by Kara LaReau
1 Everyone Loves Chuck
2 Project Fluffy
3 Squeeeee!
4 With Love, Chucky
5 Oops
6 Love Stinks
7 Thinking and Scribbling
8 Tough Week
9 Friends
10 Pizza, or . . . Salad
“ATTENTION, STUDENTS!” Principal Otteriguez announces to the lunchroom. “In honor of Poetry Month, Peter Rabbit Elementary will be holding its first annual poetry contest!”
“Poetry?” says Chad Badgerton.
“Bo-ring,” says Ralphie.
“Shh,” says Louie. “I can’t hear what he’s saying.”
“First, second, and third prize will be gift certificates to Clawmart!” Mr. Otteriguez announces. “The contest ends on Thursday after school, and we’ll reveal the winners next Friday!”
“Poetry is so . . . sappy,” says Chad.
“Not all of it. Miss Beavers has been showing us some really funny poems,” says Tiny.
“Mr. Ferretti says that poetry is about feelings,” says Chad. “Blech.”
“All art is about feelings,” Millicent informs him.
“And about connecting through feelings,” Tiny adds. “Love, anger, joy, sadness . . .”
“Like I said,” says Chad. “Blech.”
“Well, I’m going to use my feelings to win that contest. In fact, I already have a plan,” Louie says. He looks at Ralphie. “We’ll write a poem together, and then we’ll use the first-prize Clawmart gift certificate to buy ourselves skateboards!”
“Oh, boy! We’ve been talking about getting skateboards forever,” says Ralphie. “No more walking to school. We can ride in style!”
“Are you gonna eat that?” Chad asks, pointing at Tiny’s brownie.
“Go for it,” says Tiny.
“I love chocolate,” says Chad.
“If you love it so much, why don’t you write a poem about it?” asks Ralphie.
“I don’t love it that much,” says Chad through a mouthful of brownie.
“Speaking of love . . .” says Millicent. She looks over at Chuck Wood in the hot lunch line and bats her eyelashes. “Isn’t he dreamy?”
“I wish I were friends with Chuck,” says Tiny. “Everyone does. He’s the coolest.”
“Don’t you think he’s dreamy, Fluffy?” Millicent asks.
But Fluffy isn’t listening. She’s writing in her green notebook. She’s been writing in it and looking through a stack of library books all through lunch.
“What are you scribbling in that thing?” Millicent asks. “Are you already working on a poem?”
“No, it’s plans for my garden,” Fluffy says.
“You have your own garden?” Millicent asks.
“I have my own plot in the community garden, at the Big City Park,” Fluffy explains. “I want to make sure I have room for all my favorite fruits and vegetables.”
“I do not love fruits and vegetables,” says Chad.
“You’re missing out,” says Fluffy. “You can’t just eat junk food all day.”
“I can try,” Chad says, licking brownie crumbs off his fingers.
Fluffy’s gardening books fall off the lunch table. Chuck Wood picks them up.
“Thank you,” says Fluffy.
“Gardening, huh?” says Chuck. “My grandma likes to garden.”
“Gardening is not just for grandmas,” Fluffy informs him.
“OK,” says Chuck. “See you around.”
“Oh, isn’t he the sweetest?” Millicent says, sighing.
Tiny sighs, too. “And the coolest,” he says.
“I think it would be cool if you all gave me your sweets,” Chad says, helping himself to everyone else’s brownies.
We only have a week to get our poem together,” says Louie as the Ratso brothers walk home from school. “We’d better start right away.”
“Righto,” says Ralphie. “So, what should we write about?”
“Leave the thinking to me,” says Louie. He considers himself the smart one.
“Hey, wait up!” says a voice behind them. It’s Chuck Wood. “I thought maybe we could walk together, since I live about a block away from you guys.”
“You want to walk with us?” says Louie. “I mean, sure. That’s cool.”
“I heard you’re the ones who put together the Big City FunTime Arcade,” Chuck says.
