Ukulele Hayley

by Judy Cox

  Ukulele Hayley

  by Judy Cox

  illustrated by

  Amanda Haley

  Holiday House / New York

  Text copyright © 2013 by Judy Cox

  Illustrations copyright © 2013 by Amanda Haley

  All Rights Reserved

  HOLIDAY HOUSE is registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office

  www.holidayhouse.com

  ISBN 978-0-8234-2998-1 (ebook)w

  ISBN 978-0-8234-2999-8 (ebook)r

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Cox, Judy.

  Ukulele Hayley / by Judy Cox ; illustrated by Amanda Haley. — First edition.

  pages cm

  Summary: To save the ukulele band, third-grader Hayley and her classmates protest the school board’s decision to cut funding for the music program. Includes tips on how to play the ukulele.

  ISBN 978-0-8234-2863-2 (hardcover)

  [1. Ukulele—Fiction. 2. Music—Fiction. 3. Schools—Fiction.] I. Haley, Amanda, illustrator. II. Title.

  PZ7.C83835Uk 2013

  [Fic]—dc23

  2012045825

  To Tim, who has played an instrumental role in my life.

  Also by Judy Cox

  Butterfly Buddies

  Carmen Learns English

  Cinco de Mouse-O!

  Go to Sleep, Groundhog!

  Haunted House, Haunted Mouse

  My Family Plays Music

  Nora and the Texas Terror

  One Is a Feast for Mouse

  Puppy Power

  The Secret Chicken Society

  Snow Day for Mouse

  That Crazy Eddie and

  the Science Project of Doom

  CONTENTS

  1.Hidden Talent?

  2.Go-Away-Hayley

  3.Yard Sale Saturday

  4.Ruby and Her Ragtime Rascals

  5.On Top of Spaghetti

  6.Easier Said Than Done

  7.Talent Show

  8.You Can’t Tuna Fish

  9.BUGs

  10.Wipeout

  11.Bad News

  12.A Brilliant Plan?

  13.Don’t Stop the Music

  14.Ukulele Hayley and Her BUGs

  Hayley’s Tips on How to Play the Ukulele

  Hidden Talent?

  On the first day of school, Hayley trailed the line of third graders down the hallway. Around the corner. Through the double doors. On their way to music.

  “Shrimp!” whispered Skeeter.

  Hayley made a face. She hated that nickname. Why did Mrs. McCann have to line them up by size? It isn’t fair, thought Hayley. All summer she had done everything she could to grow. She had eaten second helpings. She had played soccer. She had done exercises. Last night Mom had measured her, and she’d grown an inch and a half!

  But when the third graders lined up, Hayley saw the other kids had grown too. They towered over her. Even Skeeter had grown.

  Skeeter had been Hayley’s friend since kindergarten. His real name was Scott, but everyone called him Skeeter. Hayley thought it was perfect. For as long as she could remember, Skeeter had been hanging around. Bugging her, just like a mosquito.

  “You’re the runt, now,” Skeeter pointed out.

  I’m only one inch shorter than you, she thought. But she couldn’t seem to get the words out. Too shy. Again.

  At first Hayley and Skeeter had been the same height—the shortest kids in kindergarten, first, and even second grades. But this summer, when she went to the amusement park with Skeeter and his family, Hayley noticed a change.

  Everyone wanted to ride the Monster Masher, but the sign read, “You must be this tall to ride.” Hayley missed it by half an inch. Skeeter made it by half an inch.

  He laughed as he boarded the ride. “Shrimp!” he teased. Served him right that he had thrown up afterward!

  Hayley was still thinking about that as the line of third graders snaked down the hall past Ms. Lyons, the school principal. Hayley knew Ms. Lyons, but the man standing next to her was a stranger.

  Unlike most teachers, he wore a suit and a tie. He carried a shiny briefcase. His gray eyes were cold behind his horn-rimmed glasses, but it was his frown that made Hayley shiver.

  “That’s Mr. Penwick,” murmured Hayley’s best friend, Olivia. “He’s on the school board. My mother sold him a house.” Mrs. Watson was a real estate agent. She knew practically everyone in town.

  The man was talking to Ms. Lyons in a loud voice. “We’ve got to save money!” he boomed. “I’ll bet the kids won’t even notice the cutbacks.”

