Judy Moody Predicts the Future

by Megan McDonald

  Press an apple seed to the forehead and recite the letters of the alphabet. When the seed falls off, that’s the letter of the true love’s name.

  Apple seed. She could do that, too! She drew stars around that one.

  Light a candle. If the wax drips to the left side, a woman is in love. Right side, a man is in love.

  RARE!

  Judy wrote a note to herself:

  Judy was first to arrive in Room 3T on Monday morning.

  “Judy, would you pass out crayons to everybody?” asked Mr. Todd.

  “What for?”

  “Today we’re going to do all our writing with crayons.”

  “What for?” Judy asked.

  “For fun!”

  “Magic Markers are better,” said Judy. Mr. Todd frowned.

  “I’m just saying.”

  “But don’t you just love the smell of crayons?” asked Mr. Todd.

  Judy hurried up and passed out the not-Magic-Marker crayons. Then she asked Mr. Crayon Smeller if she could conduct a scientific experiment on his desk.

  She set a bowl of water with twenty-six paper letters next to his pencil jar.

  She could hardly wait to see which letters turned right side up. Soon she, Madame M, would know the name of Mr. Todd’s secret love! She would no longer be Madame M for Mistake. No more Phoney-Baloney.

  During Science class, Judy watched the letters float upside down in the bowl of water. Mr. Todd was talking away about cumulus clouds. Judy drew puffy clouds with her Blizzard Blue crayon. She drew skinny clouds. She drew clouds shaped like hearts and crayons.

  As soon as Science was over, Judy rushed up to Mr. Todd’s desk. Lots of the upside-down paper squares had turned over! But all the Magic Marker letters had gotten runny and blurry in the water. She could not read one single letter!

  “Did your experiment work?” asked Mr. Todd.

  “No,” said Judy. “It came out a big fat zero.”

  “Try again,” said Mr. Todd. “True science takes time.”

  Yes, thought Judy. But this time she would use an apple seed.

  Judy ate the apple at lunch. At recess, she found Mr. Todd on the playground talking with Rocky and Frank. “Mr. Todd,” Judy asked, “will you help me with another experiment?”

  “Anything for science,” said Mr. Todd.

  “Put this apple seed on your forehead. Then say the alphabet.”

  “Fun-ny!” said Frank.

  “Are you going to?” asked Rocky.

  “Somehow this doesn’t exactly sound scientific,” said Mr. Todd. He stuck the apple seed to his forehead. He started singing the alphabet song. “A B C D, E F G . . .” All the kids laughed.

  “Is this a joke?” asked Mr. Todd.

  “Don’t stop!” cried Judy. “You’ll wreck the experiment!”

  Mr. Todd sang all the way to the letter T before the apple seed fell off.

  The letter T, thought Judy. Hmm. Same as Todd.

  “How’d I do?” asked Mr. Todd.

  “We’ll see,” said Judy. “True science takes time.”

  “Glad I could help. Now we’d better head back inside. Don’t forget, today’s the big day. Our special guest author is coming to visit 3T.”

  “You mean the Crayon Lady?” asked Frank. “Today?”

  “How could you forget?” asked Judy. “Mr. Todd’s had crayons on the brain for a whole week.”

  Who cared about crayons anyway? Crayons were for kindergartners. She had grown-up things to think about. Important things. Like L-O-V-E, love.

  Class 3T washed the blackboard and picked up scraps of paper under their chairs. They fed the fish and emptied the trash and erased pencil marks on their desks. Mr. Todd wanted the room to look extra special, extra sparkling.

  “We’ve never had to clean this much for anybody,” said Frank.

  “Tell me about it,” said Judy. “Who’s going to look in the trash anyway?”

  “Her?” said Frank, pointing to a woman tapping on their door.

  As soon as she came in, Class 3T put on their best third-grade listening ears.

  “Class 3T,” said Mr. Todd, “I would like you to meet a special friend of mine, Ms. Tater. As you know, she’s an author and an artist, and she’s here today all the way from New York to tell us about the book she wrote called Crayons Aren’t for Eating.”

  Everybody clapped. The Crayon Lady looked like a crayon! She wore a lemon yellow top and a skirt like a painting. She had short, curly boy-hair and a fancy scarf around her head. She even had on crayon earrings. Best of all, she had melted orange crayon wax on her boots!

