The whole class starts laughing.
The only person not laughing at me is me. Oh, no, I’m not laughing. I’m crackling. Zinging. Everything that sounds like mad, I am that. But I look over to Savannah and say real loud, “That’s okay, Jessie. Accidents happen. I forgive you.” I smile with all my teeth at Savannah. She’s too busy whispering in Amanda’s ear. What is she telling her?
19. CHICKEN TEETH
“I SWEAR ON MY DOG ’S LIFE I didn’t trip you,” Jessie says.
“You don’t even have a dog, Jessie Chavez.”
“If I did, I’d swear on it.”
“If you did, it would probably be a mean old hound dog that tripped other dogs.”
“No way. I’d get a nice dog. A yellow dog.”
We are out in the garden, picking beans. Jessie and I work together. Even though Jessie is a mean ol’ shover-tripper, she is still my partner. After our class fills up our buckets, we get to stop.
“All right, little farmers!” Old Jan McDonald cries. “A wonderful job! Now, do you know what’s next?”
“We’re going to visit the animals!” Ari Shapiro calls.
Jessie shoots up her hand. “I’m not done yet. I don’t think I did it right. I have to start over.”
“That’s enough, Jenny,” Old Jan says sternly. “Now, I don’t like to be Mrs. Tough Guy, but that will be quite enough from your team.”
“Thanks, Jessie,” I hiss.
“I wasn’t trying to get us in trouble.”
After we’ve handed in our beans for Old Jan to bag up so we can take them home, she calls us into a group.
“All right, little farmers, the goats are just dying to meet you!” Old Jan calls out.
I crowd up next to Savannah and Amanda to see the goats.
Everyone gets to feed the goats some special goat food. I tap Savannah on the shoulder. “Would you like my goat food?” I ask her.
But she and Amanda are singing, “Goat goat goat, goat goat goat, goaty all the way. Oh what fun it is to have a stinky goat today!”
Next come the cows. The cows stare at everyone with big brown eyes.
After we’ve given the cows a nice long visit, Old Jan McDonald says, “Now the chickens. Follow me.”
Timo Toivonen and Ari Shapiro lead the way, followed by Amanda and Savannah, who are holding hands and skipping. But not Jessie. She’s squatting on the ground.
“Come on, Jessie,” I say. “Everybody’s going.”
Jessie is staring at an anthill. “Do you think bugs get scared of other bugs?”
“No.”
“Do you think they bite each other?”
I strain my neck. I can just see the class turning down a path.
“Hurry up, Jessie. You’re going to get us lost.” I grab Jessie by the arm. “Get up.”
Jessie’s lips squeeze together.
She stares at the ground. I squat down to get a better look. I don’t see anything. Not even an ant or a beetle. Plop! Water lands in the dirt. I twist my head so I can see what’s going on in Jessie’s face. Two fat tears slide right down her nose. Plop. Plop. And I haven’t even kicked her in the face.
“What’s the matter, Jessie?” I say in a honey-pie voice. “Do your stitches hurt?”
“I don’t want to get bitten by a chicken.”
“I’m sure that chickens don’t bite,” I say to mean old Jessie Chavez, the world’s biggest best-friend stealer.
“How do you know?”
I think about it. “Well, who says they did?”
Jessie wipes her nose on the back of her hand. “My big brother, Dustin.”
“So he’s been on this field trip before?”
“Yep.”
“Well, my brother has, too. And he told me that Mrs. D. would bring chicken poop into our class. And so that’s why I said she had chicken poop in her bag.”
“I thought you were trying to be funny. So Amanda would like you best.”
I open my mouth to say something. Something like “shut your trap.”
“And it’s working,” Jessie says. “’Cause she likes you best.”
“Is that why you’ve been acting up today? So that Amanda will think you’re funny?”
“No.” Jessie kicks a pebble. It’s okay to kick a pebble. “It’s to slow us down from getting to the chickens.”
“Well, now we have to speed up,” I say.
“Lola? I really am sorry for shoving you by the swings.”
“I’m sorry, too,” I say for real.
“I feel bad when you and Amanda talk about how great it was on Cherry Tree Lane.”