  The third graders tiptoed past the principal. Ms. Lyons nodded at them approvingly. But as soon as they rounded the corner, Hayley tugged on Olivia’s sleeve. “Cutbacks? What cutbacks? What’s Mr. Penwick mean?” she whispered.

  “No field trips.” Olivia shook her head sadly.

  “No art classes,” said Skeeter. “No soccer team. PE only once a week.”

  “They can’t do that!” said Hayley.

  “Mr. Penwick can,” said Olivia. “And—to save electricity—he made us have three weeks of winter break instead of two!”

  “Well, that’s a good thing!” said Skeeter.

  They stopped talking when they reached the music room. Something was different! There were the usual rows of chairs. The same old music stands. The same old posters on the walls. But instead of Mrs. Smith, the old music teacher, someone new stood in front of the classroom. A tall African American man in a bright red vest and a yellow bow tie. He smiled broadly at the kids.

  “Good morning!” he said. “I’m your new music teacher. My name is Mr. Yaeger. But you can call me Mr. Y.”

  “Why not?” yelled Skeeter, flopping down into one of the chairs. He laughed at his own joke.

  With his shaved head, goatee, and earring, Mr. Y was a big change from Mrs. Beatrice Smith. Mrs. Smith had been the Bridgewater music teacher ever since Hayley was in kindergarten. Mrs. Smith had played an ancient record player. She had sung in a high, quavery voice. All the kids had loved her. Well, most of the kids. Make that some of the kids. She retired last spring. Hayley had eaten cupcakes at her retirement party.

  Now, Mr. Y was in charge of the music room.

  Mr. Y was still talking. Hayley stopped daydreaming and focused. Just like Dad always told her: “Focus, Hayley. Pay attention.”

  “Talent show,” Mr. Y continued. “Anyone can sign up. The show will be December fifth. I’m telling you now, even though it’s only September, so you’ll have time to prepare.”

  A talent show! Mrs. Smith had never done anything cool like that!

  “I’ll help anyone polish up his or her act,” Mr. Yaeger added. “Just let me know.”

  “I can juggle!” shouted Robin.

  “Michelle and I can do double Dutch jump rope!” said Zelda. Michelle nodded.

  “How about skateboard stunts?” called Skeeter.

  “Sorry, no skateboards. We don’t have room on the stage to perform stunts safely,” said Mr. Y.

  “Rats!”

  “You can do a solo act or work in groups. You can act out skits. You can sing, dance, or play an instrument.”

  “I do stand-up comedy,” said Devon.

  “As long as it’s clean!” said Mr. Y. “This is a family show!” Everyone laughed.

  Lupe didn’t say anything. But then, she never did. She came from Mexico. She’d said “buenos días” to Mrs. McCann and had not said anything since.

  When music was over, the class lined up. Mr. Y didn’t make them line up by height. But Hayley got at the end anyway. She pulled Olivia into line in front of her.

  “I’m going to dance for my talent,” said Olivia. “Ballet.” She twirled gracefully around on her tiptoes. She’d been adopt
ed from China when she was a baby. She went to Chinese Culture Club every Thursday in addition to ballet.

  Skeeter slid in front of them. “I’ll bet I can burp ‘The Star-Spangled Banner,’ ” he said. He belched loudly just to practice.

  “I’m going to sign up too!” said Hayley.

  “But Hayley, you don’t have any talent,” Skeeter pointed out. “You can’t sing on key. You flunked out of ballet. Your jokes stink. And you can’t juggle,” he added.

  “That’s mean!” said Olivia.

  Skeeter raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Whaaat? What’d I say?” he asked.

  Hayley knew Skeeter didn’t intend to be mean. But his wisecracks still stung. Was Skeeter right? Was she a no-talent shrimp? She picked at a scab on her elbow. “I must have some talent,” she said at last. “Mr. Y says everyone does. Maybe I just need to find mine!”

  Hidden talent. Hayley thought about that as she followed the line back to the third grade room. Maybe her talent was like treasure in a pirate chest. Waiting to be discovered. But what could that talent be?

  Go-Away-Hayley

  All weekend Hayley tried to discover her hidden talent. Ventriloquist? No. Tightrope walker? No again.

  Stilt walker! That was it!

