Roscoe Riley Rules #7 Never Race a Runaway Pumpkin
Katherine Applegate
Illustrated by Brian Biggs
This book is for Julia and Jake
Contents
1 Welcome to Time-Out
2 Something You Should Know Before We Get Started
3 Something Else You Should Know Before We Get Started
4 Buzillions, Katrillions, and Other Cool Numbers
5 Ladders and Luck
6 How Big Is That Pumpkin in the Window?
7 Hello, Kitty!
8 Guesstimating
9 The Bad-Luck Magnet
10 Leaves Dropping
11 And the Winner Is…
12 Good-Bye from Time-Out
About the Author
Other Books by Katherine Applegate
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
1
Welcome to Time-Out
Hey, friend! Over here, in the time-out corner.
It’s me, Roscoe.
I’m pretty sure I only have to stay in time-out for about three more minutes.
That should be plenty of time for me to tell you how I ended up here.
Oops.
Mom checked the clock. Turns out I have seven more minutes.
I thought seven was supposed to be a lucky number!
My teacher says when you think a number is lucky, that’s called a superstition.
She says there’s no such thing as a lucky number.
And that seven is just like eight and forty-seven and a gazillion.
A plain, old, everyday number.
I used to think lots of things were lucky.
Things like numbers and four-leaf clovers and horseshoes.
I used to think lots of things were unlucky, too.
That’s sort of how I ended up in time-out.
One thing led to another, and before I knew it, I was being chased down the street by a humongous pumpkin.
And let me tell you, those guys can MOVE.
You’ve been chased by a giant piece of food before, haven’t you?
No?
How about normal-size food?
Not even a little bitty grape?
Oh.
I guess being chased by food doesn’t come up all that often.
But I can explain everything.
Have you got seven minutes to spare?
2
Something You Should Know Before We Get Started
When a kitty rubs her face on your leg, she is just saying hello.
It does not mean she is wondering how you will taste for dinner.
3
Something Else You Should Know Before We Get Started
A pumpkin is a fruit. Not a vegetable.
It’s a true fact. I learned it at school.
But take it from me. When the biggest pumpkin in town is about to smush you into a pumpkin-boy pie, you don’t really care if it’s a fruit or a vegetable.
You just want to get out of its way.
4
Buzillions, Katrillions, and Other Cool Numbers
Sometimes I wish I hadn’t gone to the school library last week.
Then I never would have seen the giant pumpkin that got me into so much trouble.
Don’t get me wrong. I love our school library.
It’s the most fun place in my school.
Except maybe for the playground.
Our library has maps. And DVDs. And CDs. And computers.
But most of all, it has tons of books.
My class goes there twice a week for story time.
Our story-time area is shaped like a little pirate ship. On the deck are lots of squishy pillows.
Mr. Page is the library helper who reads to us.
He has the best name for a library guy, I think.
Although Mr. Shhh would be good too.
When Mr. Page reads, he wears a black eye patch like a real pirate.
Also, he says, “ARGHH, me hearties!”
Which is Pirate for Hello, kids!
This time Mr. Page was wearing an orange eye patch, though.
On account of the book he was going to read to us was about pumpkins.
“Okay, folks,” said Mr. Page. “Today’s book is called Pumpkin Power. It’s full of fun facts about pumpkins.”
He held up the book. The cover had a picture of a giant pumpkin on it.
“Before we start reading,” said Mr. Page, “I want to tell you about an even bigger pumpkin!”
He unrolled a poster.
There was a photo of a boy and a girl on it.
They were each holding a book. And smiling.
And next to them was the most gigantic pumpkin I had ever seen. It looked huge!
It was as tall as my dad.
Almost.
And as big as our car.
Almost.
“That’s got to be the world’s biggest pumpkin,” I cried.
“Actually, giant pumpkins can reach over one thousand six hundred pounds,” said Mr. Page. “This one is gigantic, all right. But it’s not that big.”
“Any kind of gigantic is good, if you ask me,” I said.
“This poster is from Hilltop Bookstore,” Mr. Page said. “They’re having a contest. If you guess the weight of the giant pumpkin in their window, you win books for the school library. Enough to fill that giant pumpkin!”
“That’s a lot of books!” said Emma.
“You’re right, Emma. And we sure could use them,” said Mr. Page. “You can make a guess when you visit the bookstore. The winner will be announced at the Fall Festival on Saturday.”
“I’ll bet that pumpkin weighs two hundred buzillion pounds!” Hassan said.
“Nunh-uh,” said Gus. “Seven thousand katrillion pounds, at least.”
Emma said, “I’m not sure if buzillion and katrillion are for-real numbers. But googol is a real number, right, Ms. Diz?”
Ms. Diz is our first-grade teacher.
She knows lots of math and spelling.
And also how to wiggle her ears.
“Googol is a number, Emma,” Ms. Diz said. “A very big number. It has one hundred zeros in it!”