“Yep. We’re open every Saturday morning,” Louie informs him.
“You’re great at planning things,” says Chuck. “Do you think you could help me plan something?”
“Sure,” says Louie. “What is it?”
Chuck looks at Ralphie, then at Louie.
“It’s . . . kind of secret,” he says.
“Chuck and I need to talk for a while,” Louie informs his brother. “Alone.”
“What about our poem?” Ralphie asks.
“We’ll work on it later,” says Louie.
Ralphie rolls his eyes. He lets them walk ahead.
“OK,” says Louie. He takes his clipboard out of his backpack. “So, what’s this project?”
“Well . . . it’s not really a what. It’s a who,” Chuck says. “There’s a girl I like, but I can’t seem to get her attention. And you’re friends with her.”
“You mean Millicent?” Louie says. “Believe me, you have her attention.”
“No, I mean the one with the glasses. And those amazing ears,” says Chuck, sighing.
“Fluffy?” says Louie.
“Fluffy,” says Chuck. He smiles. “So, do you think you can help?”
Louie is already making notes on his clipboard.
“Of course. Why don’t you sit with us at lunch tomorrow?” he says. “We’ll call it Phase One of Project Fluffy.”
“Sounds like a plan,” says Chuck.
Louie looks up from his clipboard.
“Where’s my brother?” he asks.
Ralphie has taken a shortcut home. The Ratso brothers have an after-school routine — they play their favorite video game and eat their favorite snack.
“Want to play Verminator?” Ralphie asks when Louie finally gets home.
“I can’t,” says Louie, making Project Fluffy notes on his clipboard. “I have work to do.”
“What about the poetry contest? And the skateboards?” Ralphie asks. But Louie has already gone into their room and closed the door.
Ralphie throws the bag of snacks in the trash. These Happy Puffs are stale, he thinks. Or maybe he’s just in a not-very-happy mood.
I can’t believe Chuck Wood is sitting with us!” Millicent whispers to Tiny.
“Me neither!” Tiny whispers to Millicent. “The coolest of the cool, at our lunch table!”
They both make a noise that sounds a lot like “SQUEEEEE!”
“You two need to chill out,” says Ralphie. He sees Chad eyeing his pizza and pulls it toward himself.
“I love pizza,” says Chad.
“Well, love your own pizza,” says Ralphie. “This is mine.”
“Start talking,” Louie whispers to Chuck, giving him a nudge.
“About what?” Chuck asks.
“Let Fluffy know how cool you are,” Louie says.
Chuck clears his throat. “Uh, I think I’ve seen you in the park before,” he says to Fluffy.
“Hmm?” Fluffy says. She doesn’t look up. She has her nose in her gardening notebook again.
“Usually I’m playing baseball with my team, the Big City Critters. I’m a really good pitcher,” Chuck says. “You should come and watch sometime. We practice every day after school, and we have games on Saturday afternoons.”
“Hmm,” Fluffy says again, making som
e notes.
“I love baseball,” Tiny says.
“Can we come and watch?” asks Millicent.
“Um, sure,” says Chuck. “How about you, Fluffy?”
“What?” she asks.
“Do you want to watch me play baseball in the park?” Chuck asks.
“I don’t go to the park to watch baseball,” Fluffy informs him. “I go there to garden.”
And then she goes back to her notebook.
Chuck looks at Louie. Louie shrugs.
“I guess it’s time for Phase Two,” he says.
“What’s Phase Two?” asks Chuck.
“Come to my place after school,” says Louie.
“Just what I need,” grumbles Ralphie. “More of the Louie and Chuck Show.”
“I know what I need,” Chad says, wiggling his eyebrows.
Ralphie sighs and pushes his tray of pizza across the table.
“So, what’s Phase Two?” Chuck asks back at the Ratsos’ apartment.
“Forget Phase Two, when are we going to work on our poem for the contest?” Ralphie asks his brother.
“First things first,” says Louie, taking out his clipboard.
