Blubber

by Judy Blume

  Right after Mom left we decided we had to go to the bathroom. And the more we thought about it the worse we had to go.

  “We can ring the bell and ask Mr. Machinist,” I said. “He’ll have to let us use his bathroom.”

  “Never,” Tracy said. “I’d sooner die than ask him. I’m going right here.” She pointed to the ground.

  “Oh, Tracy … you can’t!”

  “Want to bet?” Tracy unbuckled her jeans and started pulling them down.”

  “Tracy … somebody might see.”

  “How?”

  I looked around. Tracy was right. It’s very woodsy in Mr. Machinist’s side yard. She crouched down next to a big tree. “Ah … that feels good,” she said.

  By that time I had to go so bad I was crossing my legs and shifting my weight from one foot to the other. So I undid my jeans too. I crouched like Tracy and watered a tree. “Oh, Mr. Machinist …” I sang softly. “This time you’re really getting what you deserve!”

  At three o’clock Mrs. Wu drove by with some juice and cookies. I showed her my blisters, one on each finger of my right hand, except for my pinky. Mrs. Wu took the First Aid kit from her glove compartment and rubbed some ointment on my blisters. She gave me enough Band Aids to cover them. “Your father’s coming to pick you up at five,” she told me.

  “Suppose we’re not done by then?” Tracy asked.

  “Just do the best you can,” Mrs. Wu said. “Nine to five is a long enough working day. Mr. Machinist will have to be satisfied.”

  We still had two small piles of leaves left when my father pulled up at five. My fingers were killing me and Tracy said she was ready to collapse.

  Dad looked around. He said, “You’ve done a good job, girls. I didn’t think you’d get so much done.” He walked toward the house and me and Tracy followed. We sat on the front step while my father rang Mr. Machinist’s bell.

  When the door opened Dad said, “I’m Gordon Brenner and I’m taking the girls home now. They’ve put in a long hard day and I think you’ll agree that they’ve done a fine job.”

  “Did they finish?” Mr. Machinist asked.

  “Just about.”

  “Did they learn their lesson?”

  Dad looked at me and Tracy.

  We nodded.

  “I’m sure they have,” my father told Mr. Machinist.

  “Good … that’s two more little brats I don’t have to worry about …

  “They are not brats,” my father said.

  “They are to me.” Mr. Machinist slammed his door right in my father’s face.

  “Damn it,” Dad muttered. “He really is a—”

  “I told you, didn’t I? I told you he deserved to get eggs in his mailbox.”

  “Hmph …” was all my father answered.

  When I got home I took a long, hot bath. I ached all over. I was too tired to eat any supper. I wanted to go straight to sleep. But then the phone rang. It was Great Maudie, calling from the station. I’d forgotten she was coming. While Mom drove down to pick her up I got comfortable on the sofa, with the pillow and blanket from my bed.

  Great Maudie moved in with one small suitcase and one big carton. When Kenny saw the carton he poked me and grinned. We both thought it was filled with presents for us. So of course we were surprised to find out it was full of food. There were bunches and bunches of carrots—not the kind Mom gets at the supermarket in plastic bags, but the kind that grow in the ground with green tops on them. There was also a whole mess of other vegetable stuff and boxes and jars of funny looking grains.

  “Since when are you on a health food kick, Maudie?” Dad asked.

  “Six months,” Great Maudie said, “and I’ve never felt better!”

  I yawned. Great Maudie sat down beside me. “What you need is vitamins, organically grown food, and plenty of exercise.”

  “I’m not sick,” I said, “… just tired.”

  “Jill’s had a hard day,” Mom explained.

  “Foo …” Great Maudie said. “At her age there’s no such thing.”

  Later we found out Great Maudie takes twenty-seven vitamin pills a day.

  “Are you sick?” I asked. “Is that why you swallow all those vitamins?”

  “Just the opposite,” Great Maudie said. “They keep me very healthy.”

  “You should give some to Grandma,” Kenny said. “She’s always got something wrong with her.”

  “Her troubles are up here.” Great Maudie tapped her head with one finger.

  Me and Kenny started laughing because that’s what Grandma says about Great Maudie—that she’s got something loose in her head.