“That pumpkin is for sure a googol pounds then,” I said.
“Children,” said Ms. Diz, “maybe we should work on estimating how much things weigh. It could be a wonderful learning opportunity.”
When Ms. Diz says learning opportunity, she gets very excited.
She is a brand-new teacher, so she likes to try out new ideas on us. Mostly that is a good thing.
But once she let us make marshmallow crispies so we could learn about measuring.
After that Learning Opportunity, she had to send home a letter to all the parents about How to Wash Marshmallow Goo out of Your Child’s Hair.
“Kids, I forgot to mention that the contest winner also gets a prize,” added Mr. Page. “Candy. Lots of it. Enough to fill the pumpkin.”
“A googol pounds of candy!” said Gus.
He had a goofy smile on his face.
I probably did too.
“ARGHH, me hearties!” said Mr. Page in his pirate voice. “It’s time to read!”
He held up the book so we could see the first page.
“‘You may think that a pumpkin is a vegetable,’ he read. “‘But it’s really a fruit, because it has seeds inside of it.’”
Hmm, I thought. It was a very interesting fact.
But not nearly as interesting as the news about the contest.
Mr. Page kept on reading about pumpkins. He talked about giant pumpkins, tiny pumpkins, pumpkin seeds, and pumpkin pie.
My ears tried to pay attention
.
But my brain kept thinking how nice it would be to win books for the library.
And candy for me.
5
Ladders and Luck
When we walked into our classroom the next morning, there were pumpkins on Ms. Diz’s desk.
A little one and a medium one.
Also there was an apple, a grape, a rock, and a quarter.
Not only that, Mr. McGeely, the janitor, was high up on a ladder in a corner of the room.
He was changing the long lightbulbs.
Pumpkins and lightbulbs!
It was going to be an amazing morning.
“Class, I know a lot of you were interested in the giant pumpkin Mr. Page told us about yesterday,” said Ms. Diz. “That’s why we’re going to learn about how to guess weight today. We call it estimating.”
Mr. McGeely climbed down from the ladder.
“Replaced all the burned-out lights, Ms. Diz,” he said.
“Wonderful,” said Ms. Diz. “It’s much brighter in here.”
It was true. You could see all kinds of things.
On the floor I saw a black crayon and a ball of dust shaped like a kangaroo.
And then I saw a penny!
Right under Mr. McGeely’s ladder.
Gus saw it too. He made a dive for it.
Gus was halfway under the ladder before I could grab his shirt.
“Gus, no!” I cried. “You can’t go under a ladder! It’s seven years of bad luck!”
“No, that’s if you break a mirror,” Hassan said.
“I think seven years of bad luck is when you step on a crack,” Coco said.
“That’s for breaking your mom’s back,” Maya said. “Everybody knows that!”
“Excuse me!” Gus interrupted. “We’re talking about a free penny here!”
He grabbed for the penny. But I held on tight and slid him back.
“Maybe it’s a lucky penny, Roscoe,” Gus said.
“But going under the ladder would erase the lucky and turn it to unlucky,” I said.
“Hmm,” said Ms. Diz. “I think I see another wonderful learning opportunity.”
Two learning opportunities in two days!
No wonder Ms. Diz had such a gigantic smile on her face.
“Children,” said Ms. Diz. “Roscoe was worried that if Gus went under a ladder it would be unlucky. But believing that something can cause good luck or bad luck is what we call a superstition. Can anyone think of a good reason why walking under a ladder would make bad luck happen?”
“If there was a guy on it painting and the bucket of paint fell on your head,” Wyatt said.
“Well, yes,” said Ms. Diz. “That would definitely be bad luck. But—”
Coco raised her hand. “I might have my room painted magenta,” she said. “That is what you get when you mix red and blue together.”
“Magenta is a very interesting color,” said Ms. Diz. “But let’s try to stay focused on superstitions. Roscoe, what made you think that going under a ladder would be bad luck?”
“My Uncle Ed told me. He knows lots of good superstitions. And he gave me my lucky four-leaf clover. After I got it, the same day I found an old sucker in my pocket and it was only just a little bit fuzzy. So how lucky was that?”
“Pretty lucky,” Ms. Diz agreed.
But I had the feeling she was not a big fan of fuzzy suckers.
Ms. Diz drew a picture of a four-leaf clover and an umbrella on the blackboard.
“Some people believe things bring good luck,” she said. “And some people believe doing certain things will bring bad luck. Like opening an umbrella in the house. Or breaking a mirror. But superstitions aren’t based on fact, and they aren’t real.”
“My mom broke a mirror in her purse,” Maya said. “And then she tripped on my sister’s skateboard and broke her toe.”
“But that could have happened even if she hadn’t broken a mirror,” said Ms. Diz.
Emma raised her hand. “My neighbor had a black cat cross in front of her in the park. Then she went to a minigolf place and found a green beetle in her corn dog. She blamed the black cat.”
