1. Pretending to be the elevator operator.
2. Doing headstands in the lobby.
3. Filming horror movies in the staircase.
4. Entering the gym. At all. Who knew ten-pound weights were so heavy? Who knew a running machine could go so fast?
But I was not banned from collecting signatures near the mailboxes.
While Dad was busy working on the elevator, I went into his little office and dragged out a tiny card table, which I put by the mailboxes. Then I dragged out a folding chair. I put the petition on the table, next to a sign that said:
HELP A KID!
TAKE A DOUGHNUT!
Then I put out the box of powdered mini doughnuts Dad had brought home the day before. He always says that powdered doughnuts are his kryptonite. He cannot resist their tempting tastiness. You can always tell when he’s eaten one because the white powder gets on his brown mustache.
Maybe it was the doughnuts or maybe it was my charm, but either way, after just one hour, our petition had ninety-five signatures. I was starting to run low on doughnuts when Ezra and his mom, Principal Powell, passed by. They live in the Monroe, so I had been expecting them.
Ezra is Jude’s best friend. Sometimes I tell people he is my best friend, too, but Jude gets angry and jealous and tells me to knock it off. He says that Ezra only hangs out with me because I’m Jude’s little sister and he has to. But I know that’s not true.
Ezra and I have lots in common. I love to sing, and Ezra loves to record music. He has been recording my demo album called One Tough Cookie on his computer. I already have two and a half songs finished. Sometimes Minnie plays the piano while I sing, but if she doesn’t, it’s okay because Ezra can make music on his computer. He can make it sound like there’s a whole band playing for me.
One day, when I’m older, I will walk down the red carpet and win a big music award, and Ezra is going to be the first person I thank in my acceptance speech. Do you know who I will not thank? People who always doubted me. People named Jude B. Conti.
You know what else Ezra and I have in common? Our love of powdered mini doughnuts.
I handed him and his mom doughnuts as I told them all about our 100 Days project and how I was dying to win the trophy.
“Veronica, this is a fantastic project,” said Principal Powell as Ezra signed his name. “Whether or not you get a trophy, you’ve done excellent work. And that’s really what matters, isn’t it?”
She said it like she was warning me not to get my hopes up … which made me feel a little disappointed.
“Yeah, Ronny, trophies are overrated—trust me,” said Ezra. He knows because he has a bunch of them, for his super-cool robotics creations. He should have a trophy for speed talking because he is the fastest talker I’ve ever heard in all my life. “Most of the time, the trophies you win are flimsy and they break. Especially if you have a crazy kitten that knocks them over when he runs back and forth on your shelves like a lunatic.”
Just then something started beeping, and Ezra looked down at his watch. Ezra’s watch looks like it could belong to James Bond. It glows in the dark and has a timer on it, and you can wear it underwater. Plus, it beeps!
“Ez,” I said. “Your watch is trying to tell you something.”
“Oh, it’s just a reminder. I programmed it to remind me when I’m supposed to do something because otherwise I’d totally forget.” Ezra cracked his knuckles. He has a habit of doing this, and I have told him and told him not to because Nana says it’s bad for you, but he never listens.
“That beep is reminding me I have to finish my social studies project,” he said. “So I’d better go.”
They walked away, and I was admiring all the beautiful signatures on my petition when I heard a grumpy voice. It grumbled, “Young lady, you know perfectly well that loitering is not permitted by the mailboxes.”
I didn’t have to look up to know it was Mr. Luntzgarten, who lives on the fourth floor. He is the only person anywhere who calls me “young lady.”
“I’m not littering!” I protested. “I don’t even have any garbage.”
“I didn’t say littering,” he replied with a scowl. When he scowls, his humongous gray eyebrows get scrunched together. It makes them look like one big eyebrow, which is even creepier than normal. “Loitering. Hanging around without an official purpose. Don’t they teach vocabulary in school anymore?”
