by Kara LaReau
“Girls love to be serenaded,” Louie informs him. “It’s, like, a fact.”
“Sneaking around in the dark under someone’s window? Sounds more like trespassing,” says Ralphie.
“He’s right,” Chuck says, throwing up his hands. “You know, I might stink right now, but your advice is really garbage, Louie. See you around.”
“Wait! I thought we were friends!” Louie calls. But Chuck has already stormed off.
“Good riddance,” says Ralphie.
“You’re just jealous because Chuck is cool and he wants to hang out with me and not you,” Louie says.
“He’s not a real friend,” Ralphie says. “He was just using you to get to Fluffy.”
“Well, next time I need your two cents, I’ll ask for it,” says Louie.
“Oh, yeah?” says Ralphie, stomping off. “We’ll see about that.”
Don’t forget — entries for the poetry contest are due after school today by five o’clock!” Principal Otteriguez announces at lunch.
“Uh-oh,” says Louie. “We’d better start working on our poem.”
“We?” says Ralphie. “This time, you’re on your own, big brother.”
“But I’m fresh out of ideas,” Louie says.
“Maybe because you spent the whole week coming up with ideas for Chuck,” Ralphie reminds him.
Louie tries to think of ideas all afternoon. He’s still drawing a blank when the final bell rings.
“I still have until five. Maybe you guys could help me brainstorm?” Louie says after school.
“Poetry? Blech,” says Chad.
“Fluffy, can you help?” Louie says.
“I have to go water my plants,” she says.
“How about you guys?” Louie asks Millicent and Tiny.
“We have our own poem to finish,” says Millicent.
“Plus, we’re really mad at you, Louie Ratso,” says Tiny.
“Why?” asks Louie. “What did I do?”
“Because of you, Chuck isn’t sitting with us at lunch anymore,” says Tiny.
“Now we have to admire him from all the way across the cafeteria again!” says Millicent.
“But I can’t do all of this by myself!” Louie says.
He stays after school thinking and scribbling, scribbling and thinking. But nothing sounds right.
It’s so much harder working alone, he realizes. And a lot less fun.
“You’re late,” Big Lou says when Louie finally gets home.
“I was trying to write something in time to enter the poetry contest,” Louie says. “But nothing I came up with was good enough.”
Ralphie is already finished with his dinner. “May I have some ice cream?” he asks.
“You may,” says Big Lou. He turns back to Louie. “Your meatball grinder is cold now. Do you want me to heat it up?”
“No, that’s OK,” Louie says. The grinder is cold and a little soggy, but he’s too hungry to care.
“You look tired,” says Big Lou.
“I’ve been trying to help a kid at school get a girl to notice him,” Louie says. “But Project Fluffy has been a disaster.”
“Maybe because Fluffy is a person and not a project,” Ralphie says, taking a bite of rocky road.
“Ralphie is right. Women aren’t projects, or objects,” Big Lou notes. “When I first met your mom, I really wanted her to like me, so I figured out what she liked.”
“She liked to laugh and to sing,” says Louie.
“And she liked strawberry ice cream,” says Ralphie. “That’s my second favorite, after rocky road.”
“That’s all true. And she also liked bird-watching,” says Big Lou.
“She used to wear binoculars,” says Ralphie. “And carry around that little notebook.”
“That’s where she’d write about the birds she saw,” says Louie.
“On our first date, we went to the Big City Park and watched the birds,” says Big Lou.
“You watched birds?” says Ralphie. “Bo-ring!”
“I thought it would be, but it was actually kind of interesting,” says Big Lou. “And then, of course, I took her out for strawberry ice cream.”
“I bet the ice cream sealed the deal,” said Ralphie.
“What sealed the deal came after the ice cream,” says Big Lou. “That’s when I told her how much I liked her.”
“You told her you liked her to her face?” Ralphie says.
“It felt pretty great to say it, actually,” Big Lou says. “I wish I’d told your mom how I felt about her more often. I’m glad I can tell you boys how much I love you every day.”
“I love you, too, Dad,” says Louie.
“Me, too,” says Ralphie. “Every day.”
As Louie eats his soggy sandwich, he thinks about Mama Ratso. Talking about her and all the things she liked makes him feel good. It almost seems as if she’s there with them, laughing and eating ice cream.
At the end of the day on Friday, the whole school assembles in the auditorium.
“I’m proud to introduce the winners of the First Annual Peter Rabbit Elementary School Poetry Contest,” Mr. Otteriguez announces. “First prize goes to . . . Millicent Stanko and Tiny Crawley, for their illustrated poem, ‘Chuck Steals Home’!”
“SQUEEEE!” exclaim Millicent and Tiny as they high-five each other. After Tiny reads his poem, Millicent shows everyone her drawings.
“They really do make a good team,” Louie admits.
“And now, second prize,” Mr. Otteriguez announces. “Congratulations to Velma Diggs, for her poem, ‘The Hole World’!”
“Whoa, that was deep,” Chad says when Velma finishes reading.
“And third prize goes to . . . Ralphie Ratso, for his poem, ‘Friends’!”
“What?” Louie says.