  Ms. Tater showed 3T her book about how crayons were made. She told the class it was non-fiction. Non-fiction meant the opposite of fiction. It meant true.

  Ms. Tater was non-old (young). She was non-ugly (pretty). And she was non-boring (interesting). She told the class how the first crayon was made a hundred years ago. She told about the secret formula for crayons, made of wax, color, and powder.

  Then the author lit a candle and mixed the candle wax drips with red powder to show how they make crayons. “It’s like mixing flour in a cake mix,” said Ms. Tater.

  Ms. Tater told them how one time she met some famous guy named Captain Kangaroo at a crayon museum in New York. No lie.

  She even told about the Crayon Eater machine. It was a big machine that checked for broken or lumpy crayons and threw the bad ones out.

  Once, Ms. Tater got to name her own crayon.

  “What was it called?” everybody asked.

  “Pumpkin Moon,” she said, and she held up an orange crayon that matched her boots. “Mr. Todd helped me think of it.” Her smile was Nightlight Bright.

  “Some new names of crayons are Atomic Tangerine, Banana Mania, and Eggplant.”

  Eggplant was a color! Stink was right! “Is Zucchini a crayon?” asked Judy.

  “No, but that’s a good idea,” said Ms. Tater. “And then there’s my favorite: Purple Mountain Majesty.”

  “RARE!” said Judy. Purple Mountain Majesty! That was as good as Joyful, On-Top-of-the-World purple.

  “Mr. Todd’s favorite is Vermilion.”

  “That’s red,” said Mr. Todd.

  Red! Judy sat up straight as a president and perked up her best third-grade listening ears.

  “And we can’t forget about Macaroni and Cheese!” Ms. Tater held up a cheesy-looking crayon. “This one looks good enough to eat! But we’ll leave that to the Crayon Eater machine.” Everybody in Class 3T cracked up.

  “Now it’s your turn,” Ms. Tater said. “Who can think up a good name for a crayon? Any ideas?”

  “Baseball-Mitt Brown!” said Frank.

  “Piggy Pink!” said Jessica Finch.

  “Mud,” said Brad.

  “Moody Blue!” said Judy.

  When they were finished, Ms. Tater let them ask questions.

  “How long does it take to make a crayon?” asked Jessica Finch.

  “About fifteen minutes.”

  “How long does it take to write a book?” asked Rocky.

  “A lot longer than that. It took me about one year.”

  “Who invented crayons anyway? George Washington?” asked Frank.

  “Well,” said Ms. Tater, “two guys named Binney and Smith made the first crayon. It was black. Mr. Binney’s wife, Alice, was a teacher, like Mr. Todd. She invented the name Crayola.”

  “Any more questions?” asked Mr. Todd.

  Judy waved her hand in the air. “I have a comment, not a question.”

  “Yes?” said Ms. Tater.

  “You were so non-boring.”

  “Thank you,” Ms. Tater said. “What a great compliment.”

  Everybody clapped for the Crayon Lady when the program was over.

  “Okay, 3T,” said Mr. Todd, “Ms. Tater brought free crayons for all of us. Line up and I’ll pass them out. Then you can go back to your seats and draw.”

  Judy got in line for her crayon. That’s when she saw it. The candle! A
ll the wax from the candle that Ms. Tater lit had dripped to one side. The left side.

  But wait! If Mr. Todd was in love, the candle would have dripped to the right side. The left side meant a woman was in love.

  Judy looked harder at the Crayon Lady. Mr. Todd handed her a Vermilion Red crayon. Ms. Tater smiled back at him like he had just turned into a handsome prince or something.

  Or something! Boing! Of course! That was it! Ms. Tater was in love! The candle drips proved it. Judy saw it with her own eyes. And Tater started with T. Just like the apple seed said.

  At last, she, Judy Moody, had made a non-fiction prediction! Mr. Todd was in love with the Crayon Lady! The Crayon Lady was in love with Mr. Todd. There were a Vermilion and one reasons.