“And I’ll bet you told her that didn’t make any sense,” said Ms. Diz.
“No,” said Emma. “I told her not to order the corn dog next time. The very next day she fell in a mud puddle. And after that a skunk got in her kitchen and she had to move out of her house for a week because of the smell.”
“Wow,” I said. “Black cats really are bad luck!”
“Roscoe,” said Ms. Diz, “in many countries, black cats are considered good luck. But the truth is, black cats are not good luck or bad luck. Neither are green kangaroos or purple alligators.”
“I know you’re the teacher and all,” I said, “but I’m pretty sure alligators don’t come in purple.”
“Let’s try this another way,” Ms. Diz said. “Emma, do you think the black cat caused your neighbor’s problems?”
Emma made a not-sure look.
I know that look. I maybe even invented it.
“How many of you think the black cat caused Emma’s neighbor to eat a green beetle and fall in a mud puddle and have a skunk in her house?” Ms. Diz asked.
We all raised our hands.
“How many of you think Maya’s mom tripped on a skateboard because she broke a mirror?” Ms. Diz asked.
We all raised our hands again.
“How many of you think I should paint my room magenta?” Coco asked.
Ms. Diz had that I-need-a-nap look she sometimes gets, but usually not until the end of the day.
She took a deep breath. “Maybe we should move on to a different learning opportunity,” she said.
6
How Big Is That Pumpkin in the Window?
After school my mom picked up Max, my big brother, and me so we could go to the store to get new jeans.
All my knees had holes again.
My little sister, Hazel, was in her car seat. She was wearing fairy wings, her swimsuit, pajama bottoms, and yellow mittens.
The usual.
“Hazel, your socks don’t match,” Max said.
“Neither do Roscoe’s,” she pointed out.
“The red one is my lucky sock,” I said. “When I wear it on my right foot, something good always happens.”
“Remind me to wash that one of these years,” Mom said.
“So what good thing happened today because of your red sock?” Hazel asked.
“Nothing yet,” I admitted. “But if Mom will take us to the bookstore, I think something wonderful might happen.”
I gave Mom my sweetest smile.
It takes all my smile muscles.
“Mom, can we go to the bookstore after we buy clothes?” I asked. “I need to weigh a giant pumpkin.”
Mom looked at me in the rearview mirror. “Could you run that by me again?”
I explained all about the pumpkin and the bookstore and the school winning lots of books.
I kind of forgot to mention the part about me winning a googol pounds of candy.
Mom said yes. Not even “We’ll see” or “Maybe some other time, Roscoe.”
We drove to a giant store called the Clothes Closet. It has pants and socks and underwear and other stuff that wears out.
It is also probably the most boring place on the planet.
Finally it was time for the bookstore.
Hilltop Bookstore was at the very tip-top of a big hill.
Mom parked the car at the bottom of the hill near a statue of our town founder, Thomas Toadswaddle.
It’s a very big statue made of metal.
He is wearing an old-fashioned hat. And holding a porcupine.
Nobody knows why.
I guess he just liked porcupines.
We walked past the statue and up the hill. Max and Hazel and I beat Mom to the bookstore.
There it was at last. The giant pumpkin.
It was beautiful and big and very orange.
&nb
sp; It was the size of a baby dinosaur.
Or maybe a teenager elephant.
We made whoa and no way sounds.
Max whistled. I tried to whistle, but my whistle has more spit than whistle.
Then Hazel told Mom I was spitting on her.
Which was true. But it doesn’t count as real spitting if it’s whistle spit. And not on purpose.
When we got inside, the bookstore clerk said, “I saw you checking out our pumpkin. Would you like to guess its weight?”
“You bet!” I said.
“Just write down your guess, and be sure to include your name and phone number,” said the bookstore guy, whose name was Dan.
It said so on his name tag.
Sometimes knowing a little about reading comes in very handy.
“I guess fifteen pounds because that’s how old Rachel is and she is my favorite babysitter,” Hazel said.
“Okay, Hazel,” said Mom. “Fifteen pounds it is.”
Mom wrote down Hazel’s guess for her.
Then Max wrote his.
Mom read the contest rules. “If one of you kids wins, you are all sharing the candy prize,” she said. “And you’re making it last five years.”
“Mommy, can I look at the pop-up books?” Hazel asked.
“Sure,” said Mom. “Roscoe, we’ll just be over in the children’s books. Take your best guess, sweetie.”
I walked back and forth past the giant pumpkin.
I looked it up and down.
I knocked on it. I even sniffed it.
Max groaned. “Just write down some number, Roscoe. It’s not like you’re actually going to win.”
Big brothers should come with a set of earplugs.
It is hard to keep your candy-and-books dream alive when they are around.
I touched my lucky red sock for good luck.
Then I closed my eyes and waited to see if the perfect number popped into my brain.
Never Race a Runaway Pumpkin Page 1