He leaned over my table and peered at the petition. I got a close-up look at the hat he always wears, which is brown and checkered and very old-fashioned. It’s the kind of hat people wear in the black-and-white movies that Ezra likes.
All of a sudden, Mr. Luntzgarten stood up straight. His enormous eyebrows were not in their scrunched-up-and-mad position. Instead, they were raised up in their surprised-and-very-curious position.
“I see Miss Tibbs signed your list,” he said.
I had totally forgotten that I introduced Miss Tibbs and Mr. Luntzgarten. We were at a party at Ezra’s house, and they both got very excited about fruitcake, which is how I knew they would be a match made in heaven.
“Oh yes,” I replied. “Miss Tibbs is a big fan of our petition.”
Mr. Luntzgarten was quiet for a second, like he was thinking about something. Then he picked up the pen and signed his name. After his name, he wrote his phone number.
“Just in case you need to contact me … to, uh … to follow up.” His cheeks got red. “I’ve signed many petitions. It’s standard.”
I was so grateful and surprised that Mr. Luntzgarten signed the petition. I grabbed the last mini doughnut in the box and jumped up to hand it to him. But when I jumped up, I accidentally knocked over the card table. The petition and pencils flew up in the air. So did the powdered doughnut box … and all the white powder at the bottom. It puffed up in the air like a big snow cloud and landed oh-so-gently all over Mr. Luntzgarten’s black coat.
The bad news: Now there is a fifth thing I am banned from doing at the Monroe.
The good news: I had ninety-eight signatures on our petition!
Chapter 8
On Monday morning, I was so excited to show my 100 Days group that the petition was almost full. I did a little dance to the jazz music Miss Mabel was playing very softly from her desk.
“Ta-DA!” I cried. “Ninety-eight signatures!”
“How’d you get all those?” asked Minnie.
“I guess I just have a way with words.” I grinned from ear to ear.
I turned to Matt. “So you only need to get two signatures. You can handle that, can’t you?”
Matt rolled his hazel eyes.
“Yes, I think I can handle that,” he said very sarcastically.
And I believed him. After all, anyone could have gotten two signatures. I could have gotten two signatures on a totally deserted island, for crying out loud!
But I was wrong.
The next day, on Tuesday, we got into our 100 Days groups—well, all of us except Minnie. She had to leave school early to get ready for her big recital. Miss Mabel walked over to our group and asked to see our project so far. That’s when Matt told us there was a problem.
“Just a little one,” he said.
But there is no such thing as a little problem when you’re dealing with Matthew Sawyer.
“You didn’t get the signatures! I knew it!” I exclaimed.
“Of course I got the signatures!” Matt replied. “The petition is all done! The problem is … well, I, uh…” He started rubbing the back of his head.
“Oh no!” I cried. “You forgot it at home!”
Matt stared down at the floor, but this time, it wasn’t because he was looking for water bugs. It was because he was about to cry. I could tell because his face was red and his eyes were all wet. I had never seen Matthew Sawyer cry before, and even though he was my enemy, I felt really bad for him.
“It’s okay, Matt,” said Miss Mabel. She put her hand on his shoulder.
“I’m really sorry,” he said to
her, with a quivery voice. “I don’t know how I forgot it this morning. I was reading this really good book about parasites, and I was so into it, I guess the project just slipped my mind.”
“It’s all right!” chirped Cora. “Everyone makes mistakes!”
“Yeah, but I make mistakes all the time,” Matt said. His voice was so soft I could hardly hear him. “I don’t mean to. My mom says I just get distracted.”
I was surprised to see Matt look so miserable. I had no idea he felt so bad when he forgot stuff. He always made jokes, which made me think he didn’t care. I felt sorry for giving him a hard time about his mistakes, and I just really wanted to make him feel better.
“Are you using that checklist I made for you? To help you remember what to bring from home?” asked Miss Mabel.
“I would use it,” he said, sniffing, “except I can’t find it.”
“Well, I think you need a new checklist,” she said. “Is there someone who can help you make another one?”