“Ahem,” Ralphie says. Then he starts reading.
“That’s so beautiful,” says Tiny.
“Is someone cutting onions in here?” asks Chad, wiping a tear from his eye.
“Wow,” Louie says after the assembly ends. “You wrote that poem?”
“I had a lot of free time this week,” Ralphie reminds him.
“Most of what I tried to write was pretty bad,” Louie admits. “Except for this part.” He hands over his clipboard.
“All that time I was trying to figure out what Chuck needed to get Fluffy’s attention, and I wasn’t paying attention to what you needed,” Louie says. “I’m really sorry.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t help you when you needed it,” Ralphie says. “I think I was jealous, but not because Chuck wanted to hang out with you. Because you wanted to hang out with Chuck.”
“Well, it turned out you didn’t need anyone’s help. You’re a really good writer,” Louie says.
“But I only won third place,” Ralphie says. “The third-place gift certificate isn’t enough to buy two skateboards.”
“You should just buy one for yourself. You earned it,” Louie suggests.
“Nah, it won’t be as much fun riding without you,” says Ralphie. His eyes brighten. “But you know, Verminator 2 is coming out soon. Maybe I’ll buy it for us, along with a fresh bag of Happy Puffs.”
“As long as we’re together, I’m happy enough,” Louie says.
“As long as we’re together and I’m the high scorer again!” says Ralphie.
“Hey, guys,” says Chuck Wood. “What’s up, Millicent? Hi, Tiny.”
“Oh, hey,” says Millicent, pretending not to care.
“Whatever,” says Tiny.
“I just wanted to thank you for that poem. I’m really nervous about my game tomorrow, so it’s nice to know you’re thinking of me,” he says.
“It was nothing,” says Millicent.
“Whatever,” Tiny says again.
“I really liked your drawings of me, Millicent,” Chuck says. “You made me look like a real baseball star!”
Millicent blushes. “I just draw what I see,” she says.
“And Tiny, I loved the sporty detai
ls you put in the poem,” Chuck says.
“I had a ball writing it,” Tiny admits.
“You guys really get me,” Chuck says. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow at the game?”
“Definitely,” says Millicent.
“Sure!” says Tiny.
“Don’t forget to bring your Chuck signs,” Chuck says.
As Chuck walks away, Millicent and Tiny look at each other.
“SQUEEEE!” they say.
As he watches the scene unfold between Chuck and Millicent and Tiny, Louie thinks about his conversation with Ralphie, and what Big Lou said at dinner the night before. He thinks about Mama Ratso and her bird-watching notebook . . . which was a lot like Fluffy’s gardening notebook. Then he gets an idea, too.
“Wait, Chuck,” he says. “I just thought of something nice you could do for Fluffy, just like Millicent and Tiny did for you.”
Chuck rolls his eyes. “I’m done with Project Fluffy,” he says.
“Me, too,” says Louie. “I spent all my time trying to find a way for you to get Fluffy’s attention, because that’s what you wanted. But I wasn’t thinking about Fluffy at all. When you like someone, you need to pay attention to what they want.”
“OK,” Chuck says, sighing. “I’m listening.”
Louie whispers in his ear.
“Finally,” Fluffy says.
That Saturday afternoon, her strawberries look perfectly red and ripe. But just as she’s about to pick them, she hears a voice.
“Hey,” says Chuck.
“Oh. Hi, Chuck,” says Fluffy.
“I know you’re busy with your garden, but I just wanted to bring you . . . this bouquet,” he says. “Since you’re allergic to flowers, I thought you could plant these seeds instead.”
“Wow!” Fluffy says, smiling. “This is so . . . thoughtful.”
“I just wanted you to know I like you,” says Chuck. “If you like me, too, maybe sometime we could go out for pizza, or . . . salad?”
“Chuck,” says Fluffy, “I think I could like you as a friend. But my heart belongs to my garden.”
“OK,” says Chuck. “You know, the more I think about it, my heart really belongs to baseball.”
“Friends?” asks Fluffy.
“Definitely,” says Chuck. “Friends.”
They shake paws. Then Fluffy looks over at the baseball field.
“Um, speaking of baseball, isn’t your game about to start?” she asks.
“Thanks for reminding me!” Chuck says. He grabs his glove and runs off.
“I didn’t know you were all coming to watch the game,” Millicent says.
“I bought an extra foam finger, if anyone wants it,” says Tiny.
“We’re having a picnic,” Louie says.
“And maybe watching some birds,” says Big Lou.
“I’m just here for the food,” Chad explains. “Well, that and the company.”
“Leave some room for dessert, gang — I have fresh-picked strawberries,” says Fluffy.
“I’m feeling inspired,” says Ralphie. “Ahem. . . .”
“I love picnics, and baseball,
and sunny weather.
But most of all,
I love when we’re all together.”
“Game ON!” says Louie.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2018 by Kara LaReau
Illustrations copyright © 2018 by Matt Myers
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
First electronic edition 2018
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number pending
The illustrations were done in ink and watercolor dye on paper.
Candlewick Press
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Somerville, Massachusetts 02144
visit us at www.candlewick.com