  By the time I went to sleep I decided it would be fun having Great Maudie visit. She laughs a lot. She has a very nice laugh, big and deep.

  On Monday morning I changed my mind about her. She had cleaned out our pantry before I woke up. She threw away my Frosted Flakes, Alpha-Bits and Captain Crunch. She made us eat wheat germ mush instead. If this continues, I thought, I might starve to death in three weeks.

  16

  “If we’re going to do this,

  we’re going to do it right.”

  “Mr. Machinist found out about us,” I told Wendy on the bus. She didn’t look surprised. “And me and Tracy spent all day yesterday raking his leaves to make up for what we did.” I held out my hand and showed her the Band Aids covering my blisters.

  “I didn’t think she’d do it,” Wendy said. “I didn’t think she’d have the guts.”

  “Who?” Caroline asked. “Do what?”

  “Who do you think?” Wendy said.

  “Blubber?”

  “Naturally.”

  “She told?”

  “She’d tell on her own mother,” Wendy said.

  “Yeah …” Caroline agreed. “She probably would.”

  “We’ll get her for this,” Wendy told me. “We’ll really get her this time.”

  “I don’t want to be in on it,” Tracy said. “I promised my parents I’d stay out of trouble from now on.”

  “Who said anything about trouble?” Wendy asked. “It’s just that we can’t let her get away with it.”

  “Count me out,” Tracy said. “You can’t prove she’s the one who told on us.”

  “Of course she is,” Wendy said. “Who else would do it?”

  Tracy looked at Wendy and Caroline. Then she shrugged and turned away.

  “How dare you accuse us!” Wendy said.

  “She’s not accusing you … are you, Tracy?” I asked.

  “I’m not saying anything.” Tracy looked out the window.

  “If only we could be sure,” I tried to explain to Wendy. “I wish we could, but there’s no way …”

  “I don’t like what I hear, Jill,” Wendy said. “Do you like what you hear, Caroline?”

  “Not if you don’t,” Caroline told Wendy.

  “I know,” I said after a minute. “I know how we can find out the truth once and for all. We’ll have a trial! Just like in real life. With a judge and a jury and everything.” I glanced at Wendy to see what she thought of my idea. Personally, I thought it was great.

  Wendy smiled. “I’ll be the judge,” she said. “I’m a very fair person.”

  I was really glad to hear that Wendy liked my idea.

  “Can I be on the jury?” Caroline asked Wendy, as if she was in charge of the whole thing.

  “Naturally,” Wendy said. “You’re my best friend, aren’t you.”

  By the time our bus pulled into the driveway Wendy wasn’t mad anymore and everything was settled. She would be the judge, I would be the lawyer and Caroline, Donna, Irwin, Robby and Michael would be on the jury.

  “What do you think?” I asked Tracy, as we filed off the bus.

  “I think you’re scared of Wendy,” Tracy answered.

  Wendy planned everything. All we had to do was wait for the right moment. The only problem was, Linda didn’t come to school that day. And she wasn’t on the bus Tuesday or Wednesday mornin
g either.

  “She’s scared,” Wendy said. “She knows we’re going to get her and she’s scared to come to school.”

  “The smelly whale’s a chicken,” Caroline said.

  “We’ve always known that,” Wendy told her.

  Just as Mrs. Minish was about to take the attendance on Wednesday, Linda came running into the classroom. Wendy flashed me a sign.

  “My mother’s car wouldn’t start,” Linda told Mrs. Minish.

  “Did you miss the school bus?”

  “No … my mother’s going to drive me to school from now on,” Linda said, “and home too.”

  She really is scared, I thought. She really did tell on us.

  At ten o’clock it started to rain. At eleven, when Mr. Kubeck delivered our milk, it was pouring. By noon the playground and field were practically flooded. I knew we wouldn’t be able to go outside even if it stopped raining, which it didn’t.

  As soon as Mrs. Minish left the room for lunch period Wendy passed the word around that we’d have the trial today. We waited until Mrs. Horvath checked our room. “Keep it quiet,” she told us. “No talking above a whisper.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Horvath,” Wendy said.

