Text copyright © 2015 by Christine Pakkala
Illustrations copyright © 2015 by Paul Hoppe
All rights reserved
For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, contact [email protected].
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Boyds Mills Press
An Imprint of Highlights
815 Church Street
Honesdale, Pennsylvania 18431
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN: 978-1-62091-596-7 • e-book ISBN: 978-1-62979-433-4
Library of Congress Control Number: 2015936721
First edition
The text of this book is set in ITC Novarese Std.
The drawings are done in pen on paper, with digital shading.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For my sister, Kathy, with love
—CP
For Maria & Gerhard
—PH
CONTENTS
1.Stinkmanda and Fussy
1½.Guh-guh-guh Ghost
2.Once Upon a Puppy
3.Yes, They Are So Real Ghosts
3½.Lola Pumpkinman
4.I Am Red and Pink and a Little Bit Green
5.Lola Zeroman
6.A Glob of Mud
7.Guess Who?
8.Cupcake Queens Don’t Like Beans
9.Runaway Dog!
10.Once Upon a Whoooo
10½.Once Upon a Dwight White
11.Under No Circumstances
12.Downer Dinner
12½.Poor Patches
13.Dear Jessie and Amanda
14.Just a Lonely Pumpkin
The Kids in Mrs. DeBenedetti’s Second Grade Class (Alphabetical Order)
1. STINKMANDA AND FUSSY
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. Dingdong 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 dough.” 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 was 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-scary-movie 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 hollers. “Amanda and Jessie are waiting for you in the kitchen.”
I hop off my bed. “Just wait until I tell Mom,” I say.
“Oh, really?” Jack says in a squeaker voice. “Did I scare the widdle baby?”
“I’m not a baby.”
“HUNH!” He jumps at me.
“ACK!” I jump back. Then I hurry down the hall. I keep looking over my shoulder to make sure Jack stays put.
“Hi, Lola!” Amanda says.
“What was all that hollering about?” Jessie asks.
“Jack stubbed his toe.” ’Cause I’m not a widdle baby.
Mom gives us some carrots and hummus to snack on, then goes into her sewing room. She’s making a brand-new batch of Lola dresses for those people out in California.
Jack zooms into the kitchen. “Oh, look at the cute little kids.”
“We’re not little kids,” I inform him.
Jack pauses above me. “Lola, when was the last time you brushed your hair?” He pokes at my head.
“Stop poking me, you fake-ghost poker!”
Jack pokes me again.
“Is it okay if we take our snack outside?” Amanda asks politely.
“Yeah, let’s get away from your brother,” Jessie says.
We head into the backyard and sit in a pile of leaves. Patches lays his head on Jessie’s lap.
“You don’t get any privacy at your house, do you?” Jessie asks. She pats Patches on the head.
“No,” I say. “Patches, get off!” But Patches doesn’t move. “He likes you!”
“My dog used to be best friends with Patches,” Amanda says.
“Now your dog is best friends with my brand-new, super-deluxe, purebred dog,” Jessie says. I get a sour feeling in my stomach, like I ate a whole jar full of dill pickles.
“Well, la-di-da,” I say. “Patches has a new best friend, too.”
“Who?” they both ask.
“Savannah’s dog,” I say.
“I didn’t know she had a dog,” Amanda says. She frowns. That’s when you fold up your forehead. Principal McCoy’s face got stuck that way. “What’s its name?”
I take a deep breath. “Um . . . Jessie.”
“Wait a second. Her dog has the same name as me?” Jessie says. “I don’t believe you!”
“It’s true,” I yelp. I hold up a giant yellow leaf and cover my face with it like it’s a mask. Only it doesn’t cover the whole thing. I can still see Jessie.
“Who’s taking care of Jessie-the-dog while Savannah’s visiting Old Sturbridge Village?” Jessie asks.
“Er . . . I am,” I say.
“Well, where is she?” Jessie asks. She squints at me with laser vision to see if I’m lying.
I get a real sad look on my face. “Jessie ran away. Far away.”
“Really?” Amanda sticks out her little finger. “Pinkie-promise?”
“Pinkie-promise,” I squeak. “Mom and I put up LOST DOG signs everywhere.”
“I guess she’s not lying,” Jessie says. But Amanda’s pinkie is squeezing tight on mine.
“Have you told Savannah yet?” she asks.
“Not yet. I have to go over to her house tonight when she gets home. Or I’ll tell her tomorrow at school,” I add on.
“She’s going to be really mad at you,” Jessie says.
“No, she won’t,” I explain. “’Cause we’re getting her a brand-new dog!”
Amanda folds her arms across her chest. “Really, Lola?”
“Well . . .” I say, “ma
ybe. If we can’t find Jessie.”
