—not to Penny. It was embarrassing. “What Darwin means is . . . ,” began Gumball, thinking quickly, “is that my head appears to be Cheezy-Bites-crumb-covered, but it’s not.” Gumball threw Darwin an exaggerated wink. “Right, Darwin?” He winked three more times. “Right?”

  “Is something wrong with your eye?” asked Darwin. “Do you have Cheezy-Bites powder in it?”

  Gumball growled at Darwin. “Of course not! Why did you tell Penny that I’m covered in Cheezy-Bites powder?” he said in a panicked voice.

  “Because it was the truth?” Darwin guessed. “Hey! I knew it. You do like Penny.”

  “No, I don’t,” Gumball insisted, crossing his arms and frowning. “I just don’t want her to know these are cracker crumbs covering my head. You could have told her they were a cool tattoo, or a birthmark, or that some sort of weird fungus was growing on me. She’ll never like me now!” Gumball buried his head in his hands. A lone sob escaped from his throat before he looked up and said softly, “Not that I care if she likes me.”

  Darwin scratched his head. “I think Penny would like you less if she thought head fungus grew on you.”

  “You don’t know girls like I do,” explained Gumball. He paused, looked up, and cocked his ears. “Are you sure you don’t hear harp music playing, Darwin?”

  “No. But it’s okay if you like Penny. I won’t tell anyone.”

  “I don’t like Penny!” Gumball screamed, stomping up and down.

  “You do know she is still standing right next to us, right?”

  Penny smiled at them. Gumball’s blue-and-orange head turned bright red.

  “I guess I’ll see you around, Gumball,” Penny said. As she made her way down the hall, she called over her shoulder, “And I hear music, too.”

  “Splmn ghrg,” responded Gumball.

  He opened his mouth and his tongue rolled out, tied into a thick knot. Gumball yanked the end and undid the tongue tangle.

  “You do like Penny!” said Darwin. “Harp music. Fireworks. Your tongue being tied. Those are all signs of true love.”

  “Of course I don’t like Pennblggb,” Gumball said, gulping. “Phxxtzz.”

  Darwin helped Gumball untie his tongue. It was a particularly tight knot.

  The bell rang and Gumball walked out the school doors with Darwin. He didn’t remember anything their teacher said in class. He couldn’t pay attention. He kept staring at Penny and imagining them holding hands while strolling along a beach, or picking daisies in a breezy meadow against a romantic sunset.

  Not that Gumball liked her or anything.

  As they walked across the school lawn, Gumball froze. Penny was straight ahead! He had avoided talking to her all day. What would he say? He didn’t want to mumble nonsensical words again.

  There was no way to avoid her now.

  Gumball grabbed his throat and gurgled, “Help, choking . . . ,” and fell down.

  Darwin knelt beside him. “Gumball, are you okay?”

  “I’m pretending to be dead so Penny won’t talk to me.”

  “But you can’t pretend forever. She’ll see you in school tomorrow and know you aren’t dead.”

  “Not if I’m only mostly dead.”

  Penny approached and Gumball stared at her. His heart beat so quickly, he was sure Penny would h
ear it.

  “Are you all right?” Penny asked Gumball.

  Gumball closed his eyes and didn’t answer.

  “He’s dead,” said Darwin.

  “Then why were his eyes just open?” she asked, scratching her head.

  “Well, he’s only mostly dead, but not completely,” Darwin explained.

  “Shouldn’t we call an ambulance?”

  “No, he’ll be fine,” Darwin assured her.

  Penny nudged Gumball’s shoulder with her foot, but Gumball didn’t move. "Are you sure he's okay?"

  Darwin nodded.

  Penny continued scratching her head. “Well, if you say so.” She nudged Gumball’s shoulder with her foot again, but Gumball still didn’t move. “I hope you feel better, Gumball. I’ll see you later.”

  “Bye,” said Gumball. “I think you’re wonderful.”

  “Gumball?” Penny looked down, surprised. Gumball shut his mouth and continued playing dead. “Are you alive?”

  “Mostly not,” he squeaked.

  “Well, okay, I guess,” said Penny, looking confused and staring at Gumball. Finally, she shrugged and left.

  A few moments later, Gumball sat straight up. “That was close!” he exclaimed to Darwin. “But I think I fooled her.”

  “Sure you did,” Darwin said with a loud sigh.

  That afternoon, Gumball had managed to scrub off the cheese powder with sandpaper and five scouring pads. His head was red and raw.

  He sat at the kitchen table between Darwin and his mother. Anais, Gumball’s baby sister, drooled on her high chair. Across the table, Dad burped.

  “There’s nothing like sausage after a hard day at work!” declared Mr. Watterson, waving his extra-large helping of sausage-on-a-stick. He opened his mouth, swallowed the sausage in one tremendous gulp, and then tossed the stick onto his plate. He rubbed his stomach in pleasure.

  Mrs. Watterson kissed her husband on the cheek. “Your father was just named employee of the week again.”