  Definitely not stilt walker, she thought later, putting an ice pack on her bruised knee.

  She could hang a spoon from her nose. Her family thought it was hilarious. It brought down the house every Thanksgiving. But it wouldn’t be a good act for a talent show.

  Maybe she was an animal trainer! Hayley had two hamster sisters that lived in a glass tank in her room. Mango and Tango. They had apricot-colored fur. They were round and furry and warm. They munched on carrot sticks and kibbles. But they could not seem to learn any tricks.

  “Mango,” said Hayley, tapping on the glass. “Are you listening?” Mango stopped nibbling her kibbles.

  “When I blow the whistle, jump through the hoop.” Hayley had made a hoop out of chenille stems. She blew the whistle, but Mango just sat there. Hayley sighed. Tango wasn’t any better. Clearly, Hayley wasn’t a star animal trainer.

  “Looky!” A shout came from the hall. Hayley’s little sister, Tilly, burst in. She wore pink footie pajamas. A red cape. A purple eye mask.

  “Super Tilly!” she yelled, scrambling up Hayley’s unmade bed. She waved her arms around like a windmill. “Sissy! Catch!” She jumped into Hayley’s waiting arms.

  Tilly grabbed for the whistle that hung around Hayley’s neck. “Let me!” she demanded. Hayley gave Tilly the whistle. She’d never tell Tilly she was too little. Almost never. Well, maybe sometimes.

  Hayley had not forgotten what it felt like to be too little to play.

  Hayley had an older brother, Sam. And an older sister, Jennifer. They were away at college now. When Hayley was as little as Tilly, she wanted to do everything they did. Just like Tilly now.

  “Let me!” she’d plead when Jennifer practiced tennis.

  “Let me!” she’d yell when Sam practiced backing up the car.

  But the answer was always the same. “Go away, Hayley. You’re too little.”

  She missed her brother and sister. But she didn’t miss their snubs!

  So Hayley let Tilly blow the whistle until she got bored. Then Hayley wiped it off on her T-shirt and hid it in her pocket.

  “I’m hungry,” said Tilly. She raced down the hall to the kitchen. Hayley followed.

  “Mom?” she called. “Can Tilly have a cookie? Can I?”

  “Okay, hon, but just one.” Mom poked her head around the corner. She was still in her scrubs from work. She dropped a kiss on the top of Hayley’s head. “Daddy’s making shrimp lo mein for dinner.”

  That word shrimp again! Don’t remind me! thought Hayley.

  Shrimp wasn’t a funny nickname. Not funny at all. It hadn’t been so bad when Skeeter and Hayley were both the shortest in the class and teased each other. But now that Skeeter was taller, it wasn’t funny anymore. Even worse, other kids were starting to use it too. At recess yesterday, when she’d asked to join the basketball game, one of the kids had said, “If we need a garden gnome, we’ll give you a call, shrimp.” Now that was just plain mean.

  But shrimp lo mein had nothing to do with rude nicknames. Shrimp lo mein was Chinese food. That sounded good. Ever since Dad got laid off from his construction job, he’d been cooking new dishes. It was part of his homework. He was going to school at the community college, in the culinary arts program. Hayley knew that was a fancy way of saying cooking school. Someday he’d be a chef, maybe, or run a restaurant. But for now he practiced at home. At least his homework was tasty. Most of the time. Make that some of the time.

  Hayley looked in the cookie jar for Dad’s cowboy cookies. All gone. Rats. She spotted a box of animal crackers on the top shelf. Just out of reach. She pulled a chair over and climbed up on the counter. She stretched out her hand for the box.

  “I hope you aren’t climbing on the counter!” Mom’s voice floated down the hall.

  Hayley grabbed the box and quickly scrambled down. “No, Mom,” she said, feeling only slightly guilty. Well, she wasn’t climbing now.

  “Mmmm,” said Tilly, munching happily. Crumbs spilled from her mouth and dusted her pj’s.

  Hayley finished her crackers and wandered down the hall to the big kids’ rooms. She looked at Sam’s shelf of trophies: football, marching band, basketball, baseball, science club.

  She looked at Jennifer’s wall of blue ribbons: horseback riding, tennis, homecoming queen, valedictorian. Her heart swelled with pride. They were talented, all right. Shining stars. Compared to them, Hayley sometimes felt invisible.