  Robby got up and looked out into the hall. He gave us a signal when Mrs. Horvath had rounded the corner of the corridor. Then he closed our classroom door.

  Wendy stood on her desk and announced, “The trial of Blubber will begin.”

  Linda was drawing a picture on vanilla paper. She looked up when Wendy said that.

  “Did you hear me, Blubber? You’re on trial!”

  “I am not,” Linda said.

  Wendy laughed. “Oh yes you are. And I’m the judge.”

  “I don’t want to play that game,” Linda said.

  “It’s not a game,” Wendy told her. “You’re on trial for telling Mr. Machinist about Jill and Tracy on Halloween.”

  “I didn’t tell anything.”

  “Don’t lie, you smelly whale!” Wendy said. She got off her desk and stood close to Linda. She held up the picture Linda had been drawing, showed it to the rest of the class, then tore it in half.

  Linda looked around at us, then she jumped up so fast that she knocked her chair over backwards. She ran for the door.

  “Catch her,” Wendy yelled. “Don’t let her out of the room.”

  Robby and Irwin caught Linda and held on even though she was thrashing all around.

  “Get the keys to the supply closet,” Wendy told Caroline. “Quick …”

  “Where?”

  “Mrs. Minish’s top drawer.”

  Caroline ran to Mrs. Minish’s desk and fumbled around inside the top drawer. She held up a key. “Is this it?” she asked Wendy.

  “Yes … throw …” Wendy caught the key and unlocked the supply closet. “Get her in here,” she told the boys.

  Robby and Irwin shoved Linda into the closet. Then they slammed the door and Wendy turned the key, leaving it in the lock.

  “Let me out of here,” Linda called. Her voice was muffled.

  “Just shut up and listen to me, Blubber,” Wendy said. “You’re on trial for being a stool pigeon, a rat, a fink, and a tattletale. How do you plead … guilty or not guilty?”

  “Let me out of here!” Linda shouted.

  “Shut up!” Wendy told her. “How do you plead … guilty or not guilty?”

  “Not guilty,” Linda said. “Open the door … please!” She banged on it.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” Wendy began, “it is your job to decide if Blubber is lying.

  Frankly, as the judge, I’m sure she is. We will hear the evidence from Jill Brenner, the class lawyer.”

  “Open the door,” Linda called, just as I was about to begin giving evidence. “Open it or I’ll scream!”

  “You do and you’re dead,” Wendy said.

  Linda quieted down.

  “Hey … wait a second …” Rochelle said, and everybody turned to look at her because she never says anything. “Who’s Blubber’s lawyer?”

  “Blubber’s lawyer?” Wendy asked. “She doesn’t get a lawyer.”

  “Oh yes she does,” Rochelle said. “Every trial has two lawyers … one for the defense and one for the prosecution.”

  “Stay out of this, Rochelle,” Wendy said.

  I hit my head with my hand. “You know something … she’s right. We did forget to give Blubber a lawyer.”

  “I want a lawyer!” Linda cried, banging on the door.

  “I’m the judge here and I say we do it the way we planned.”

  “Look Wendy,” I began, “my father’s a lawyer and what Rochelle says is true. If we’re going to do this we’re going to do it right, otherwise it’s not a real trial. And since the trial was my idea in the first place I say she gets a lawyer!”

  “Are you done?” Wendy asked me.

  I nodded.

  “Good,” she said, raising her voice. “Because you’re ruining everything! You’re turning chicken just like your chink friend.”

  “Don’t you dare call Tracy a chink!”

  “I’ll call her whatever I damn please … and that’s what she is.”

  I glared at Wendy. Then I turned around and said, “Rochelle … you want to be Blubber’s lawyer?”

  “I’m not sure,” Rochelle said. “I’ll have to think about it.”

  From inside the supply closet Linda called, “Rochelle … please be my lawyer.”

  “Okay,” Rochelle said, “I guess I will. But I’ll need some time with my client to get the facts straight.” She stood up.

  “Stay right where you are, Rochelle!” Wendy said. “I’m running this trial.” She looked at me. “And don’t you forget it.”