“You should get her a puppy,” Amanda says. “A fluffy little golden retriever.”
“Or maybe I’ll rescue a dog from the animal shelter,” I say.
Amanda claps her hands. “Oh, that’s a really good idea!”
“Never mind that,” Jessie says. “Look what I’ve got.” She whips a catalog out of a big pocket in her Lola dress. She unfolds it and holds it up.
“World’s Deluxe Costumes,” I read off the cover. “Wow!” I’m not that excited, but anything’s better than talking about Jessie, the Dog That Ran Away (Fingers Crossed) or The New Puppy I’m Getting Savannah (Fingers Crossed Part Two).
Jessie opens up to the center of the catalog.
“Ooh,” we three say. Because there they are: The Cupcake Queens. Vanilla Sprinkles, Chocolate Cherry, and Strawberry Sweetie Pie. They have their own TV show, their own book, and their own action figures.
“There’s one for each of us,” Jessie says.
I look a little closer at the Cupcake Queen costumes. They cost A LOT. I bet Mom and Dad will say no. I told Mom I wanted to be Zero for Halloween because Zero is last and I feel sorry for it. But Mom is too busy running her sewing machine day and night. Rrrrr. Rrrr. And go make yourself a snack because you’re a big girl.
“And guess what?” Jessie announces TV-style. “My mom did the advertising for World’s Deluxe Costumes, so they let her take a bunch of super fantastic costumes! Including the Cupcake Queen costumes!”
We jump up and Patches rolls in the leaves. We yell, “OOGA BOOGA! OOGA! BOOGA! We’re the Cupcake Queens!”
Even if that Cupcake Queens show is kind of bo-oring.
“But what about Savannah?” Amanda asks. “Won’t she be sad?”
“Not with a new puppy,” Jessie says.
“Yeah, right,” I agree, but quiet. Because I wish we could stop talking about the Pretend New Puppy.
“And what about your mom?” Amanda asks. “She always makes you a great costume every year.”
“Not this year,” I say, and “this” stands for all those kids in California who want Lola dresses.
Whoooooooooo. WHOOOOOOOOOOO.
The three of us freeze.
“Did you hear that?” I ask.
“Was it Patches?” Amanda whispers.
We look at Patches. He looks back at us and wags his tail.
I peer into the house. Peering is a cross between peeking and fearing.
Mom’s inside the kitchen, holding up a big hula hoop. I can just barely see Jack, in his room upstairs.
Whoooooooooooo. WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
If it’s not Mom and it’s not Jack, what is it?
1½. GUH-GUH-GUH GHOST
DAD PULLS MY COVERS TO MY chin.
“Can you tell me a story, Dad?”
Dad has loads of stories and my Uncle Charlie is in every single one. I call Uncle Charlie “Chuncle” ’cause I couldn’t say “Uncle Charlie” when I was a little kid.
Guess what? When I have sleepovers at Chuncle’s apartment in New York City, he tells bedtime stories. And my dad is in every single one.
Dad says, “One time when Uncle Charlie and I were about your age, Grandma drove us out to Smitty’s Family Farm on Long Island to pick a pumpkin for Halloween. Well, Grandma was talking to someone and it seemed like it was taking forever to get started. So Uncle Charlie and I decided to head off on our own. We saw one great pumpkin after another. Before we knew it, we were lost. Everywhere we looked, we saw pumpkins.”
“How lost?” But I have a secret. I’ve already heard this story, ’cause Chuncle told me.
“Really, really lost. All we could see were pumpkins, and Uncle Charlie started to cry.”
“Chuncle said you were the one who cried,” I tell him.
“No, it was Chuncle, all right,” Dad says.
“He said it was you.”
“Well, maybe it was both of us. And it was a good thing we cried so loud, because Grandma found us.”
“You were really scared, weren’t you?”
“We were,” Dad says. “But Grandma was never very far away. We didn’t need to be afraid.”
Dad kisses me good-night and tells me Mom is going to come in and say good-night in one second.
“But you’ve got to wait for Mom,” I remind him. “In case of ghosts.” Even though Mom said ghosts aren’t real and all that screaming that we did upset Mrs. McCracken next door who was trying to enjoy her patio on a nice fall evening. And Mrs. McCracken is always feeling soupy and low and our screaming just about gave her a heart throb.
After one hundred and thirty-nine seconds and more ’cause I lost count, Mom comes in. I close my eyes to pretend I’m asleep ’cause it took Mom so long to get in here.
“She’s asleep,” Mom whispers to Dad. “I’m going to finish up the dishes.”
I spring open my eyes. “No, I’m not,” I say.
Mom sighs and that’s not nice.
