Horrible Harry and the Stolen Cookie
Page 1
Other Books by Suzy Kline
Horrible Harry in Room 2B
Horrible Harry and the Green Slime
Horrible Harry and the Ant Invasion
Horrible Harry’s Secret
Horrible Harry and the Christmas Surprise
Horrible Harry and the Kickball Wedding
Horrible Harry and the Dungeon
Horrible Harry and the Purple People
Horrible Harry and the Drop of Doom
Horrible Harry Moves Up to Third Grade
Horrible Harry Goes to the Moon
Horrible Harry at Halloween
Horrible Harry Goes to Sea
Horrible Harry and the Dragon War
Horrible Harry and the Mud Gremlins
Horrible Harry and the Holidaze
Horrible Harry and the Locked Closet
Horrible Harry and The Goog
Horrible Harry Takes the Cake
Horrible Harry and the Triple Revenge
Horrible Harry Cracks the Code
Horrible Harry Bugs the Three Bears
Horrible Harry and the Dead Letters
Horrible Harry on the Ropes
Horrible Harry Goes Cuckoo
Horrible Harry and the Secret Treasure
Horrible Harry and the June Box
Horrible Harry and the Scarlet Scissors
BY SUZY KLINE
PICTURES BY AMY WUMMER
VIKING
An Imprint of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
VIKING
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Young Readers Group, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.
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Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
First published in the United States of America by Viking, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2013
Text copyright © Suzy Kline, 2013
Illustrations copyright © Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 2013
All rights reserved
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Kline, Suzy.
Horrible Harry and the stolen cookie / by Suzy Kline ; illustrated by Amy Wummer.
p. cm.— (Horrible Harry)
ISBN 978-1-101-59406-3
[1. Fund raising—Fiction. 2. Schools—Fiction. 3. Behavior—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.K6797Hnsj 2013 [E]—dc23 2012021276
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Dedicated to my beautiful granddaughter Gabrielle Lauren DeAngelis, who collects food for the soup kitchen and makes stuffed animals for children in the hospital.
I love you, Gabby!
Grandma Sue
Special appreciation to . . .
My patient husband, Rufus, who listened to me many times about the story and made valuable suggestions; my precious granddaughter Mikenna, who helped me write about the chocolate chip cookie; my loving daughter Emily, who makes the best chocolate chip cookies; Wheelock Elementary School in Medfield, Massachusetts; George Washington Elementary School in White Plains, New York; and all the other caring schools I visited who raised funds for charities
And a special thank you to my hardworking editor, Leila Sales, for her critical questions and very helpful comments.
Contents
Other Books by Suzy Kline
Title Page
Copyright
Dedications
Acknowledgments
The Super Cookie
Not a Normal Harry Day
Dash for Cash
Why Harry Ran So Hard
The GS Fund
Moolah Moolah
Sid's Warm Cookies
Kerplink! Kerplunk!
My Horrible Chocolate Chip Cookie Plan
How the Cookie Crumbled
Sidney’s Delicious Chocolate Chip Cookie Recipe
The Super Cookie
My name is Doug and I’m in third grade. I write stories about my best friend, Harry, and all the horrible things he loves. I’ve written about an earwig, green slime, a dungeon, a burnt wiener, vultures, and even dead fish.
This story is different.
It’s about a chocolate chip cookie.
Not a regular one. A super cookie. I needed it to have special powers. I had to use it to stop Harry from doing the most horrible thing he had ever planned to do.
What was that horrible thing? And did the super cookie work?
I’ll tell you all about it.
Not a Normal Harry Day
It started on Monday morning before school. Harry got out of his grandma’s red truck as usual, closed the door, and then did something very unusual.
Harry did not run down the ramp to the playground.
He just stood there, watching us play kickball.
I waved to him. “You can be on my team!” I shouted. I rolled the red rubber ball over the plate. Song Lee kicked it high into right field, then dashed to first base.
Well, Harry didn’t join us. He just sat down at the top of the ramp and crossed his arms. He didn’t even say yahoo when Song Lee touched home plate and scored a home run!
I could tell right away that today was not a normal Harry day.
Later in the morning, our class went to the library. Our librarian, Mrs. Michaelsen, came over to Harry. “I have a brand-new book for you,” she said.
I shivered when I saw the cover. It had a picture of a big hairy tarantula with eight eyeballs!
“No thanks,” Harry said, and he shuffled over to the nearest table and sat down.
I made a beeline for Harry.
“What’s going on?” I asked as I sat next to him. “You love creepy books like that.”
“I can’t talk about it, Doug,” he mumbled.
