by Abby Hanlon
“I want to fly!!!”
“Yes, I see that,” Rosabelle says. “Actually, that’s a great idea. Batman can fight Gigi! What are your superpowers?”
“How about underwater breathing and . . . cross dimensional awareness?” I ask.
“Let’s keep this simple. How about super strength and super speed?” she says. “Don’t worry, I’ll train you.”
“Okay, sure,” I say.
“Let me write that down. Wait a minute, do you want to be called Batman or something else?” she asks.
“Hmmm,” I say. “Good question.”
“Batwoman?” suggests Rosabelle.
“How about . . . how about . . . how about . . . Captain Puff?” I ask.
“CAPTAIN PUFF!” shouts Rosabelle, jumping up and down with excitement. “YES!”
I try out my new Captain Puff voice. I say, “Some people don’t believe in superheroes because they haven’t met . . .”
But then Ridley returns. And he is wearing all my clothes. “Look at me! I’m a hiker! I hike mountains!”
“Those aren’t hiking clothes!” I say, standing on Rosabelle’s windowsill.
“Yes, they are! I’m a hiker!! Wherever I go, I hike!”
“Fine, go hike. Go on a nice long hike! Hike away!” Rosabelle says, and pushes him into the hallway. “He’s never gonna leave us alone. Let’s get out of here. We can go do your superhero training in the backyard.”
“Watch out below!” I say, jumping off the windowsill.
“Come on,” she says, grabbing my cape, “You can jump off the swings.”
• • •
But on our way out, we find Ridley in the hallway. He is playing with his toy cars wearing only a tutu and socks on his hands.
“Where are my clothes?” I ask him.
“Your hiking clothes?” he asks.
“My regular clothes! Where are they?”
I wait for an answer.
“Did you know I have two boxes of magnetic tiles in my classroom?”
“So what???” I say.
“He’s trying to change the subject,” says Rosabelle. “That means he did something really bad.” Rosabelle shakes her head and folds her arms. “Hmmm . . . We can ask my parents to help, but I don’t think we’re going to get them back.”
“’Cause they’re wet,” says Ridley.
“Why are they wet?” I ask.
“Is Sleeping Beauty a boy or a girl?” he asks. Rosabelle is starting to look really mad.
“Forget it, I don’t care about my clothes,” I say to Rosabelle. “Let’s just get away from him.”
But as we walk away, we hear Ridley’s voice. “I had one frog. Mrs. Gobble Gracker came in my room.”
Rosabelle and I freeze.
We turn around to listen. “Mrs. Gobble Gracker said, ‘That’s my frog,’ I said, ‘NO, that’s my frog.’ She said, ‘THAT’S MY FROG!’ And then I said, ‘Okay, you take the hiking clothes.’”
At first we are so confused we don’t say anything. Then Rosabelle shouts, “YOU LITTLE SPY!” Rosabelle looks so angry that if she were in a comic book, steam would be coming out of her ears.
“Come on, it’s okay,” I say, trying to pull her away. But her feet are crazy-glued to the ground. And her eyes are all fired up ready to go.
“YOU LITTLE NOSY BEAST!” she shouts, her face bright red. I had no idea Rosabelle could get this angry. I’m pretty sure she is, what my mom calls, “pushed over the edge.”
“YOU LITTLE . . . BUTT-BABY! YOU NOBODY-FACED-SHRIVELED-UP-RAISIN-BRAIN!” she shouts.
And then she attacks.
She pins Ridley to the ground and pulls off his sock hands. “I’M GOING TO RIP YOUR SMELLY SHRIMP HEAD AND SMASH IT INTO THROW UP.”
This is getting crazy. I don’t know what to do.
But Captain Puff does!
“Excuse me. Let Captain Puff handle this, please!” I say in my Captain Puff voice, shoving myself in between them.
“Come with me, boy,” I say, dragging him into his bedroom.
“Are you really Captain Puff?” he asks, breathless.
“Can you fit inside this hamper?” I ask him. “Because this is the safest place for you.”
“I think so,” he says.
“Climb right in, boy,” I say, helping him.
As I leave the room, I hear his small muffled voice from the hamper, “Excuse me, Captain Puff? It’s sort of uncomfortable because I’m sitting on some wet hiking clothes that fell in the toilet.”
• • •
When my mom picks me up, she asks me a million questions in the car. “Where was Rosabelle’s brother? I thought she had a little brother? And I don’t understand how nobody knows where your clothes are? Why did you put that costume—that is clearly way too small for you—on in the first place? It’s a size three, Rascal! That means it’s for three-year-olds. How on earth did you get it over your head? I feel terrible that we had to take their costume. We’re going to have to cut it off! With scissors. At least we left them the cape. Rascal, why do you do these things?”
“A hero does good for good,” I say in my Captain Puff voice. “Not for glory.”
CHAPTER 6
Little Robber
The first thing Violet says to me when she hears that I lost my clothes is, “Let me guess.Mrs. Gobble Gracker took them.”
“Yup,” I say. “She traded them . . . for a frog. I think that’s what happened?”