“Can you tell me a good-night story, Mom?” I ask.
“I’ll do the dishes,” Dad says. And he kisses me good-night again.
Mom sits on my bed and smooths down my hair, only I bet that didn’t work. “Of course, little Lola Lou,” she says.
“Can you tell me about the time you had a really bad fever and you only liked strawberry ice cream?” I ask her.
Jack must have heard. He comes in and cuddles up next to me because we both like this story and we both miss Mom, even though he’s never said so. I’m his sister and that’s how I know stuff about him that’s secret.
“Strawberry ice cream and sliced strawberries and strawberry Jell-O,” Mom says.
“Why didn’t you love chocolate ice cream?” Jack asks.
“Because I loved strawberry.”
“I would have loved chocolate ice cream,” Jack says.
“I would have loved Rocky Road,” I say.
“Well, I loved strawberry ice cream. And even after I felt better, I asked my mom—”
“Granny Coogan,” Jack and I interrupt.
“Yes, I asked Granny Coogan if I could only eat strawberries. So Granny Coogan gave me strawberries for breakfast, strawberries for lunch, and . . . ”
“Strawberries for dinner!”
“And after three days of nothing but strawberries . . .”
“You begged for a grilled cheese!” we yell.
“And I never wanted to see a strawberry again. Well, at least not for a very long time.”
“What about now?” Jack says. “Do you love strawberries now?”
“They’re not my favorite,” Mom says, only I am thinking about strawberry bushes, and inside those bushes there’s a cozy pillow and a blanket and . . .
I hear KA-BOOM! and I sit right up in my bed. FLASH! Lightning shines in my room. And I see it! A ghost hunkers down in the corner.
I scream and scream and scream and scream.
Mom and Dad come running in and flip on my light.
And that’s when I go and sleep in their bed.
2. ONCE UPON A PUPPY
“DOES COFFEE MAKE YOU STAY awake?” I ask Mrs. D. She is busy writing ONCE UPON A PUMPKIN on the chalkboard.
Amanda and Jessie just went to the bathroom to brush their hair and fix their bows and headbands. “You should come with us,” Jessie said. “Your hair is kind of messy.”
“That’s how I like it,” I told her. And I really hope they stay in there for a good long time. So I can tell Savannah about her new pretend puppy when she gets here. She better come soon. Because if Amanda finds out about my Jessie Dog and New Puppy Fib (okay, Lie), I’m guessing she won’t like me anymore, in permanent marker.
“Why, I suppose it does,” Mrs. D. says. That gives her a good idea, I guess, and she takes a sip from her travel mug. “And that thunderstorm we had last night.”
I give a big yawn. “Then I’m going to start drinking it.”
“Why are you tired, Lola?” Mrs. D. asks.
“I had
to keep one eye open while I was sleeping,” I tell her. “On account of the ghost at my house.”
Harvey comes barreling into the room. “Ghosts? That’s nothing. I’ve got a werewolf in my backyard.”
Mrs. D. smushes her lips together. “Hmm, I can see we’re going to need a little discussion about Halloween myths.”
“What’s a myth?” Harvey asks.
“A myth is a make-believe story. It’s something that gets handed down from generation to generation,” Mrs. D. explains.
“So a myth is a lie story,” I say.
“Not exactly, Lola. For example, one Halloween myth is that if you dream of a white cat, you will be lucky. It’s not exactly a lie, is it? It’s more of a wish. And zombies and ghosts are not lies, but fears.”
“But I heard it hallooing in my backyard, and later on I woke up and saw it in my bedroom, and my mom and dad said it was just my laundry hamper but I think it was a ghost, so that’s why I never wanted to keep both of my eyes shut at the same time,” I say. My lip feels a little wobbly, like it wants to bike right off my face.
Amanda and Jessie crowd up next to me. They’re brushed back in place.
“We heard it too, Mrs. D.,” Jessie says. She shivers.
“It was scary!” Amanda says.
“I’m sure there’s a sensible explanation,” Mrs. D. says. “Maybe it was the rumbling from the approaching thunderstorm, girls. No need for concern. Did you ask Mom or Dad?”
“Yes. But Mom has too much on her plate right now to go looking for something that’s howling and invisible and just some figs in my imagination. And in Amanda’s. And Jessie’s.”
And speaking of those FRIENDS, Amanda and Jessie go to the back of the room to sharpen their pencils. Only they play Miss Mary Mack. Fishsticks. I want to go back there and get in the way. But first I have to tell Savannah about Jessie-the-dog.
I post myself at the door. Where is that Savannah Travers? Where in the ding-a-ling-ring-ding could she be?
Last-But-Not-Least Lola and the Cupcake Queens Page 1
