JUSTINE McKEEN
POOPER SCOOPER
Sigmund Brouwer
illustrated by Dave Whamond
ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS
Text copyright © 2012 Sigmund Brouwer
Illustrations copyright © 2012 Dave Whamond
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Brouwer, Sigmund, 1959-
Justine McKeen, pooper scooper [electronic resource] / Sigmund
Brouwer ; illustrated by Dave Whamond.
(Orca echoes)
Electronic monograph.
Issued also in print format.
ISBN 978-1-55469-932-2 (PDF).--ISBN 978-1-4598-0317-6 (EPUB)
I. Whamond, Dave II. Title. III. Series: Orca echoes (Online)
PS8553.R68467J878 2012 jC813’.54 C2012-902630-1
First published in the United States, 2012
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012938310
Summary: In the third book in the Justine McKeen series, Justine leads a group of kids in cleaning up a park located across from the school board’s offices as part of a plan to get her school librarian back on the job.
Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.
Cover artwork and interior illustrations by Dave Whamond
Author photo by Reba Baskett
ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS
PO Box 5626, Stn. B
Victoria, BC Canada
V8R 6S4 ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS
PO Box 468
Custer, WA USA
98240-0468
www.orcabook.com
15 14 13 12 • 4 3 2 1
To all the story divas—you know who you are,
and you are proud of it!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter One
“This is great,” Justine McKeen said to Michael and Safdar. She sat on a bench, holding her new ebook reader. “My backpack is so empty without all my books.”
It was a beautiful fall day. Justine and her friends had stopped at the town’s Central Park on their way home from school.
“Guys?” she said, lifting her head.
Michael and Safdar were playing catch with a football. Jimmy Blatzo was sitting by himself on the grass in the middle of the park. He was looking at his own new ebook reader. Jimmy Blatzo often sat alone. Justine thought this needed to change.
She set her ebook reader on the bench. She ran and caught the ball.
“Interception!” she yelled and danced a victory dance.
“Hey!” Michael said. “We had a game going.”
“Hey!” Safdar said. “If I had caught that, I would have won.”
“Hey, yourself,” Justine said. “In a real game, people try to take the ball away. Nyah-nyah, booboo, crybabies.”
She laughed and ran through the park with the ball. Michael and Safdar chased her.
“Blatzo,” she called as she got close. “Go for the long bomb!”
“You’re a girl,” he said as he stood. “You can’t throw.”
She stopped and fired the football. He couldn’t catch it because he was holding his ebook reader. The football hit him in the stomach. He groaned loudly.
Michael and Safdar caught up to Justine. Jimmy Blatzo picked up the football and stomped toward them.
Justine said, “Bad catch, Blatzo. Run over there. I’ll let you try again.”
“How many times do I have to tell you?” he said. “Don’t call me Blatzo. People will think we are friends.”
Jimmy Blatzo had been the first one to call Justine the Queen of Green. Now everybody did. Justine McKeen really was a queen of green. And everybody except for Justine was afraid to disagree with Jimmy Blatzo.
“How many times do I have to tell you?” she said. “We are friends.”
“Michael and I won’t call you Blatzo,” Safdar said.
“We know we are not your friends,” Michael said.
Jimmy Blatzo looked at Michael and Safdar. “I didn’t give you permission to speak.”
“I forgot,” Safdar said.
“Me too,” Michael said.
“You are still speaking.” Jimmy Blatzo stopped and sniffed. “Hey, who stepped in dog poop?”
Justine checked the bottom of her shoes. Michael checked his shoes. Safdar checked his shoes. Jimmy Blatzo checked his shoes.
Nobody found dog poop on their shoes.
Justine sniffed and sniffed.
She walked behind Jimmy Blatzo. A big brown patch was smushed across Jimmy Blatzo’s butt.
“I was afraid of that,” she said. “You were sitting in it on the grass.”
Michael and Safdar were smart enough not to laugh.
Chapter Two
At school the next morning, Justine walked down the hallway before the bell rang. Jimmy Blatzo tapped her on the shoulder. “You didn’t tell anybody about the dog poop on my pants, right?”
“A promise is a promise,” Justine said. “But what’s the big deal if people find it funny?”
“It’s my job to scare people, not make them laugh.”
Two boys walked past. Jimmy Blatzo raised his arms like a monster and growled. The boys jumped and ran away.
“See?” he said. “Like that.”
“Nice,” she said. “Now come to the library with me.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Right after I slam a door on my fingers. Do you think I want people to see me walking with you? You’re a couple of grades younger than me.”
“I’m serious,” Justine said. “We need to do something about the dog poop in the park. Safdar told me that kids were making snowmen last winter and found little brown chocolate bars in the snow. Except they were not chocolate bars.”