Then Luke and Violet start to tease me about my costume. They say I have a wedgie. They laugh so hard they can’t get up from the floor. I don’t know what a wedgie is, but I can tell it has something to do with my butt. This makes me stop feeling like a superhero. I have to sit down so that Luke and Violet can’t keep seeing my butt.
I won’t get up from the dinner table until I’m sure it’s safe.
“Rascal, can you just let me help you take off that costume, or are you going to make a super big deal out of it?” calls my mom from the living room. I don’t like either choice, so I don’t answer. Instead, I wait. And wait. And wait.
From the living room, my mom says, “We should really read together tonight. Remember . . . twenty minutes . . .” That’s the last thing she says before she closes her eyes.
When I’m sure she’s asleep, and the house is quiet, I sneak upstairs to my room.
“Presenting . . . Captain Puff!” I say, making the grand entrance I had been planning. Then I fly to the top of my dresser.
“Wow!” says Mary. “How did you become Captain Puff?”
“Because I had the best playdate ever!” I say.
“I had a playdate, too,” says Mary.
“How?” I ask.
“Gigi came over,” she says.
“Gigi??” I jump down from my dresser. “Did you say Gigi?????”
“She rang the doorbell,” says Mary.
“And you let her in????”
“She said she wanted to play.”
“What did you play?” I ask.
“Well, first she just wanted to make coffee, so we did that.”
“Yeah, and . . . then?”
“She drank a lot of coffee. A LOT.”
“Okay . . .”
“So she got really hyper.”
“What does that mean exactly?” I ask.
“Well, her eyes kind of bugged out and she started talking really fast and running around and touching everything. She banged into A LOT of things, and then she started doing cartwheels, although she’s HORRIBLE at them. She couldn’t even get her legs up. And then she banged on the piano and sang songs I’ve never heard of. I think she made them up. They were pretty weird.
“And then she found a HUGE AMOUNT of Post-its in the kitchen drawer and she ran around and stuck them all over the house
, in every room . . . on the windows, the walls, the furniture, on the phone . . . everywhere! And then she asked for a snack, but she was really picky about everything I offered her. She said she wanted soup, and I said, ‘We don’t have any soup right now,’ and then she threw a big fit, but in the middle of her fit, she got distracted by some crumbs on the kitchen floor and she started playing with them and talking to them in this very high baby voice, and then all of a sudden she ran upstairs to go to the bathroom. She was gone so long I thought she fell in the toilet, but when I came upstairs to look for her, she was gone. Your bedroom window was open. She must have climbed down the side of the house; I guess that’s how she likes to leave.”
“Where are the Post-its?” I ask.
“I cleaned them all up,” says Mary, smiling proudly.
“Wow. Mrs. Gobble Gracker is really a bonkers kid. What did you think?” I ask.
“It was so fun! I loved it!” says Mary. “I loved loved loved it! Can she come back tomorrow? Pretty please with a chair on top?”
“It’s ‘cherry,’” I say.
“I already invited her,” says Mary.
And then I remember Goblin. I jump up and open the closet.
The closet is empty.
“Where’s Goblin?” I ask Mary.
“I didn’t take him out,” she says. “I promise!”
“Then where’d he go?”
“I have no idea,” says Mary.
“It was Gigi!” I say. “That sheep stealer! I bet she snuck him out the window! I was right! Never trust a Gobble Gracker!”
The next morning at school, I tell Rosabelle and George the news.
“Gigi came to my house, went into my room, and stole my pet sheep!”
“That little thief!” says Rosabelle.
“She’s going to put pants on him!” says George.
“Pants?” says Rosabelle. “Who cares about pants? She could be making lamb stew out of him!!”
“What do I do?” I ask them.
“This is your chance, Rascal!” says Rosabelle. “You have to use your superhero powers to battle Gigi and save your sheep!” she says. “Oh . . . if only you still had the Captain Puff costume, that would be perfect.”
“Look,” I say, and unbutton my shirt so they can see. “My mom fell asleep and forgot about it.”
Rosabelle gasps. “You’re a genius!”
“That looks really uncomfortable,” says George.
That afternoon, George can’t wait to battle Gigi. He keeps raising his hand and asking if it’s quiet reading time yet, and the teacher keeps looking over at the pencil sharpener nervously.
When it’s finally reading time, George opens his book and says, “Captain Puff! You fly over the barn and grab the sheep! I’ll do my karate moves on Gigi.”
Just as I reach Goblin, I hear a voice. “Dory, can you read out loud to me for a few minutes?” asks my teacher.
Uh-oh.
“Dory, are you there?” I feel a hand on my shoulder. “I’d love to hear you read,” says the teacher, who pulls up a chair next to me.
“Okay,” I say.
When I read, the words get all crooked up. The words don’t make a story—it’s the opposite of a story. As I’m reading, I get hotter and hotter and hotter, and my Captain Puff costume feels tighter and tighter underneath my clothes. The teacher writes a whole page in her notebook. Then she pats me on the back and says, “Keep practicing. You’ll get there, honey.”