  Judy Moody was in a tell-the-world mood. Judy told Frank Pearl. Judy told Rocky and Stink and the whole bus. Judy told Mom and Dad when she got home. She even called Jessica Finch. She announced to the whole world her best-ever, foretell-the-future, non-fiction prediction: “Madame M predicts . . . Twa la! Mr. Todd and the Crayon Lady are in love!”

  By the next morning, Virginia Dare School was buzzing with the news. Really and truly? Could it be? Had Judy Moody predicted the future, once and for all? How did she know? Should they ask Mr. Todd?

  That morning, Class 3T sat about as still as popping popcorn.

  “My, aren’t we jumpy this morning,” said Mr. Todd.

  “We have something we want to ask you,” said Judy. She added three new bite marks to her pencil.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” everybody agreed.

  “Well, before you ask me your question, I have some important news to tell all of you. It’s a secret, but I think it’s time I let you in on it.”

  Chomp, chomp. Judy chewed on her pencil eraser.

  “You know Ms. Tater, the author you met yesterday?”

  Judy nearly choked on her pencil eraser! The whole class seemed to hold its breath. The popcorn stopped popping.

  “I hope you enjoyed her presentation, and I hope you all learned something about making crayons and something about making books.”

  Bite, bite. Chomp.

  “I told you Ms. Tater is a special friend. And I’m so glad you all had a chance to meet her, because Ms. Tater and I are engaged. We are going to be married! And you are all invited to our wedding.”

  “Wedding!” “Mmm, cake!” “Can I come?” “When?” “Will you still be our teacher?”

  Questions and more questions zoomed around the room.

  “Will there be a lot of crayons at your house?” asked Jessica Finch.

  “Will your kids be the Tater-Todds?” asked Frank. He cracked himself up.

  Judy did not even stop to laugh. “I KNEW IT!” She jumped right out of her seat. Her bite-mark pencil flew to the front of the room. She practically did a dance right in the middle of the second row from the right.

  “Judy Moody predicted it!” yelled Frank Pearl. “She was right!”

  “She knew yesterday!” said Rocky. “She told us on the bus.”

  “She called me!” said Jessica Finch.

  Everybody pointed to Judy. “She did! She told us! She knew! She predicted it right!”

  “Judy,” said Mr. Todd, “is this true?”

  “It’s non-fiction,” said Judy.

  “How did you know? We thought we had a pretty good secret.”

  Judy thought of all the ways she knew. The mood ring turning red. The apple seed. The candle wax. But most of all it was the way Mr. Todd smiled ear to ear around Ms. Tater. And the way Ms. Tater’s eyes looked when she showed them the Pumpkin Moon crayon.

  She could say it was the mood ring. She could say it was ESP. She could say that she, Madame M for Moody, saw the future. Just like Jeane Dixon, Famous American Fortuneteller, without the eggs. But Judy realized — some things you just know. In your heart. There’s no explaining them.

  “How I knew is a secret,” said Judy.

  At last, she, Judy Moody, had predicted the future.

  As soon as she got home, Judy ran straight to her room, opened up her super-special baby-tooth box, and took out her mood ring. Judy slipped the mood ring onto her finger. She closed her eyes. She held her breath. She counted to eight, her favorite number. She thought of purple things: cool arm slings and dragonfly wings, grape bubblegum and not-pond-scum mood rings.

  At last, Judy opened her eyes.

  Black! The mood ring was black as Christmas-stocking coal. Black as a bad-luck ink splat. Black as a bad mood.

  How could it be black when she was On-Top-of-Spaghetti happy? No, wait! The mood ring was changing. Yes. Right before her eyes. The mood ring turned purple! Mountain Majesty Purple! No lie. She, Judy Moody, was in a Joyful, On-Top-of-the-World mood.

  Mr. Todd said that everybody played a part in their own future, and the future was looking brighter already. From now on, Judy would take the future into her own hands, and there was no time like the present to get started.

  She took out a non-Grouchy pencil and she wrote some non-fiction in her non-homework journal.

  Judy Moody’s Plans for the Future

  Spell tortilla and zigzag the right way.

  Get Stink to stop bugging me.

  Maybe write a book (not about crayons).

  Paint my room Purple Mountain Majesty.

  Dress up fancy for a wedding.

  Become a doctor.

  The future was out there, waiting. And there was one more thing Judy did know for sure and absolute positive — there would be many more moods to come.