“Ugh, I just can’t win,” Ralphie says. He turns on his video game. “Except when I’m playing Verminator.”
“Speaking of poems,” Louie says to Chuck, “I think you should write one for Fluffy!”
“Um, I’m not really a writer,” he says.
“That’s OK,” Louie says. “You just tell me what you want to say, and I’ll do the rest.”
“What I want to say? To Fluffy?” says Chuck. “I want her to like me. Everyone likes me.”
“Not everyone,” mumbles Ralphie.
“She should know I’m cool, and I’m fun, and I’m really good at sports,” adds Chuck.
“OK, great,” says Louie. He scribbles, then crosses things out. Then he scribbles some more. Then he crumples up the paper and starts again. And again. And again.
“This is taking forever,” Chuck says.
“No one said writing poetry was easy,” Louie informs him.
Chuck sighs. “That game looks cool,” he says to Ralphie. “Can I play?”
“I don’t think it would be fair,” Ralphie says. “I’m the high scorer.”
“Don’t worry. I’m a quick learner,” Chuck says, grabbing a controller. Ralphie sighs and resets the game.
“Prepare to be verminated,” he says.
“Aha!” Louie says about an hour later. “I think I’m finished!”
“Me, too,” says Chuck. He’s entering his initials as the new high scorer. “Verminator was way easier than I thought. Sorry I beat you all those times, Ralphie.”
“Not as sorry as I am,” Ralphie grumbles, shoving away the controller.
Louie stands up. “Get a load of this,” he says.
“Not bad,” Chuck says. “But my name is Chuck, not Chucky.”
“It’s called poetic license,” Louie informs him. “Don’t worry, Fluffy will love it. Girls love mushy poetry. It’s, like, a fact.”
“She’d better,” Chuck says. “I can’t take much more of this romance stuff.”
“Me neither,” Ralphie grumbles.
The next day is Saturday. After Louie works at the arcade with his friends, he meets Chuck at the park.
“OK, here’s the poem. I copied it on my dad’s good paper, and I made sure to make the handwriting extra messy, like yours,” Louie says.
“I hope this won’t take long,” Chuck says. “My game starts in a few minutes.”
“Fancy meeting you here!” says Millicent. “We came to watch you.”
“And cheer you on!” says Tiny.
“There’s something he has to do first,” says Louie. He points Chuck in the direction of the community garden.
“Why is he going over there?” Millicent asks.
“Romance is about to bloom,” Louie says. He rubs his hands together.
“Hi, Fluffy,” says Chuck.
“Oh, hi . . .” says Fluffy.
“Chuck. My name is Chuck,” he says.
“Hmm,” Fluffy says. “I don’t think these strawberries are ripe yet. Do you?”
“How should I know?” Chuck says. “Look, I made you something.”
“I’m kind of busy right now,” says Fluffy.
“But my game is starting any minute,” Chuck informs her. He waves the paper. “I need you to look at it now.”
“OK, fine,” Fluffy says.
She takes the poem from Chuck. But she forgets to take off her gardening gloves. What was once a poem is now a muddy, unreadable mess.
“Oops,” Fluffy says.
“Hey!” says Chuck. “Louie — I mean, I worked hard on that!”
“I’m sorry. What did it say?” Fluffy asks.
Chuck tries to remember. “Uh . . . it was about how cool I am,” he says. “A lot of the words even rhymed.”
“That’s . . . nice,” Fluffy says. She goes back to considering her strawberries.
“Hey, is the game gonna start soon?” Millicent asks.
“I hope so. This sign is heavy,” says Tiny.
“Clearly, Project Fluffy needs to kick things up a notch for Phase Three,” Louie decides. “Game ON.”
Phase Three starts on Monday.
“Jeez, this bouquet was expensive,” Chuck says.
“Don’t worry. It’ll be worth it,” says Louie. “Girls love flowers. It’s, like, a fact.”
But when they get to the lunch table with the bouquet, Fluffy wrinkles her nose.