“I feel bad and heartsick when you teach Amanda the Hand Jive and won’t teach it to me.”
“That’s ’cause I didn’t want to share Amanda.”
“Now we both have to share her with Savannah,” I say. I’m as sad as Patches when he howls at the moon. “
I’m going to teach you the Hand Jive and will you not hog Amanda all to yourself?”
“Yes,” I say fast, before she bosses the nice out of me.
And I remember what Mrs. D. told me. Showing you’re sorry might be better than just saying you’re sorry. I hold out my hand to Jessie. “Come on,” I say. “Let’s go find our class.”
Jessie and I walk down the dirt path. There are gardens to the left and gardens to the right.
“I’m pretty sure they took a left up here,” I say.
We take a left. No Old Jan.
“Are you sure?” Jessie says.
“Sure, I’m sure,” I say. “Let’s keep walking. Kookamut Farm isn’t that big.”
We keep walking. We pass by a nice little dog behind a fence.
“Here’s a dog for you,” I say.
“Hi, doggy,” Jessie says. She reaches in to pet the dog. The dog jumps up, growling and smiling meanly.
Jessie jumps back, right behind me.
“You bad dog,” I scold through the fence. “Very bad.” I’ve had a lot of practice with Patches. The dog wags his tail at me. “Don’t you wag at me, mister. You say you’re sorry to my friend.”
We keep on walking. Jessie sniffles. “It’s okay, Jessie,” I say. “That dog can’t get you. See? They keep him and all of their animals fenced up.”
“Okay.”
But I’m wrong about that.
’Cause right up ahead is a chicken. A giant brown chicken with a red comb on top.
“L-l-l-l-l-Lola … l-l-l-l-look,” Jessie says. “A wild chicken.”
“That’s a rooster. He won’t hurt you,” I say.
“My brother said …”
“Never mind him.” I hold tight to Jessie’s sweaty hand. “He won’t bother us. We’ll just walk right by.”
Jessie and I are sneaking past the rooster. He turns around and crows loud as a school bell. He flaps his wings and starts to charge Jessie and me.
“Run, Jessie, run!”
But Jessie is stopped like a stop sign and the rooster is flying up and landing, flying up and landing and trying to peck her.
“SHOO, varmint! Git out of here,” I say in a Granny Coogan voice. The rooster must be stone deaf. He keeps flapping and flapping. I grab Jessie’s sweaty hand and pull her away. Finally she starts running. We zip past the dog that barked at us. We zoom past the cows.
The rooster is after us! “Over the fence,” I yell. Jessie and I climb over the fence.
Squelch! Right into the mud.
Way off in the corner a pig comes out of its hut. It squeals.
“Run, Jessie, run!”
We dash across the pig pen, slipping and sliding through the stinky mud.
Jessie trips and grabs me.
BAM!
We both fall down. We get up and jump over another fence, right in front of the chicken coop. Where our class is bunched up. There’s that mean ol’ rooster, sitting on a fence post like he doesn’t have a care in the world. How did he get here before us? He must know a shortcut.
“OH MY!” Old Jan squawks. �
��What in the name of Percy the Pig happened to you two?”
“We got lost,” I say.
“We tried to take a shortcut,” Jessie explains.
Old Jan shakes her head. “Mrs. D. is going to holler up a storm when she sees you. You two need to clean up. Pronto! When you return, you can help us feed the chickens. We just met Friendly, our rooster.”
“You two are REVOLTING,” Gwendolyn Swanson- Carmichael says.
“I want to play in the mud!” Harvey Baxter whines.
“Lola!” Amanda says. She has her arms crossed.
Oh, no! Savannah told her about the photo.
“I didn’t mean to do it. Well, I did mean to do it. But I wish I hadn’t done it!”
“You meant to fall in the mud?” Amanda asks.
I stare at Amanda. I need a quick fib. “Oh, well, I’ve always wanted to roll in the mud.”
Savannah makes zombie arms. “I’m coming to get you, Mud Monster.”
“Does that mean you’re not mad at me anymore?” I ask.
