Green Gravy
Copyright © 1997
Beverly Lewis
Cover illustration by Paul Turnbaugh
Text illustrations by Janet Huntington
Ebook edition created 2012
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
eISBN 978-1-4412-6082-6
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
To
Claire Badger,
a delightful young reader
who is full of great story ideas.
(Thanks for “friendly freckles”!)
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
About the Author
Other Books by Author
Back Cover
ONE
Carly Hunter’s stomach did a flitterflop.
She looked up from her school desk.
The teacher had just called her name. But Miss Hartman looked happy, not frowny.
“You’re the Student of the Week!” she said to Carly.
“I am?” Carly couldn’t believe her ears.
“Please come to the front of the room,” Miss Hartman said.
Carly got up and walked toward the teacher’s desk.
Dee Dee Winters, Carly’s best friend, gave high-fives. “Three cheers for Carly Hunter!” she said.
The others joined in. “Three cheers,” they chanted.
Carly smiled and turned to face her classmates.
The teacher pinned a button on her sweater. It said Student of the Week. The words Blossom Hill School were spelled out at the bottom.
Miss Hartman gave Carly a piece of paper. “Give this to your parents. They can help you gather information about your life,” she said. “For your special day.”
“Thank you,” Carly replied.
Wow!
This was going to be fun.
During the school year, Carly had paid close attention. Other students had been given this honor. To get picked, you had to be a good citizen. An extra good one.
Yay!
Before she sat down, Miss Hartman explained some things. “As you know, the honored student makes a wish,” she said. “It can be anything. Within reason, of course.”
For a moment, Carly thought. She glanced across the room at Dee Dee. Her friend was making hand motions.
What was she trying to say?
Dee Dee was pointing toward the wall calendar.
Carly looked at the calendar. She saw a big, green cloverleaf. It was marking St. Patrick’s Day. March 17.
Now Dee Dee pointed to her own shirt. It was green-and-white checked.
The teacher was waiting. “Are you ready to make your wish?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” replied Carly.
She glanced at Dee Dee again.
Then she noticed Jimmy, her adopted Korean brother. He was leaning forward. His dark eyes were shining.
Carly could just imagine what he was thinking. Wish for more recesses, he might say.
But she stared at the calendar. She looked at the big, green clover. She thought about March 17.
There was plenty of Irish in her family. Mostly on her mother’s side.
She looked around the room again.
Lots of kids were something else—not Irish. Dee Dee was one of them. She had dark skin and deep brown eyes. Her hair had natural curls. Lucky for Dee Dee.
And there was Carly’s adopted brother. Jimmy had olive skin and straight, black hair. His eyes slanted up a little.
She took a breath and held it in.
Was her wish the right one?
Maybe not.
The teacher and the students were still waiting.
Carly decided to make a secret wish. It was a before-the-wish wish. A worrywart wish.
She wished that her special wish would be just right.
By now, Jimmy wiggled in his seat.
Dee Dee wrinkled her nose.
Other students were restless, too.
At last, Carly breathed all her air out.
It was time.
The Student of the Week’s wish was ready.
TWO
Carly said, “My wish is . . .”
She looked at the calendar again. Today was Monday. Her special day was going to land on St. Patrick’s Day!
On Wednesday. Just two more days.
“I want everyone to wear green,” she said. “Because I’m Irish.”
The kids started to clap.
All but Jimmy.
Their clapping made Carly smile.
That’s when the greatest idea popped into her head.
“Oh, one more thing,” she said out loud.
The teacher looked surprised. “Only one wish.”
Carly turned to her. “But this is lots like the other wish.”
“Well, let’s hear it.” Miss Hartman leaned over so Carly could whisper in her ear.
“Everyone must eat green food for St. Patrick’s Day,” Carly whispered.
Miss Hartman stood up straight. She was smiling. “I don’t see why we can’t have this wish, too,” she said. “It’s a two-part wish. Part A and part B.”
Then she told the class, “We’ll all wear green clothes and eat green foods. Let’s make Carly’s wish come true.”
Someone said, “Yucko.”
It was Jimmy. His hand shot up.
“Yes?” the teacher said.
“Everyone do this?” Jimmy asked in broken English.
Miss Hartman nodded. “It’s Carly’s wish. And she’s our Student of the Week.”
Jimmy’s cheeks sagged. “I not eat green food. I eat mashed potato and gravy.” He held up the school menu. “I buy hot lunch on Carly Hunter day!” He shook his head and made a fuss face.
Carly felt her neck getting hot. Jimmy is a Sour-Pie brother, she thought.
She wanted to stamp her foot and holler. But she walked to her desk and sat down.
She felt Dee Dee’s hand on her shoulder. Dee Dee’s desk was right behind hers.
“Jimmy’s mad,” whispered Dee Dee.