“Why not?” I said. “That’s what friends are for. You talk about things, and maybe they can help.”
“Not with this,” he replied.
“With what?” I asked.
“It’s private!” Harry insisted.
Whoa, I thought. This was not a normal Harry day.
At noon, things got worse.
Harry wasn’t in the hot lunch line.
“Hey,” I said. “Where are you going?”
Harry pointed to Room 3B’s lunch table. He had a lunchbox in his hand.
I grabbed my tray of hot food and followed him.
“You always eat hot lunch on sausage day,” I said. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” he ans
wered.
“Want my broccoli?” I asked. I knew Harry loved that smelly vegetable.
Harry shook his head.
I dangled a sausage link in front of his face. “Want a juicy bite?”
“Nope,” Harry answered. Then he reached for his peanut butter sandwich.
We didn’t say another word. We just ate our lunches. Everyone else at Room 3B’s table was busy talking about the third grade’s annual Sharing and Caring Tag Sale. It was coming up on Thursday.
“Which charity do you want to earn money for?” Mary asked. “Miss Mackle said we get to vote after lunch.”
“I know who I’m voting for,” Sidney replied. “The animal shelter. They save lots of dogs from the death chamber.”
“It’s not called a death chamber,” Mary corrected. “Dogs are put to sleep.”
“It’s the same thing,” Sid insisted. “It’s not fair. Animal shelters need money to keep dogs alive.”
“Well,” Mary said, “I’m voting for the Girl Scouts! That’s a very caring group. I know because I am a Girl Scout. We collect food for community soup kitchens, and we make things for nursing homes.”
Dexter raised his hand and pretended to write in the air. “I’m doing a write-in ballot. I’m voting for the EFC!”
“EFC?” Mary questioned. “That sounds like KFC.”
Dexter chuckled. “Well,” he said, “Elvis did like fried chicken, but that’s not what EFC means. It’s the Elvis Fan Club!”
“That’s not a charity,” Mary replied.
Dexter made a fist. “Bummer,” he mumbled.
Harry finally broke his silence. “Don’t you know charity begins at home?” he snapped. “Granddad says that all the time.”
Mary carefully set her tuna salad sandwich back in its plastic container. “Harry Spooger,” she said slowly, “we are not going to earn money so we can spend it on ourselves.”
“I don’t see why not!” Harry insisted.
No, today was definitely not a normal Harry day.
Dash for Cash
That afternoon, we lined up for gym class. Usually Harry bolts for the door. He likes to be first.
Today he didn’t seem to care. He just went to the end of the line.
Man, I thought, Harry’s still sulking!
When we got to the gym, Mr. Deltoid had a surprise for us. He was holding a big sign that said DASH FOR CASH.
Harry stood on his tiptoes to read it.
“Boys and girls,” Mr. Deltoid said, “as you know, the third graders at South School are earning money this week for the charities of their choice. I thought you might like to continue that money-earning spirit in gym today. See this poster?”
Everyone reread the words DASH FOR CASH and nodded. Even Harry.
“Every time you run a lap, you earn one dollar.”
Mr. Deltoid pointed to a white Monopoly-money bill taped to the bottom of the poster. “I’ll keep track of your earnings. Ready?”
Harry started running in place.
“Go!” Mr. Deltoid shouted.
Harry took off like a roadrunner. He passed people one by one. When he got to the first corner of the gym and rounded the turn, Harry led the pack! I tried to catch up with him, but he was out of reach. Dexter was hot on his heels. Song Lee and Ida were tied for third. I could see their hair swaying back and forth.
“Hey, Harry!” I called out, breathing hard. “I knew you were fast, but not this fast!”
Dexter was humming an Elvis tune. “I’m feelin’ it!” he said. “I’m running like a hound dog!” And then he sang, “‘You ain’t nuthin’ but a hound dog,’” as he followed Harry around the next turn.
Harry looked over his shoulder at Dexter. They were side by side now. Harry gave Dex the thumbs-up sign. Wow, I thought, Harry’s back!
Dexter kept bobbing his head to the tune of his Elvis song.
By the tenth lap, I was losing speed. When ZuZu and Sid passed me, I joined Mary in the rest station. She had been the first one to stop.
“Two laps, and I was done!” Mary held up two white one dollar bills. “How much did you earn, Doug?”
“Eleven,” I said, a little out of breath.
Mary looked up and saw Harry round the gym again. “Harry acts like he’s running for real money,” she said.
I watched Harry as he finished another lap. When he got closer to me, he rubbed his fingers together and yelled, “Moolah moolah!”