• • •
When the teacher’s gone, I’m quiet. I don’t want to play anymore.
“You play without me,” I tell George.
“But what are you going to do?” George asks. “Read?”
“Yes,” I say in a voice so quiet he can’t hear me.
• • •
That night, after dinner and just before bed, the doorbell rings. I look out the window and I see Gigi standing on the stoop.
I take off my nightgown. I’m still Captain Puff underneath.
“Hi, is Mary home?” asks Gigi when I open the door.
“You little robber! You stole my sheep!” I say.
“I know. It was so fun. I was so sneaky! Nobody saw me!”
With my super strength, I pick up Gigi. “Give me back my sheep, or I’ll fly you straight out of the universe and leave you there!”
“That sounds kind of fun,” she says.
So with my super speed, off we go.
“Last chance,” I tell her.
Goblin walks right past us. “Where is he going?” asks Gigi.
“Look . . . !” I whisper.
“Is that his family? All those white sheep? It can’t be!” says Gigi.
But when we see how much they love him, we know it is. This is where he belongs.
“Oh phooey!” says Gigi, and kicks some space dust.
“Um. Can I have a ride back?” asks Gigi.
I could just leave her here. But surrounded by the huge blackness of the universe, I notice how little she is. Maybe even smaller than me.
“Yeah, fine,” I grumble.
“That was super weird,” says Gigi, sitting on my stoop.
“Yeah, Goblin was really lost, huh?”
“He’s from another planet!” says Gigi.
“I’ll miss him,” I say. I sit down next to her.
“He was the greatest sheep I ever stole,” says Gigi.
The sky is dark. The stars are out. I take off my mask.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” I ask Gigi.
“The biggest robber ever! I can’t wait to grow up! I bet my nose will get even longer! I want to live in a cave and wear a long black—”
“Shhh. Be quiet for a second,” I say.
From the stoop, I can hear my parents’ voices through the open window in the living room. They are talking about me!
“Rascal’s teacher called today. She says Rascal is going to need extra help with reading,” I hear my mom say.
“I’m not surprised,” says my dad, laughing. “It’s because she never stops talking! How can a person learn to read when they are never quiet for a single second? If she’s not talking to us, she’s talking to herself!”
“Seriously,” says my mom, “I’m concerned. Luke and Violet were reading perfectly by the time they were her age. What are we going to do with her?”
I look at Gigi. I don’t want to cry in front of her. But I can’t help it.
“I gotta go,” says Gigi. “Tell Mary we can play another day.”
Upstairs in my room, after a lot of sweat and a couple of rips, I wiggle myself out of my costume.
I put on my nightgown. Without waiting for anyone to tuck me in, I crawl into my bed and fall asleep.
The next morning, I wake up extra early. One by one, I take my favorite books off the bookshelf. All alone, in the quiet of my room, I lie on the floor with my books. As the morning light slowly shines brighter and brighter through my window, I turn the pages and look carefully at the pictures. I look at the words carefully, too, and some of the words . . . I read.
CHAPTER 7
Hide-and-Seek Tag
The next day, when it’s time for reading, my teacher says she decided to make “a little change.” From now on, I have a new reading partner. And so does George.
I sit down next to my new partner. She turns to me and says, “I love the Happy Little Farm books, don’t you?”
“I guess so,” I say.
“Which one is your favorite? My favorite book is about the black sheep who gets lost,” she says.
“How did you know he was lost?” I ask.
“’Cause I read the book, silly,” she says.
“Can we read it together?” I ask her.
“Sure,” she says, smiling.
Later, at recess, Rosabelle is yelling her head off. “Dory! George! Come quick! Look over there.”
Gigi is in our school yard. Tangled in a jump rope.
“What is she doing here?” asks George.
“Oh no! She sees us!” says Rosabelle.
“Hi, guys!!!” says Gigi. “Want to tie up the pre-K kids with my jump rope?”
“Do you go to this school?” George asks her.
“Nope,” she says. “I don’t go to school.”
“Then why are you here?”
“’Cause I love recess!” she says. “Don’t you want to play with me?”
“NO WAY!” yells Rosabelle.
“Wait,” I tell Rosabelle. “It’s okay.”
First, I untangle Gigi from the jump rope. Then I say, “Maybe we’ll play, but it depends on the game.”
“Let’s play hide-and-seek tag!” says Gigi.
“Not it!” says George.
“Not it!” says Rosabelle.
“Not it!” I say.
“Okay,” I say to Gigi. “The stairs will be the base. We’ll go hide, and you close your eyes and count to twenty. Then we have to run to the base before you tag us.”
We all go run and hide.
From my hiding spot under the bench, I hear Gigi counting.
“It’s Mrs. Gobble Gracker!!!! AHHHHHHH! HEEEEELLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPP!”
Abby Hanlon (www.abbyhanlon.com) is a former teacher. Inspired by her students’ storytelling, she began to write her own stories for children, and taught herself to draw. She is the author of Ralph Tells a Story, Dory Fantasmagory, and Dory Fantasmagory: The Real True Friend. Abby lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband and their two children.