“ACHOO! ACHOO! Can you get those flowers away from me? I’m allergic,” Fluffy says, sniffling. “That’s why my garden is strictly fruits and vegetables.”
Chuck looks at Louie. Louie shrugs.
“I guess I can give these to my mom,” Chuck says. “I did forget her birthday last week.”
Chad takes a bite of his ice-cream sandwich.
“It’s not a gift if you can’t eat it,” he says.
“Hmm . . . that gives me an idea,” says Louie.
Phase Four starts on Tuesday.
“And I thought flowers were pricey,” says Chuck.
“You didn’t have to get so much candy,” says Louie, peering into the bag. “It looks like you bought the whole store.”
“Well, I don’t know what Fluffy likes, so I just bought what I like,” Chuck says. “And I like a lot of candy.”
“She’ll be sweet on you in no time,” says Louie. “Girls love candy. It’s, like, a fact.”
“Did I hear that you boys brought candy to school? You know that’s against the rules,” says Mr. Ferretti, their teacher. “I’m going to have to confiscate that bag, Mr. Wood.”
“Great,” Chuck says. “There goes all my savings for a new baseball glove.”
“Don’t worry,” Louie says. “My next idea won’t cost a thing.”
Phase Five starts on Wednesday.
“You need to show her how strong you are,” Louie says. “Girls like strong guys.”
“Let me guess,” Chad says. “Is it, like, a fact?”
“You’re catching on,” says Louie.
Chuck sighs and rolls up his sleeves.
“Do you ladies need HELP?” he asks the cafeteria workers, a little too loudly. “I’d be glad to TAKE OUT THE TRASH.”
“That’s kind of you, Chuck,” says Mrs. Weasler.
Chuck lifts the trash bags over his head. He looks in Fluffy’s direction and grins.
“My hero,” says Millicent.
“What a guy,” says Tiny.
“What a show-off,” says Fluffy. She takes a sip from her carrot juice, then goes back to her gardening notebook.
“Well,” says Louie, crossing off another plan on his clipboard. “There goes that idea.”
“Don’t forget — your entries for the poetry contest are due by the end of the school day tomorrow!” Principal Otteriguez announces to the lunchroom.
“I haven’t forgotten,�
� says Ralphie, giving his brother a look.
“Did you say something?” Louie asks.
“Nothing important,” says Ralphie. “Clearly.”
“I have an idea,” says Tiny. He turns to Millicent. “There’s still time for us to enter the poetry contest together. I can write something about how awesome we think Chuck is.”
“And I can illustrate it! Genius!” says Millicent. She and Tiny high-five each other. “We’d better get started right away.”
“You’re going to write a poem about Chuck? You can’t tell a boy you think he’s cool,” Chad informs Tiny as he polishes off his second chocolate pudding. “Not if you’re a boy.”
“Why not?” asks Tiny.
“I don’t know,” says Chad. “You just can’t.”
“I give you my dessert every day because I think you’re cool,” Tiny informs him.
“You do?” Chad says. He hesitates . . . then pats Tiny on the back. “Actually, I think you’re pretty cool, too.”
“Thanks,” says Tiny.
Chad takes another bite of pudding.
“Mmm,” says Chad. “Cool, and sweet . . . and chocolatey.”
“Why do I think we’re not talking about me anymore?” Tiny says.
“I like you a lot, Tiny,” says Chad. “But I love pudding.”
On the way home from school, Chuck can barely carry his books.
“My arms are killing me from lugging those trash bags, and now I smell like garbage,” he says. “Love stinks!”
“I think that might just be you,” says Ralphie, sniffing.
“This is a private conversation,” Louie reminds his brother.
“Don’t worry, I know the drill,” he says, glaring at them.
“I have another idea,” Louie tells Chuck.
“What phase are we on now? Seven? Eight?” Chuck asks.
“Phase Six,” Louie says. “This one will definitely work. I just need to turn the poem I wrote about Fluffy into a song, and then you can appear under her window and serenade her!”
“Serenade?” says Chuck.