Carly looked over her shoulder. “That’s his problem,” she said.
Then she looked at Jimmy but couldn’t see his face. He’d put his head down on his desk.
“Now what?” Carly said softly, but mostly to herself.
Jimmy was pouting again. He’d just have to get over it.
Here in America, kids liked to have fun on special days. He’d have to start acting more American.
Like it or not!
It was after school.
Her mother waited at the front door. “How was your day?”
“I’m Student of the Week!” Carly exclaimed. “I have to tell the class all about me. About my life.”
She showed the paper with directions from Miss Hartman.
Mother smiled a happy face. “Would you like to show th
e class some baby pictures?”
“Yes!” Carly said. “And what else?”
“How about a picture of Snow White, our dog?” said Mother.
“Good idea!” Carly was excited. “Can I take Quacker, my duck, to school?”
Her mother laughed. “A duck at school? I don’t know about that.”
“But she’s my pet,” Carly said. “She’s part of the family.”
Carly went to look outside. The ducks, Quacker and Jack, were in their pen. They waddled through the dirt. They pecked at their feed.
“Well . . . maybe you’re right,” she said. “Maybe it’s not a good idea for a duck to go to school.”
Her mother studied the teacher’s idea list. “What about your favorite foods?” she said.
“Sweets,” said Carly. “I love sweets.”
“Then we’ll bake cookies for everyone,” her mother said. She was checking off the list. “Can we fit everything into a shoe box?” she asked.
“We’ll try,” said Carly. “But not my duck.”
Her mother agreed. “Definitely not.”
“I know! I’ll draw a picture of Quacker,” Carly suggested. “We have art class tomorrow.”
Her mother nodded. “I like that idea. Good thinking.”
Carly leaned over her mother’s shoulder. She looked at the list. “Anything else?”
“It would be nice to show pictures of your whole family,” her mother said.
Carly thought about that. “OK with me,” she said. “But none of Jimmy.”
Her mother had a strange look. “Why not? He’s your brother.”
“But he’s in my class,” Carly said. “Everyone knows what Jimmy looks like.”
He looks like a sour pie, she thought. Because that’s what he is!
“Why don’t you think about it,” her mother said.
“I’ll think,” Carly said. But she wasn’t so sure.
THREE
At supper, Jimmy poked at his food.
Carly watched.
“Sit up and eat, son,” their father said.
“No like peas,” Jimmy said. He pushed his plate away.
Carly shook her head. “He’s still upset.”
Mother perked up her ears. “Why is that?”
“Because of me,” Carly said.
Abby, her big sister, frowned. “What did you do to him?”
Carly jerked her head and glared at Abby. “I didn’t do anything. He’s mad because I got picked for Student of the Week.”
“Good going for Carly!” Shawn said. He was Jimmy’s Korean brother. His big brother.
Now Shawn was glaring at Jimmy. “Not good being mad at little sister,” Shawn said. He began to talk in Korean.
Jimmy covered his ears with his hands. “Carly make class wear green,” he whined. “She make us eat yucko green food.”
Abby and Shawn were laughing.
So was their mother, but not very long.
Their father spoke up. “Wearing green might be fun.”
“And just think of all the cool green foods there are,” said Abby.
“Yeah, like celery,” said Carly.
“And pears,” Shawn said.
“Yucko,” Jimmy said. His face was fussy.
“Spinach has a nice green color,” said their father. He was smiling now.
“So does broccoli,” said Mother.
“Lettuce is green,” said Carly.
“Yuck, yuck . . . yucko,” chanted Jimmy.
Their father frowned. “I want you to practice eating green foods. Starting right now, with your peas.”
Jimmy shot eye darts at Carly. He muttered something in Korean.
Then he picked up his spoon. One by one, he shot the peas across the table. Right at Carly!
Mother’s eyebrows popped up.
Father scooted his chair back. “Time out,” he told Jimmy. “Let’s have a talk in your bedroom.”
Jimmy’s face got all purple and red. Both colors at once. He said, “Excuse, please,” and left the table.
“Whew! He’s in big trouble,” Carly whispered.
Her mother put a finger to her lips. “Jimmy must learn to behave,” she explained.
“He’s a sour pie,” Carly said.
“Calling names won’t help,” Abby said.
Their mother agreed. “Let’s be kind.”
Carly nodded her head. Mother was always saying words like that. Good-citizen words.
“It’s not easy to be nice all the time,” said Carly.
“I understand,” said Mother. “But it’s good to keep trying.”
Carly blinked her eyes. “You should’ve seen Jimmy pouting at school.”
Mother patted her long curls.
“I wish Daddy would come to school on St. Patrick’s Day,” Carly muttered.
“What for?” Abby asked.