Matt wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He shrugged.
That’s when I got a huge brain wave! I gasped loudly. Gasping is a specialty of mine.
“I know someone who can help!” I cried. “My brother, Jude! He writes lists in his sleep. Seriously. He has dreams of the lists he wants to make.”
“Is he the fourth grader that keeps reorganizing the Lost and Found box?” Miss Mabel asked.
I nodded.
“He does seem like the perfect guy for the job,” she said.
Matt did not look so convinced, but Miss Mabel told him that his homework that night was to make a good, solid checklist with Jude. So he had no choice.
“This is perfect!” I said after Miss Mabel left. “Ezra is coming over after school, and Cora, too. So we can have a whole Fix-It Friends meeting to help you.”
I thought Matt would be very happy and oh-so-thankful. He was not.
“I’m not broken.” Matt scowled. “I don’t need to be fixed.”
“We don’t fix people!” said Cora. “Just problems that people have.”
“Like how you get distracted and forget stuff,” I said.
“You’re right,” he said. “I have a huge forgetting problem. So I wouldn’t be surprised if I forgot to come to your house after school.”
I sighed really loudly. Matt was already back to driving me bonkers.
“If you let the Fix-Its help you, I promise that I will never stomp on a water bug again.”
“Never?” he asked.
“Well, at least not for the rest of second grade.”
He thought about it for a second.
“And do you promise never to tell that offensive joke again?” he asked.
“Oh, for crying out loud!” I exclaimed. “It’s not offensive!”
“What joke is it?” asked Cora.
“What lies dead on its back, one hundred feet up in the air?” I asked.
“I give up,” said Cora.
“A centipede!”
Cora and I giggled, but Matt crossed his arms and glowered at us.
“It’s offensive to centipedes,” he said.
“Okay, okay,” I said. “I’ll stop telling the joke. So will you come over?”
“Fine,” he grumbled. “But I hope your brother is not as annoying as you.”
That made me laugh so hard, I couldn’t breathe.
“Oh, just you wait,” I told him.
Chapter 9
As soon as we got to my house after school, I made a hot and tasty winter drink for everyone. It’s called a Bop Shoo Bop. Here’s how you make it:
1. Put a cup of milk in the microwave for 45 seconds.
2. Add a packet of instant hot chocolate.
3. Add in three shakes of cinnamon.
4. Plop on five mini marshmallows.
5. Stick a cherry on top.
There’s only one thing better than a cherry on top, and that’s two cherries on top.
Pearl sat right next to Matt at our kitchen table. She is oh-so-curious about people she has never met before. She stared at him as she hugged Ricardo and sipped her drink. Then, suddenly, she pulled on the sleeve of Matt’s striped shirt and said, “I’m so big! I go potty! I go AWW the time!”
I thought he’d snicker or say something dumb. But to my surprise, he turned to her with a big, bright smile and exclaimed, “You do? Wow! That’s so cool! You really are big!”
Then he asked her what her rat’s name was, and she said, “Wicawdo. He’s fwiendly.”
“Yeah, rats get a bad rap, but they are usually really friendly,” he said. “You know, they get blamed for starting the bubonic plague. But it wasn’t the rats that did it. You know who did it?”
Pearl was looking at him with wide eyes. “Who?”
“Gerbils!” he said. “So they’re the bad ones. Not rats!”
“Bad gewbiws!” she said, making her mad face.
I gave Cora a look that said, Can you believe this? Because never in a million years would I have guessed that Matthew Sawyer would be so nice to my baby sister!
When we’d gulped down every drop of our Bop Shoo Bops, Cora, Matt, and I went to find Jude and Ezra.
They were hunched over Jude’s neat and tidy desk. Their foreheads were wrinkled like they were concentrating hard.
“Ninety-three, ninety-four,” Jude counted.
“Hey there!” I exclaimed. “What’s cooking?”
Jude groaned. “You messed up our count!” he hollered. “Now we have to start all over again!”