Jimmy Blatzo laughed. “One kid didn’t know what it was. He used it for the snowman’s nose. Some of the dog poop melted in his mittens. His mother freaked. It was great!”
“No,” she said. “The kid’s mother was right. Dog poop is unsafe, especially for little kids. And it’s not good for the environment.”
Jimmy Blatzo frowned. “I see a problem here.”
“Thank you,” she said. “We’re going to write a letter to the paper about this.”
“That’s the problem,” Jimmy Blatzo said. “I knew you were going to make me help you with something.”
“Let’s get to the library before the bell rings,” Justine said. “Mrs. Reynolds can help us with our research.”
“Just google it,” Jimmy Blatzo said.
“You can’t believe everything you google.”
“I don’t even know where the library is,” he said.
“You spell your name B-L-A-T-Z-O, right?”
Justine said. “I won’t break my promise about telling anyone about the dog poop on your butt. But I can write a note. I don’t want to spell your name wrong.”
Jimmy Blatzo groaned as loud as he did when she hit him in the stomach with the football.
“Follow me,” she said. When they reached the library, it was locked and dark inside.
“Weird,” Jimmy Blatzo said. “Mrs. Reynolds is always here early. Sometimes she makes me tea. She always helps me find great books. She knows exactly what I like to read.”
“Ha!” Justine said. “I knew you knew where the library was. Let me guess, your job is to scare kids, not love books?”
Two girls walked past. Jimmy Blatzo raised his arms and growled. They giggled.
“Last week in the library, those two girls made me move out of the comfy reading chair so they could use it,” Jimmy Blatzo said. “They made me read them a story.”
Justine pointed at the sign on the window beside the door. It said, Until further notice, students must be with a teacher when they visit the library.
Jimmy Blatzo looked at Justine. “I see a problem here.”
“You’re afraid I’ll try to do something about this?” Justine said.
“No,” he said. “There really is a problem. The library is closed. We need to do something about this.”
“You’re right,” Justine said. “Some things are more important than dog poop.”
Chapter Three
Mrs. Reynolds lived in a brown house near the school. Her front yard had a lot of flowers. After school, Justine and Jimmy Blatzo knocked on her door. Mrs. Reynolds invited them inside. She made tea and served carrot cake with white icing. The three of them sat in her front room. There were books on the tables, on the chairs, on the floor and on the bookshelves.
“Do you like the new ebook readers?” Mrs. Reynolds asked Justine and Jimmy Blatzo.
“I love my ebook reader,” Justine said. “But I love treebooks too.”
“Treebooks?” Mrs. Reynolds asked.
“Paper books. Made from trees.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Reynolds said with a smile. “Tree books.”
“I love that ebooks use less paper, which means cutting fewer trees.”
Every student in Justine’s school had been given an ebook reader to keep until the end of the school year. It was going to save the school a lot of money because ebooks are cheaper than classroom textbooks.
“She is the Queen of Green,” Blatzo said, sipping his tea. “You probably don’t like ebooks, do you, Mrs. Reynolds?”
“I LOVE them,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “Before ebooks, when I read a chapter from Charlotte’s Web to a class, the students would all want to borrow it. But I only had one or two copies to lend. Now, when kids get excited about a story, all of them can have it as an ebook.”
“Except you’re not in the library anymore,” Justine said. “That’s why we are here. To find out why you aren’t in the library.”
“To save money,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “If the school cuts down on my time in the library, they don’t have to pay me as much.”
“I’m going to talk to our principal, Ms. Booth,” Jimmy Blatzo said. “That’s just wrong!”
“Ms. Booth is as sad as I am,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “It wasn’t her decision. It was the superintendent of all the schools, Mr. Ripley. The school board decided if the students all have ebook readers, librarians aren’t needed fulltime.”
“That is crazy,” Justine said. “Who is going to tell us about great stories? Who is going to help us with our research?”
“I wish there was something I could do,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “But Mr. Ripley doesn’t need to listen to me or the principal.”
“Who could make him change his mind?” Justine asked.
“Parents,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “But I think most of them believe schools don’t need librarians full-time either.”
“Oh no!” Jimmy Blatzo said. “We have another problem here.”
“What?” Mrs. Reynolds asked.
Blatzo pointed at Justine. “She’s got that look in her eyes. I only see it when she is mad and planning to do something about it.”
Chapter Four
Mr. Ripley looked up from a huge desk in the middle of a huge office with a huge window that overlooked Central Park. He wore a blue suit, a blue shirt and a blue tie. He was partly bald and had a mustache. The mustache wasn’t dark blue. It was black with gray tips.
Justine set down her backpack and sat across from him.
“I’m Justine McKeen,” Justine said. “Pleased to meet you.”
“You’re a student?” Mr. Ripley asked.
“Yes, and thank you for seeing me,” Justine said. She pointed out the window. “You have a nice view of Central Park.”