“A little. But not a lot. I know you’re sorry.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
Savannah leans in and whispers, “Because when you finally got to choose first, you picked Jessie, and I know you wanted to pick Amanda.”
I grin at Savannah and whisper back, “She knows lots of good songs, right?”
Savannah wrinkles her nose. “Right.” And, “PEE-YOO! You and Jessie need to take a bath.”
Jessie wipes the mud off her face. So do I.
We look at each other. I feel a little giggle. I let it out. Jessie snickers. I laugh again, a little cackle. Jessie too. We’re holding our sides and laughing so hard, we can’t stop.
On the other side of the fence, the pig squeals.
“You stink,” says Timo Toivonen. “In Finland, we do not roll in mud.”
20. ZZZZZZZ
THURSDAY NIGHT I LIE IN MY bed waiting and waiting to not be awake. The sooner I go to sleep, the sooner I will wake up. And the sooner I wake up, the sooner I will see Mom.
I already got to see Dad, ’cause he was home from Singapore and showing Grandma how to download pictures of Jack and me onto her laptop after school.
He gave me a thousand hugs (even though I had dried mud all over me) and then he gave me a great big box of candy and a slingshot that could put my eye out if I’m not careful. I showed him my Friend-of-a-Farmer badge.
I was really, really glad to see Dad.
But I have to wait even longer to see Mom. ’Cause she gets in past my bedtime. Past an eleven-year-old’s bedtime, too, and that means you, Jack.
Every time I close my eyes, I think about my mom’s face. I think about her blue eyes and the fact that she knows how many kisses to hand out.
Then I think about Kookamut Farm. Someday when I grow up, I might be a farmer. I’ll grow apples and cucumbers and Jack will come and ride the horses. I’ll ride a horse, too. A white one. Or maybe a zebra.
I fall asleep and I dream that Mom is home, sitting on my bed. I can smell her lotion for tired hands and a little whiff of laundry soap. I can hear her voice.
“I think she grew while I was gone,” Mom whispers. “Is that possible?”
I realize I’m wide awake. But I keep my eyes squeezed shut. I missed Mom when she was gone but now I don’t want to talk to her. I want her to talk to me. I want her to miss me so much she wakes me up with a kiss on my forehead, one on each cheek, and one on my nose. But she doesn’t.
“Sure it is,” Dad whispers. “Mom said the kids ate a lot.”
“Really?” Mom whispers.
“I think she figured out how to order Chinese food in alien territory,” Dad whispers with a laugh tucked in it.
I feel Mom’s hand on my forehead.
“My little girl,” she says quietly.
My eyelids flutter like butterflies.
“Lola?” Mom whispers. “Are you awake?”
I keep them squeezed shut.
Mom leans down and kisses me on my forehead and my cheeks and right on my nose.
I hear Jack’s elephant feet pound into my room.
“MOM!” he yells.
I pop my eyes open. Jack grabs Mom with a hug.
“I’m awake!” I yell. “And I grew!”
Mom laughs and tries to hug us both. Dad wraps in there, too, and we’re like a big cinnamon roll.
Grandma swishes through my door with her leopard robe and her fuzzy socks and white stuff all over her face and we squeeze her also. And after everyone piles out, I ask Grandma to snuggle with me and tell me one more Lola the Chicken story. And she does. This one’s about Zelda the Zebra and Lola the Chicken going to Paris.
“Can we go to Paris?” I ask Grandma.
“Why, Lola,” Grandma says. “You have the best ideas.”
21. A GOOD TOMATO
ON FRIDAY I GET TO SCHOOL FIRST. Mom drives me because I’ve got a lot to say to Mrs. D. before school starts. I’m wearing a brand new Lola dress that’s purple with green pockets.
Mrs. D.’s desk is covered with seeds, apples, a magnifying glass, construction paper, and flowers. It looks like a scientific experiment. But I’m afraid to go in there.
Really afraid.
Mrs. D. looks up. Fishsticks! Too late. I can’t hide.
“Lola, my dear,” Mrs. D. says. “How are you today?” “Good,” I say. “Mom came home last night from California.”
“That’s wonderful, Lola.”
“Mrs. D., I’m very sorry for being a rotten tomato.”