“It’s okay,” said Ezra. “I think we messed up that count, anyway.”
I wished for the ten thousandth time that Ezra could live with us instead of Jude. He never yells at me for being a slob, and he laughs at all my jokes. He also has an adorable kitten. He would be the perfect roommate.
“What are you doing for your 100 Days project?” I asked Ezra.
“We’re writing a story with one hundred sentences,” Ezra said speedily. “And for the illustration, we are making a drawing with exactly one hundred pencil strokes.”
“That is very cool,” I said, “but I think you might want to add a tad more razzle-dazzle.”
“Razzle-dazzle?” Jude snorted. “You don’t need razzle-dazzle when you have a great idea.”
“Hey, you know, a little bling might not be the worst idea,” said Ezra. “Just to jazz up the presentation.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Just to jazz it up. Give it pizzazz.”
I love words with z’s in them, and words with double z’s are even better.
“We don’t need jazz or pizzazz, and we definitely don’t need razzle-dazzle,” Jude said.
“Suit yourself.” I shrugged. “Listen, we need to have a Fix-It Friends meeting, for Matt.”
“Maybe later,” said Jude, looking down at his project. “We’re in the middle of something.”
“Not later,” I insisted. “It has to be ASAP! Pronto! Without delay! Matt’s here just for that reason, and plus Miss Mabel told us to.”
“You can’t just order everyone around all the time,” grumbled Jude. “You’re not the boss of the world.”
“That’s what I tell her!” said Matt.
“So buzz off,” Jude said, and he waved me away, like a mosquito.
Then Cora said the magic word. “We need to make a list!” she said quickly. “Can you help us?”
That got his attention, all right. He looked up at us and started to laugh.
“Can I help you make a list?” he asked. “Can a bird fly? Can a dolphin swim?”
He put his pencil down and leaned back in his chair. “Tell me everything.”
Chapter 10
We told Jude all about how sometimes Matt had trouble paying attention, which meant he sometimes forgot stuff, which meant our 100 Days project was in danger! Jude nodded slowly.
“I’m going to let you in on a little secret,” said Jude. “I know I’m famous around town for never forgetting anything. I know people think
that I’m Mr. Perfect—”
“Don’t forget Mr. Big Head,” I added. Matt started to chuckle, but Jude gave him a dirty look, and he clammed up.
“But the truth is,” Jude continued, “I forget stuff all the time. There’s only one thing I never forget. You know what that is?”
“To pat yourself on the back?” I asked. Matt covered his mouth to squash his laugh.
“The one thing I never forget”—Jude paused to make sure we were really listening—“is to check my lists.”
“Cool,” said Matt.
“Oh, it is more than cool,” corrected Jude. “It’s the key to staying organized! And staying organized is the key to success!! So it’s the key to success!”
“Ummm, okay,” said Matt. I could tell he was regretting coming over. And he thought I was annoying! Ha!
Jude insisted that Matt needed five different lists, but Ezra talked him down to two, which Ezra typed up on his laptop. When Jude gets excited, Ezra is the one person who can talk reason to him.
We made a morning checklist for Matt to keep at home:
MORNING CHECKLIST
1. Homework in folder?
2. Folder in backpack?
3. Lunch box?
4. Special projects?
We also made an afternoon checklist, for Matt to check before he left school:
AFTERNOON CHECKLIST
1. Books for homework?
2. Homework folder?
3. Lunch box?
4. Sneakers?
Matt said he didn’t need to put sneakers on the list, but then I reminded him about how on pajama day, he left his sneakers in the classroom and walked out the door with bare feet.
Dad came in to see what we were doing. When he heard about the lists, he said, “I’m terrible at remembering stuff. You know what I do? I put a Post-it on my desk or the fridge. A big, bright one that I can’t ignore. Then I write ‘Bring chain saw’ or whatever on it.”
Matt gulped loudly. “You really have a chain saw?”
Eyes on the Prize Page 3
