Junie B. Jones and That Meanie Jim's Birthday

by Barbara Park

  All of a sudden, someone yanked the bag right off my head.

  It was the scary typing lady.

  “…pants,” I said very soft.

  She took me back into Principal’s office.

  And guess what?

  That Jim was in there!

  He was sitting in the big wood chair!

  And Principal was frowning at him!

  “Junie B., our friend Jim here has something he wants to say to you. Don’t you, Jim?” asked Principal.

  That meanie Jim didn’t answer. He kept on looking at his feet.

  Principal tapped his fingers.

  “We’re waiting, Jim,” he said.

  Then that Jim did a huffy breath. And he said the words I’m sorry.

  Principal raised up his eyebrows.

  “Sorry for what, Jim? Tell Junie B. what you’re sorry for.”

  That Jim stared at his feet some more.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t give her an invitation to my party,” he said very grumpity.

  “But your mother told you to, didn’t she, Jim?” said Principal. “Your mother told you to give an invitation to every single person in your class. But you got mad at Junie B. And you decided not to give her one. Isn’t that right?”

  That meanie boy did his shoulders up and down.

  “I guess,” he said real soft.

  Principal crossed his arms.

  “And so what are you going to do to correct the problem?” he asked.

  That Jim waited and waited.

  Then—all of a sudden—he got down from his chair.

  And he holded out an invitation to me.

  My stomach did a flippy flop.

  “For me? Is that really for me!” I said very squealing.

  Then I snatched that thing right out of his hand. And I zoomed all around the room.

  “Oh boy!” I said. “It’s really for me! It’s really for me! And so now I’m not the only one!”

  I zoomed all around the big wood chair.

  Principal looked nervous of me.

  He hurried up and opened his door.

  Then I zoomed right out of there!

  And I didn’t stop till I got to Room Nine!

  8/Ruining My Saturday

  On Saturday, Mother woke me up from sleeping.

  “We have to go to the store and buy Jim a present,” she said.

  I did a sleepy yawn.

  “Yeah, only I don’t actually like that boy,” I explained. “And so you can go by yourself. And I will trust your judgment.”

  I pulled the covers over my head.

  Mother pulled them off again.

  Then she made me get dressed.

  And she made me eat a banana.

  And she made me go to the store with her.

  She holded my hand and pulled me behind her.

  “Since we don’t know what he already has, let’s get him something unusual,” she said.

  “Let’s get him greasy, grimy gopher guts. That is unusual,” I said.

  Mother made a sick face.

  She pulled me through the store.

  We went past the bathroom stuff.

  I pointed.

  “That. Let’s get him that,” I said. “That is unusual.”

  Mother sucked in her cheeks.

  “We’re not getting him a toilet brush,” she said.

  She pulled me past the pet stuff.

  “That. Let’s get him that,” I said. “That is unusual.”

  But Mother said, “No choke chain.”

  Just then, she pulled me past the tools.

  That’s when my eyes popped right out of my head!

  “THAT! LET’S GET HIM THAT! LOOK, MOTHER! LOOK! I LOVE THAT THING!”

  I runned to it speedy quick.

  “IT’S A TOOL BELT! SEE? IT’S JUST LIKE GRAMPA MILLER’S! ONLY IT’S MADE FOR LITTLE CHILDREN LIKE ME! SEE IT, MOTHER? SEE THIS WONDERFUL THING!”

  Mother took it down off the shelf.

  “Look!” I said. “It has a hammer! And a screwdriver! And some pliers! And a flashlight! And a real actual level with a bubble in it! Plus also, there’s a pocket with nails in the front.”

  I jumped all around.

  “Can I try it on? Can I? Please, Mother? Please? Please?”

  Mother shook her head no.

  “We’re not shopping for you today, Junie B. We’re shopping for Jim, remember?”

  “I know it. I know we are shopping for that Jim,” I said. “And so this can be for his birthday. Only first I have to try it on to see if it fits. ’Cause him and me are both the same size, I bet!”

  Finally, Mother fastened the tool belt on me.

  “Oooo! It has Velcro!” I said. “I love this stickery stuff! Can we buy it? Please, Mother? Can we buy it? And take it home to my house?”

  Mother thought and thought.

  “I don’t know, Junie B. Something tells me this isn’t a good idea. I’m afraid you’ll want to keep it.”

  “No, I won’t! I won’t want to keep it. I promise, Mother! I promise! I promise!”

  And so finally Mother gave in to me. And she bought the wonderful tool belt.

  I held it on my lap all the way home in the car.

  Then I runned into the house. And I zoomed to my room. And I put that thing on me again.

  “Now I can do odd jobs!” I said real thrilled.

  I took the hammer and tapped on my wall.

  Then I screwed a screw with the screwdriver.

  Plus also, I twisted my Teddy’s nose off with the pliers. Only I actually didn’t mean to do that one.

  I patted his head.

  “Breathe through your mouth,” I said.

  Just then, Mother’s voice hollered to me.

  “JUNIE B.! IT’S TIME TO TAKE YOUR BATH, HONEY!”