Mrs. D. holds out her arms. “Lola, I knew you would find a way to say sorry to Savannah.”
“And I’m sorry for sticking my tongue out at her, too. And falling on Jessie and getting lost on the field trip and landing in mud.”
Mrs. D. has a funny look on her face. Like she’s trying to hold her breath. She makes a little snorting sound like a horse laughing. “It was a busy week.”
“For trouble,” I say.
“Sometimes people have bad days, don’t they?” “And bad weeks.”
“You got through it, Lola. And now you have two new friends.”
“Jessie and Savannah.”
Mrs. D. smiles at me and I smile right back at Mrs. D. It’s like playing smile tennis. Sam comes running into the room.
“I’m first!” he yells. Then he sees me. “Oh, no, I’m not. You should be called First-But-Not-Least Lola.”
That is funny. I laugh.
I take out my notebook and make two lists.
WHY SAVANNAH AND I ARE FRIENDS
We are brave at the Nurse.
She will love her new Lola dress.
We will swing Double Dippers today cause we can take turns with Amanda and Jessie.
We miss our Moms when they’re out in California.
We’re glad when they come home.
WHY JESSIE AND I ARE FRIENDS
We run faster than roosters.
We stink in the mud.
She’ll love her new Lola dress.
We’ll never get mad at each other again.
Never ever ever.
Maybe.
THE KIDS IN MRS. DEBENEDETTI’S SECOND GRADE CLASS (ALPHABETICAL ORDER)
Amanda Anderson
Harvey Baxter
Dilly Chang
Jessie Chavez
Abby Frank
Charlie Henderson
Sam Noonan
Sophie Nunez
Olivia O’Donnell
Madison Rogers
Rita Rohan
Ari Shapiro
Ruby Snow
Jamal Stevenson
Gwendolyn Swanson-Carmichael
John Carmine Tabanelli
Timo Toivonen
Savannah Travers
Ben Wexler
Lola Zuckerman
1. Z IS FOR ZOMBIE
MY NAME IS LOLA ZUCKERMAN, and Zuckerman means I'm always last. Just like zippers, zoom, and zebras. Last. Zilch, zeroes, and zombies.
ZZZZZZZ when you're too tired to stay awake. ZZZZZZZZ when a bee is about to sting you. Z. Ding-dong LAST in the alphabet.
That's a problem when your teacher is in love with the alphabet. Tomorrow at school, we're going to share all about our Halloween costumes. By the time Mrs. D. gets to me, nobody will be listening. I could say, “I'm going to be a stick of butter,” or, “I think I'll be a lump of mud.” Amanda and Jessie will be playing Miss Mary Mack. Harvey will be hanging off his chair. Savannah will be daydreaming. That's when you're wide awake but you're not paying a bit of attention.
Mrs. D. says we have to be problem solvers. And when she says “we” to me she means me. But I'm lying here in my bed draining my brain battery out and I can't think of a single good solution.
There's a crack in my wall shaped like a “C.” If my name were Lola Cool or Lola Cracker Jack or even Lola Drool, I'd be right near the front of the alphabet. Everyone would be listening up to hear all about my Halloween costume.
“LOLA!” my brother, Jack, hollers.
“WHA-AT?” I yell.
I whip open my door and YAAAAAGH!
Something white jumps out at me.
I take a flying leap back and smack onto my bed.
“AAAGH!” I scream.
Then I take a second look.
It's just an old sheet. With an old smelly brother underneath it.
Patches comes running into the room, barking his head off. He jumps onto the bed with me.
“I AM THE GHOST OF ZUCKERMAN MANSION!” Jack calls in his old-movie-scary-voice.
I leap up and whip the sheet off him.
Jack falls on the floor laughing.
“Not funny!” I yell. I sling a pillow right at his not- ghost face.
“Your friends are here,” Jack says. “Stinkmanda and Fussy.”
“What's going on up there?” Mom calls.
“Nothing, Mom,” Jack says. “I just did what you told me.”
“Well, come on, Lola!” she yells. “Amanda and Jessie are waiting for you in the kitchen.”
Last-But-Not-Least Lola and the Wild Chicken Page 6