Oh, no, I thought. Could Mary be right? Harry was at the end of the line when we got to gym. Could he see the money taped to the bottom of Mr. Deltoid’s sign? It was a white bill from the Monopoly game, not a green dollar bill with George Washington’s face on it.
I plopped on the gym floor next to Mary. One by one, other kids started joining us. They were pooped, too. Finally, Dexter sat down with two yellow bills and a pink five.
But Harry was still running.
Mr. Deltoid clapped his hands. “Good job, guys!” he said. “Now that you’re done, you can play ring toss, bean bag toss, or jump rope.”
We all got up and chose our activities in the center of the gym.
“Stop when you’re tired,” Mr. Deltoid called to Harry.
Ten minutes later, Harry finally collapsed.
He was out of breath and dripping wet when the gym teacher handed him the cash he had earned. “Three yellow tens, one pink five, and two white ones,” Mr. Deltoid said. “Congratulations, Harry! You earned the most money!”
“Huh?” Harry’s mouth dropped open. “This is . . . play . . . money,” he gasped.
“You can keep it,” Mr. Deltoid said. “You worked hard for it.”
Harry stared at the thirty-seven dollars in his sweaty hand. Slowly he let the play money slide from his fingers onto the floor.
“Okay, kids,” Mr. Deltoid shouted. “It’s time to line up.” Then he motioned for Harry to pick up his money.
He did, but when the teacher had his back turned, Harry threw all of it into the trash can.
Mary was right. Harry was dashing for real cash!
My question now was . . . why?
Why Harry Ran So Hard
The last hour of the day, Harry put his head down on his desk and stared at the floor. Everyone, including the teacher, thought that Harry was exhausted. After all, he had just run thirty-seven laps. But I knew better. Harry was bummed about the play money. I just didn’t know why.
Miss Mackle went to the whiteboard and took out her red marker.
“As you know, we are having our Sharing and Caring Tag Sale on Thursday,” she said. “I counted the votes while you were in gym, and I am happy to tell you which three charities will receive our donations. There were so many wonderful ones to choose from.”
Lots of people started clapping when they read the names on the whiteboard.
ASPCA, the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.
UNICEF, the United Nations International Children’s Emergency Fund.
GSUSA, Girl Scouts of the United States of America.
“Yes!” Mary blurted out.
“I want each of you to make a poster for one of these charities tonight for homework,” Miss Mackle said. “Please use their initials. You’ll hang your poster on the front of your desk for our tag sale.”
ZuZu was beaming. “Yahoo! UNICEF won! My great-grandmother lives in Lebanon, and she told me they help poor and sick children there.”
“I voted for that charity, too,” Song Lee added. “UNICEF helps children in Korea, and that’s where I was born. My aunt Sun Yee told me UNICEF cleaned up the polluted water near our old house.”
Miss Mackle smiled. “All right,” she said. “Now, do any of you know what you will be selling at our tag sale?”
Ida spoke first. “Song Lee taught me how to make fr
iendship bracelets. We’ve made two dozen already!”
Song Lee held her hand up so we could see the one on her wrist. The multicolored strings were all braided together. “Do you think fifteen cents is fair?” she asked.
“It’s worth at least a quarter,” I said. Song Lee and Ida bounced up and down in their seats. They liked the price.
I shared next. “I’m bringing a box of used children’s books. They’re still good, though. Not one page is ripped out. And I’m not selling the books my brother scribbled in.”
“Wonderful!” Miss Mackle replied.
“We can sell used things, but they should be in good condition.”
“Can we bake something?” Mary asked. “I want to make challah rolls. I love braiding the dough before it goes into the oven.”
“That’s a great idea,” Miss Mackle replied. “But all baked goods must be wrapped in foil or plastic for sanitary reasons. And that will make it easier for the children to take them home.”
Mary nodded. “Oh, I will be sure to wrap each roll very carefully!”
I nudged Harry. He was still slouched over his desk, and I wanted to cheer him up. “Hey, you could bake something, too. Your grandma could help.” Grandma Spooger bakes cakes and cookies all the time. She runs a bakery business out of her own kitchen.
Harry sat up. “No, I can’t ask her, Doug.” He lowered his voice. “Grandma’s stove broke down. She can’t bake anything until she gets her oven fixed. We have to save every nickel and dime for the repair job. It’s expensive!”
Oh boy, I thought. So that was the reason Harry ran so hard for cash. And why he couldn’t afford a hot lunch on sausage day. Harry had a money problem.
“That’s too bad,” I said.
“Don’t tell anyone,” Harry whispered. “Grandma says we shouldn’t talk about our money problems.”
“But . . . if you do talk about it, maybe someone could help,” I whispered back.