  I did a frown. ’Cause Mother was a little mixed up, I think.

  I hollered back.

  “YEAH, ONLY I DON’T EVEN HAVE TO TAKE A BATH TODAY! ON ACCOUNT OF TODAY IS SATURDAY! AND SATURDAY IS MY DIRTY DAY!”

  Mother came in my room.

  “I know today is Saturday, Junie B.,” she said. “But you’re going to a birthday party. And when you go to a birthday party, you have to take a bath. Plus we’re going to have to wash and curl your hair.”

  I backed up from her.

  “No,” I said. “’Cause nobody even explained that to me before. And so that doesn’t even make sense. On account of I hate that meanie kid. So how come I have to get clean for him?”

  Mother looked at the end of her rope.

  “When you go to a party, you take a bath. Period. End of discussion,” she said.

  Then she left my room. And she went to start the tub.

  I sat on my bed very glum.

  “Darn it,” I said. “’Cause that stupid boy is ruining my whole entire Saturday.”

  Mother hollered some more.

  “JUNIE B.? COULD YOU BRING ME THE TOOL BELT, PLEASE? I NEED TO GET IT WRAPPED!”

  “Darn it,” I said again.

  ’Cause I didn’t even want to give that to him.

  I looked down at it.

  I touched all the wonderful tools.

  “I love this darned thing,” I said real sad.

  “I’M WAITING!” shouted Mother.

  But I still didn’t take it to her.

  Just then, I heard the bath water turn off.

  My heart got very pumpy.

  “Oh no!” I said. “’Cause now she’s gonna come get me! And she will take my tool belt away! And she will wrap it up for that meanie guy!”

  I jumped off my bed and runned around my room.

  “I gotta hide! I gotta hide!”

  I runned all over everywhere.

  “Darn it! ’Cause there’s not even a good hiding place in this dumb room!” I said.

  “JUNIE B.!” Mother screamed.

  I heard her feet!

  They were coming for me, I think!

  “Oh no!” I said. “Oh no! Oh no!”
<
br />   Then all of a sudden, I quick grabbed my wonderful tool belt!

  And I zoomed to my door!

  And I nailed that thing shut with my hammer!

  9/The Only One in Room Nine

  Mother runned into my room.

  She pushed right through my nails.

  “JUNIE B. JONES! WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?” she shouted.

  She looked at my door.

  Her eyes got very bulging.

  “YOU WERE HAMMERING?” she yelled. “YOU WERE HAMMERING NAILS???…IN YOUR DOOR?”

  Just then Daddy runned in, too.

  “WHERE IN THE WORLD DID YOU GET A HAMMER?” he yelled.

  “Tell him, Junie B.! Tell your father where you got the hammer!” growled Mother.

  I pointed at her.

  “She gave it to me,” I said.

  Just then, steam came out of Mother’s head.

  “NO! I DID NOT GIVE YOU THAT HAMMER, JUNIE B.! THAT HAMMER WAS FOR JIM! AND YOU KNOW IT!”

  After that, Mother picked me up. And she sat me on my bed. And she growled more mad words at me.

  They were…I cannot be trusted to have a real actual hammer. And I cannot be trusted to have a real actual tool belt. And I am never ever allowed to have nails until I am all grown up and I live in my own apartment.

  Daddy walked up and down in front of me.

  “Why, Junie B.? Why would you do such a thing? Why would you ever nail your door shut?” he said.

  I started to cry a little bit.

  “Because,” I said.

  “Because why?” he grouched.

  “Because I felt pressure inside me,” I said. “Because that party is ruining my whole entire Saturday. Because first I had to shop. And then Mother said I had to get a bath and wash my hair. Only I don’t even like that meanie head boy. And so how come I have to get clean and give him that wonderful tool belt? ’Cause what kind of deal is that?”

  Mother did an angry breath.

  “This was your decision, Junie B.,” she said. “You’re the one who wanted to go to the party. No one is making you do it.”

  I wiped my nose on my sweater sleeve.

  “Yeah, only if I don’t go, I will be the only one in Room Nine,” I said. “And that is the saddest story I ever heard of.”

  Daddy sat down next to me.

  “Why?” he said. “Why is it sad to spend your Saturday the way you want to spend it? Why is it sad to spend the day having fun, instead of wasting it on a boy you don’t like?”

  Mother sat down, too.

  “That doesn’t sound sad to me,” said Mother. “That sounds good, in fact.”

  “No, that does not sound good,” I said very snapping. “What is so good about being the only one?”

  Daddy did his shoulders up and down.

  “Lots of things,” he said. “Like you’ll be the only one who doesn’t have to take a bath. Have you ever thought of that?”

  “And you’ll be the only one who doesn’t have to wash her hair,” said Mother.

  “And,” said Daddy, “you’ll be the only one in Room Nine who doesn’t have to give Jim a present. How ’bout that one? Huh?”

  I sat up a little bit straighter.

  ’Cause that one was excellent, that’s why.

  Mother ruffled my hair.