  Rochelle waited to see what would happen next. And the rest of the class got very quiet. I thought about Tracy and how she said I’m scared of Wendy. And I thought about how worried I’d been on Monday, when Wendy got mad at me, and how good I’d felt when she wasn’t mad anymore. And then I thought about Linda. Right that minute it didn’t matter to me whether or not she had told on us. It was the trial that was important and it wasn’t fair to have a trial without two lawyers. So I faced Wendy and I said, “I’m sick of you bossing everyone around. If Blubber doesn’t get a lawyer then Blubber doesn’t get a trial.”

  “No lawyer!” Wendy folded her arms across her chest.

  “Then no trial!” I shouted, running to the supply closet. Before Wendy knew what I was doing I unlocked the door and flung it open. “Come out! I just cancelled your trial.”

  “You’ll pay for this,” Wendy told me. “You’ll be sorry you were ever born, Jill Brenner!”

  For the first time I looked right into Wendy’s eyes and I didn’t like what I saw.

  That afternoon Mrs. Minish said, “You’ve been such a nice, quiet class since lunch. I wish you’d act this way more often.”

  After school I went over to Tracy’s. She was cleaning out the chicken coop. “Need any help?” I asked.

  Tracy tossed me a broom and we swept together.

  “I’m not hanging around with Wendy anymore,” I told her. “She acts like she owns the whole world.”

  “I’ve always known that,” Tracy said.

  When the coop was clean Tracy picked up Friendly. “You want to hold him?” she asked.

  “You know I do.”

  We sat down on the back steps. I held Friendly close and stroked his feathers. We were quiet for a while. Best friends don’t have to talk all the time. Finally I said, “Tracy … do you think it was Linda who told on us?”

  “I’m not sure … it could have been … if she was mad enough.”

  I nodded.

  “Or it could have been Wendy and Caroline.”

  “Yeah … I guess you’re right,” I said. “It could have been.”

  “Or maybe even somebody else.”

  I thought about that. “Do you think we’ll ever find out the truth?”

  “Probably not.”

  Fr
iendly flapped his wings and I let go of him. He ran after a chicken and tried to climb on her back. “He wants to mate,” I said.

  “Oh him …” Tracy laughed. “That’s all he ever thinks about.”

  17

  “What’s with her?”

  Mrs. Wu drove us to school the next morning because Tracy’s project on the explorers was too big to carry on the bus. It barely fit into the car.

  I was really glad I didn’t have to take the bus because this way I wouldn’t have to face Wendy first thing. It’s hard not to be scared of her and the things she might do to me. I’ve made up my mind though. I will act the same as always except I’ll just ignore Wendy. That will teach her a lesson about threatening people. She’ll never make me feel sorry I was born.

  When I walked into class Linda was sitting in my place. “Your desk is over there now,” Wendy said, pointing to where Linda used to sit.

  “Who gave you permission to move my desk, Blubber?” I asked, ignoring Wendy, just like I’d planned.

  “Watch how you talk to my friend,” Wendy said. “Her name is Linda and don’t you forget it, B.B.”

  Everybody laughed. What did B.B. mean? And since when was Linda Wendy’s friend?

  Mrs. Minish came into the room. I went up to her. “Mrs. Minish … somebody moved my desk.”

  “Oh … the custodian is always moving desks around when he sweeps.”

  “Can I move it back where it belongs?”

  Mrs. Minish looked around the classroom. “Why don’t you move it next to Donna Davidson’s … there’s a space over there.”

  I went to my desk, stood the chair on top of it, and pushed it across the room, next to Donna’s desk. When I did, she moved hers away and whispered, “Who wants to sit next to B.B.”

  When it was time for gym, Mr. Witneski chose Bruce and Linda for the captains. Linda picked Wendy first. I waited and waited but nobody chose me for a team. When I was the only one left Linda told Bruce, “You get B.B.” And all the kids on Bruce’s team moaned.

  I’ll show them, I thought. I’ll show them all. I will play so good I’ll kick ten homeruns.

  But I didn’t. I kicked three fly balls right to Wendy and each time I did my team said, “What can you expect from B.B.?”