  Behind her, Tilly raced down the hall in her cape, pretending to fly. Mom came out of the laundry room.

  “Isn’t she adorable?” said Mom. She scooped Tilly up in a hug. “Cute as a bug!”

  Jennifer and Sam were bright, shining stars. And Tilly was as cute as a bug. Where does that leave me?

  Yard Sale Saturday

  “Who wants to go to a yard sale?” called Dad.

  It was the last Saturday in September. The sky was blue, with just a few puffy clouds. The sun shone. T-shirt weather. The kind of day anything could happen.

  “I do!” yelled Hayley.

  “Me too! Me too!” yelled Tilly.

  Copycat, thought Hayley, as she sprinted upstairs to find her piggy bank.

  Hayley found her pink china pig under a pile of dirty clothes. She unplugged the rubber stopper on the bottom of the pig and shook out the coins. She pried out the wadded-up dollar bills with her pinky. Four dollars. Eleven cents. Earned by picking up pop cans from the side of the road. Hoarded for weeks. That didn’t seem like much. Would it be enough for something good?

  Her family waited in the garage. Dad ruffled Hayley’s wild curls. “Nothing I like better than a day out with my redheads!” he said. Hayley’s hair glowed copper, like Mom’s and Tilly’s.

  “You’re just jealous!” said Hayley, strapping on her bike helmet. She knew Dad didn’t mind her teasing him about the bald spot he covered with a baseball cap.

  “Someday, I’ll cover it with a chef’s toque!” Dad replied.

  “If you find something you like, don’t forget to bargain,” reminded Mom as they climbed on their bikes.

  Hayley loved yard sales. Once she had bought a box of colored chalk for a dime. She and Olivia had drawn pictures all over the sidewalk in front of her house. The picture had stayed there until it rained.

  Another time she’d bought an old red wagon for two dollars. Never mind that it only had three wheels. She had hauled it up to her room and propped it up on a brick. Now it held her stuffed animals. But she didn’t like to bargain. It was hard to get over her shyness enough to ask for a lower price.

  Hayley pressed down on the pedals. Dad took the lead, with Tilly strapped in the bike trailer behind him. Hayley followed, and Mom brought up the end.

  “I’m the cow’s tail!” Mom called, wavin
g. Mom was a vet tech at the veterinarian’s office. Dad said he was the bread baker, but Mom was the bread winner.

  They rode down the block. Dad signaled for a left turn. They all glided around the corner. The yard sale was about two miles from the house. Hayley’s face was hot by the time they got there. She took off her helmet and ran her hands through her sweaty hair. It had to be the hottest day of the whole fall.

  The yard sale beckoned like Aladdin’s cave. Hidden treasures! Mounds of clothes. Heaps of toys. Boxes of books.

  Mom headed for the toddler clothes. Dad headed for the kitchen items. Tilly headed for an old potty chair. “Not that!” said Dad, scooping her up just in time.

  Hayley spotted an old TV in the corner. Cool! She looked at the price. Fifty dollars. Too much. Not even bargaining could make that work!

  A large woman in a bright orange muumuu came over. “Help you find something?” she asked. Her brown hair was in a bun. She wore a pair of glittery glasses shoved up on the top of her hair.

  Hayley shook her head. “Just looking.” She dug through the boxes, piles, and bins but came up empty-handed.

  “I found three pairs of pants in Tilly’s size!” said Mom. “Hayley, come here a minute.” Mom held up a pair of jeans, matching them to Hayley’s waist. They were really cute, with embroidered butterflies on the pockets. “Nearly new!” said Mom happily, adding them to her pile.

  “Look at this!” said Dad. He held up a big soup kettle. “Copper bottom. They don’t make ’em like this anymore!” He added a wooden soup spoon and a lid.

  Even Tilly found something. She held up a stuffed pink rabbit with one blue eye. “Bun-Bun!” she declared happily.

  “Time to go,” said Dad. “I have to get home and start my homework. I’m making lengua de res!”

  “What’s that?” asked Hayley.

  “Beef tongue,” said Mom. She folded the jeans and put them into the trailer.

  “Ick!” said Hayley.

  “You’ll like it,” Dad promised. He loaded Tilly into the trailer and handed her the soup kettle.