“You’re a student?” Mr. Ripley asked again. “In your email you said you were part of a large group of people worried about school libraries.”
“Yes, a very large group,” Justine said. “Do you have any idea how many students there are at my school?”
“Of course I do,” Mr. Ripley said. “That’s my job.”
“Mrs. Reynolds isn’t in our library anymore. The students hope you will change this. And as you know, we are a very large group. And we are a very large worried group.”
“Perhaps you should send your mom or dad here to speak with me.”
“I live with my Grammy,” Justine said. “She said if I came by myself, I would learn a good lesson. If that means I’ve learned you don’t care about what students think, then that is a good lesson. I plan to write an article about it in my school paper. All the other students should learn this lesson too. And they can tell their parents about it.”
Justine bent down. She took her digital camera out of her backpack. “When I submit the article, should I use the photo of you that’s on the school district’s website? Or should I take a new one?” Justine asked.
“If you think you can scare me with an article,” Mr. Ripley said, “you are wrong.”
“Did I say it was for my school paper?” Justine asked. “I meant the town paper. I know the reporter there. She wrote an article about the greenhouse our class built in the parking lot of Ice-Cream Heaven.”
Mr. Ripley snapped his fingers. “That’s right. You’re that girl. The Queen of Green. I’ve heard about the trouble you cause.”
“I don’t want to cause trouble,” Justine said. “I just want to talk to you about Mrs. Reynolds. We miss her.”
“Goodbye and good luck with your article,” Mr. Ripley said.
Chapter Five
Mr. Ripley stepped outside the school district’s building.
“Hi, Mr. Ripley,” Justine said. She pulled out her camera. “Could I record an interview with you on video?”
“No,” he said. “If you want to talk, put that away.”
She slipped it back into her backpack.
He looked at his watch. “Have you been waiting here since you left my office?”
“Yes,” she said. “But I had my ebook reader and a good story to read while I waited. By the way, thank you for the ebook reader. I heard it was your idea to make sure all the students were given one.”
Mr. Ripley nodded. “Instead of buying textbooks, we can use ebooks and save money. The savings will pay for the ebook readers and give schools extra money.”
“And it’s good for the environment,” Justine said. “Ebooks save treebooks, right?”
“I have to go home,” Mr. Ripley said. “Goodbye.”
“I am happy to walk with you to your car,” Justine said.
“I’m walking home. I live across from the park,” Mr. Ripley said.
“That is even better,” Justine said. “Maybe you will have time to answer something. Why do you need to cut back on the time Mrs. Reynolds spends in the library? If ebooks save you money, you should be able to pay her to be there more often.”
“I have to worry about a school’s entire budget,” Mr. Ripley said. He started walking across the park. “I can use the money saved here for somewhere else. Many school gyms need new gear.” Mr. Ripley stopped. “And let’s face it, we don’t need libraries as much. Most students jump on their smartphones to do their research.”
&
nbsp; “Do you also think we don’t need coaches in gyms?” Justine asked.
“I never said that. Ever. And don’t tell parents I said something like that. The phone calls I would get.”
“I agree,” Justine said. “We need gym teachers to show us how to use the gear. We need Mrs. Reynolds to help us with our research. The Internet doesn’t teach us that.”
Mr. Ripley started walking fast. “If we ever pulled coaches from gyms, the parents would be very mad. But they understand we have to pull librarians out of libraries. There isn’t enough money. That’s all I’m going to say. Now it’s time for you to leave me alone. Goodbye.”
“But—”
“But nothing. Goodbye.” Mr. Ripley glared at Justine and walked away.
“But you are about to step in a big pile of—”
It was too late. Mr. Ripley put his fancy leather shoe right in some fresh dog poop.
“Wow,” Justine said. “That must have been a big dog. A really big dog.”
The mess was around the side and overtop of Mr. Ripley’s left shoe.
He lifted his foot to stare at it.
Justine thought this was funny. She pulled her camera out.
“This is all your fault!” he said.
“A dog put it there, not me,” she said. “The owner should have used a pooper scooper to clean up after the dog.”
“There is dog poop all over this park,” he said. “If you want to solve something, solve this!” He pointed at his shoe.
Perfect. Justine snapped a photo of Mr. Ripley pointing at the dog poop on his shoe.
“That’s a great idea!” Justine said. “Thanks for everything, Mr. Ripley.”
Chapter Six
“All right, guys,” Justine said to Michael and Safdar. It had been one week since Mr. Ripley told Justine to leave him alone. “Cough it up. Ten bucks each.”
Justine stood beside their table in the cafeteria. She held a large plastic bag. Michael and Safdar were about to eat something that looked like chicken and beans. Nobody was sure if that’s what it really was.
Justine McKeen, Pooper Scooper Page 1