“To make Jimmy wear green,” said Carly. “And so he’ll eat a green lunch.”
“Who cares about that?” Abby said.
“I care,” said Carly. “It’s my special day!”
“You should hear yourself,” said Abby. “If Jimmy’s a sour pie, what’s that make you?”
“A sour SOMEBODY,” answered Carly. She sat up straight. She wiped her mouth with a napkin.
“Girls, girls,” their mother said.
Abby got up from the table and went to the sink.
Carly wondered what her sister was thinking. She probably thought Miss Hartman should change her mind. Maybe someone else should be Student of the Week. Someone not so sour!
“Am I a sweet girl?” Carly asked her mother.
“Most of the time,” Mother replied.
Abby returned to the table. “Nobody’s perfect,” she said.
“You think you are,” Carly whispered.
Abby frowned. “That’s not true!”
“Oh, really?” Carly felt a fuss coming.
So did their mother. “All right, you two. Clean up the kitchen.” She went to the living room.
Carly carried two dishes to the sink. She spied the water spray. She thought about spraying Abby.
When Abby wasn’t looking, she picked up the sprayer.
She aimed.
“Better not,” Shawn warned.
But Carly didn’t listen.
Swoosh!
Water splashed on the back of Abby’s head.
“Hey!” Abby shouted.
Carly dropped the sprayer and ran to her bedroom.
She closed the door and pushed against it. “I’m a sour Somebody,” she whispered to herself.
She waited for Abby to pound on the door.
No sound came.
She counted to twenty-five.
Still nothing.
But soon her mother’s voice came through the door. “I need your help in the kitchen, please.”
Slowly, Carly opened the door.
There stood her mother. And drippy Abby.
“Somebody needs to say ‘sorry,’” her mother said. “Then you may wipe up the kitchen floor.”
Carly did a gulp.
She was NOT a good citizen. Not one bit.
FOUR
It was Tuesday afternoon.
Art class!
Carly loved art.
She liked to daydream before she made a picture.
Daydreaming was like night dreaming. Except not quite. It happened when you were awake. It was the best kind of dreaming. Because you could plan it.
Well, sorta.
Carly stared out the art room window. Staring was a big part of daydreaming.
That’s when she got an idea.
It was a GREEN idea. Another one!
Tomorrow was her special day. It was also St. Patrick’s Day.
“I’ll make a Pinch Rule,” she whispered.
Dee Dee tapped her on the arm. “Who are you talking to?”
“Myself.”
“How come?” asked Dee Dee.
“I’ll tell you at recess.”
&n
bsp; “Tell me now,” Dee Dee insisted.
“OK,” Carly said. She whispered in Dee Dee’s ear.
“What?” Dee Dee asked. “I didn’t hear you.”
The art teacher was coming. Time to get to work.
“Tell ya later,” said Carly.
She picked up her sketch pencil. She made a picture of Quacker, one of her pet ducks.
Then Carly stopped drawing and looked at the sketch.
Sker-runch! She wadded up the paper.
She tried again. Her duck looked like a too-fat bowling pin.
Ducks are too hard, she decided.
So she daydreamed. And stared a lot.
She thought about tomorrow. She thought about the Pinch Rule.
Sour-Pie Jimmy was sitting across the room.
She stared at him, too.
He didn’t want to wear green tomorrow. He’d said so last night. He was going to spoil everything!
Now he was drawing something. He was working very hard.
When Jimmy looked up, she caught his eye.
Carly made a mad face. Capital M!
But Jimmy grinned back.
He held up his drawing. It was a clover leaf. A RED one.
Whoever heard of that?
Carly knew he was making fun of her green-day idea.
You’ll be sorry, she thought.
The Pinch Rule was going to be great.
By afternoon recess, everyone would know about it.
Especially Sour-Pie Jimmy.
Boy, was he gonna get it tomorrow!
At recess, Carly and Dee Dee made a circle. A tiny, secret circle. Just for two best friends.
Carly told her friend about the Pinch Rule. “Whoever isn’t wearing green gets pinched,” she said. “That’s the Pinch Rule.”
“Isn’t the whole class gonna wear green?” Dee Dee asked.
“Jimmy’s not,” Carly replied.
“Then he’s the only one who’s gonna get pinched,” said Dee Dee. But she wasn’t laughing.
“I know.” Carly grabbed a swing.
Dee Dee took the one next to her. “So why do you wanna have a Pinch Rule?” she asked.
Carly didn’t want to lie. That wouldn’t be a good citizen.
“Is it ’cause of Jimmy?” Dee Dee asked.
“Jimmy’s a sour pie. That’s what!” Carly leaned back in her swing. She made it go high into the sky.
“I thought you liked Jimmy,” Dee Dee shouted. “Ever since your parents adopted him, it’s been you and him. Good friends.”
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