  “And what about Grampa Miller?” she asked. “You haven’t forgotten that he invited you to his house today, have you?”

  Just then, my whole mouth came open.

  ’Cause I did forget about that!

  “The toilet!” I said. “I forgot about the toilet! ’Cause me and Grampa were going to fix that thing! And we were going to touch that big ball that floats on top!”

  Mother made a face.

  “Lovely,” she said.

  “I know it is lovely,” I said. “And so I have to get over there right now. Or else Grandma is gonna get to touch it, and not me.”

  Then Mother looked at me very strange.

  And Daddy went to get his keys.

  Mother and Daddy made me take the tool belt back to the store.

  They made me give it to the man.

  “Here,” I said. “I cannot be trusted with this wonderful thing.”

  The man smiled kind of sad.

  “Sorry, sis,” he said.

  “That’s okay,” I said. “’Cause the nails didn’t actually work that good.”

  He gave me my money back.

  “Maybe when you’re older,” he said.

  “Maybe,” I said. “Plus also I might get a toilet brush.”

  After the store, I went to my Grampa Miller’s.

  He was working in his garden.

  I ran my fastest at him.

  “GRAMPA MILLER! HEY, GRAMPA MILLER! DID YOU FIX IT YET? DID YOU ALREADY FIX THE TOILET?”

  He twirled me around.

  “Not yet!” he said. “Not yet I didn’t! I’ve been waitin’ for you!”

  And so just then, me and him hurried up. And we got our tools. And runned upstairs.

  Then we took the lid right off that thing!

  And I flushed all the water right out of it!

  And I touched the big ball!

  “This is fun! Right, Grampa? Right? This is the time of our life!” I said.

  “Sure it is! Of course it is!” said my grampa Frank Miller.

  I laughed very happy.

  “Hey, Grampa. Guess what? I am the only one!” I said.

  He looked confused at me.

  “I am the only one in Room Nine who is fixin’ a toilet!” I explained.

  Then Grampa Miller laughed, too. “You’re really somethin’,” he said.

  “You’re really somethin’, too, Grampa,” I said back.

  Then I hugged him real tight.

  And I climbed up on his lap.

  And I told him a secret in his ear.

  “And guess what else?” I whispered. “I still would like a goat.”

  Laugh out loud with Junie B. Jones!

  #1 Junie B. Jones and the Stupid Smelly Bus

  #2 Junie B. Jones and a Little Monkey Business

  #3 Junie B. Jones and Her Big Fat Mouth

  #4 Junie B. Jones and Some Sneaky Peeky Spying

  #5 Junie B. Jones and the Yucky Blucky Fruitcake

  #6 Junie B. Jones and That Meanie Jim’s Birthday

  #7 Junie B. Jones Loves Handsome Warren

  #8 Junie B. Jones Has a Monster Under Her Bed

  #9 Junie B. Jones Is Not a Crook

  #10 Junie B. Jones Is a Party Animal

  #11 Junie B. Jones Is a Beauty Shop Guy

  #12 Junie B. Jones Smells Something Fishy

  #13 Junie B. Jones Is (almost) a Flower Girl

  #14 Junie B. Jones and the Mushy Gushy Valentime

  #15 Junie B. Jones Has a Peep in Her Pocket

  #16 Junie B. Jones Is Captain Field Day

  #17 Junie B. Jones Is a Graduation Girl

  #18 Junie B., First Grader (at last!)

  #19 Junie B., First Grader: Boss of Lunch

  #20 Junie B., First Grader: Toothless Wonder

  #21 Junie B., First Grader: Cheater Pants

  #22 Junie B., First Grader: One-Man Band

  #23 Junie B., First Grader: Shipwrecked

  #24 Junie B., First Grader: BOO…and I MEAN It!

  #25 Junie B., First Grader: Jingle Bells, Batman Smells! (P.S. So Does May.)

  #26 Junie B., First Grader: Aloha-ha-ha!

  #27 Junie B., First Grader: Dumb Bunny

  Top-Secret Personal Beeswax: A Journal by Junie B. (and me!)

  Junie B.’s Essential Survival Guide to School

  Text copyright © 1996 by Barbara Park

  Illustrations copyright © 1996 by Denise Brunkus

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Random House, Inc., New York. and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.

  Library of Congress Cataloging
-in-Publication Data

  Park, Barbara. Junie B. Jones and that meanie Jim’s birthday / by Barbara Park; illustrated by Denise Brunkus.

  p. cm. “A first stepping stone book.”

  SUMMARY: Junie B. is very upset when a boy in her class plans to invite everyone except her to his birthday party, but her grandfather helps her deal with the situation.

  eISBN: 978-0-307-75479-0

  [1. Kindergarten—Fiction. 2. Schools—Fiction. 3. Behavior—Fiction.

  4. Grandfathers—Fiction.] I. Brunkus, Denise, ill. II. Title.

  PZ7.P2197Jtsl 1996 [Fic]—dc20 95-35513

  http://www.randomhouse.com/

  v3.0