Last-But-Not-Least Lola Going Green

by Christine Pakkala

  Text copyright © 2013 by Christine Pakkala

  Illustrations copyright © 2013 by Paul Hoppe

  All rights reserved

  For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, contact

  permissions@highlights.com.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents

  are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously

  Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead,

  is entirely coincidental.

  Boyds Mills Press

  An Imprint of Highlights

  815 Church Street

  Honesdale, Pennsylvania 18431

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN: 978-1-59078-935-3

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2013938848

  First edition

  The text of this book is set in ITC Novarese Std.

  The drawings are done in pen on paper, with digital shading.

  Jacket illustrations copyright © 2013 by Paul Hoppe

  Cover design by Robbin Gourley

  CONTENTS

  1. Sopping-Wet Last

  2. What’s Your Problem?

  3. Out of Ideas

  3½.Why I Want to Beat Amanda Anderson

  4. The Only Child

  5. Sorry, Maybe

  6. Last-But-Not-Least, Lola

  7. A Brilliant Idea

  8. Before the Bell

  8½. People Who Rhyme with Ramanda Randerson, and Tattle

  9. And the Winner Is

  10. Old Spinach

  11. Woo Whee, Boys!

  12. Food Fight!

  12½. Dear Principal McCoy

  13. Sorry!

  14. The Runaways

  The Kids in Mrs. DeBenedetti’s Second Grade Class (Alphabetical Order)

  For Cameron—CP

  For Marianna—PH

  1. SOPPING–WET LAST

  MY NAME IS LOLA ZUCKERMAN, AND Zuckerman means I’m always last. Just like zippers, zoom, and zebras. Last. Zilch, zeroes, and zombies.

  ZZZZZZZ when you’re too tired to stay awake. ZZZZZZZZ when a bee is about to sting you. Z. Ding-dong LAST in the alphabet.

  That’s a problem. I’ll tell you why.

  My teacher is called Mrs. DeBenedetti. That’s a mouthful so we just call her Mrs. D. And guess what? She LOVES the alphabet.

  Every day Mrs. D. does an A-to-Z roll call. I have to wait and wait and wait. Past the A’s, B’s, and C’s. And the S, T, U, and V’s. I have to wait for X, even though NOBODY starts with X. On the first day of school, I told Mrs. D. that my old teacher never had roll call. I told Mrs. D. that it’s a big problem for me because I hate waiting.

  Mrs. D. says we have to be problem solvers. But how do you solve a problem like Z? I can’t just go ahead and switch around the alphabet. I can’t start singing A, B, Z, D, E, F, G. Somebody would notice.

  Today Mom and I are walking all the way to school ’cause we’re Going Green. I’m sure I’m not tired. Even though it’s three miles. And we’ve already walked two-and-a-half of them. And I’m huffing fast ’cause a big cloud is getting dark right over my head.

  Suddenly I have an idea. I say to Mom, “How ’bout you call me Lola Albertson?”

  “No, Lola.”

  “Lola Adams?”

  “No.”

  “Lola Appleby?”

  “No, honey, you’re Lola Zuckerman. It’s a great last name. Zuckerman means ‘sugar man’ in German,” Mom says.

  “It means ‘last’ in American.”

  “Isn’t last sometimes good? Like when you’re last to go to bed? Or last to leave the playground?” Mom asks.

  I don’t want Mom to feel bad. So I don’t tell Mom that going last STINKS, especially at school.

  Not all of Mrs. D.’s ideas are stinkers. She told us on Day One that our class was Going Green. That’s when you don’t make a mess on planet Earth.

  Today we’re going to write down our three best ideas about Going Green. Then we get to share one … just one. Our class is going to vote on the best idea. The winner gets to wear a green vest with a gold medal that says “Captain Green.”

  And that’s not all. The winner gets to have lunch with Mrs. D. in the teacher’s lounge. Four years ago my brother, Jack, won the Going Green contest. He said the whole teacher’s lounge is one hundred percent candy. And Mrs. D. LOVES candy. When she leans over to check your work, you can smell chocolate right on her breath.

  I really, really, really want to win the Going Green contest. I want to be Captain Green. And wear the green vest with the gold medal, just like Jack. I want to have lunch all by myself with Mrs. D., won on won, like she told us. Right inside that teacher’s lounge, full of candy bars and sour fruit tarts and watermelon taffy and chocolate-marshmallow-peanut-butter fudge balls. I want to be the best ’cause that would teach SOMEBODY I know a lesson.

  When you’re “Z” and your teacher LOVES the alphabet, that’s a problem. From A to Z, someone is sure to take all my Going Green ideas.

  “Come on, sweetie,” Mom says. “You don’t want to be late.” Mom looks up at the sky, so I do, too. That big cloud is getting darker. “And it looks like rain.”

  We start walking faster. My legs feel like scissors. Swish, swish, swishety-swish.

  “Mom, are you sure we’re going to get there on time?” I ask. Mom says, “time gets away from her.” She also says, “time flies,” and, “I don’t know where the time went.” That’s called “late.”

  “Sure, I’m sure.”

  “Real time or Mom time?” I ask.

  Mom looks at her watch. “Let’s jog,” Mom says.

  We start jogging. Now my legs feel like hammers. Thud, thud, thudety, thud.

  Splat. A raindrop falls. Then another. Then another. Pretty soon it’s raining hard.

  Not only am I going to be last. I’m going to be sopping-wet last.

  A giant SUV zooms by.

  “That’s the Andersons’ car!” Mom says. “Quick, Lola, wave your arms!”

  I wave my arms and yell, “Stop! Wait! We need a ride.”

  Penny Anderson used to be our neighbor. Amanda Anderson used to be my best friend. Not anymore.

  And it’s not because Amanda always gets to go first, in case you think that.

  Mom waves her arms. “Wait!”

  But Mrs. Anderson’s SUV keeps zooming by.

  “Oh shoot, she didn’t see us,” Mom says.

  Splat, splat, splat, and a jump over a soggy patch of grass, and Mom has to stop to pick up somebody’s water bottle.

  Finally, we get to my school. BRRRRIIIING!

  I am late, late, late. Mrs. Crowley, the secretary, gives me a late pass.

  “Late again, Lola,” she says.

  Late-Again-Lola? “That’s not my name,” I say, but real quiet. I only missed the bus ONCE last week, ’cause I couldn’t find my purple notebook.

  I take off doing my special run-skip down the hall. It’s handy for getting somewhere fast.

  I race in and put my late pass in Mrs. D’s basket. Then I zip on over to my desk.

  “John Carmine Tabanelli,” Mrs. D. says.

  “Here,” John says. Mrs. D. learned on Day One NOT to skip any parts of John Carmine Tabanelli’s name. It’s special to him.

  “Timo Toivonen.”

  “I am here,” Timo says.

  “Ben Wexler.”

  “Here, “ Ben says.

  “Lola Zuckerman.”

  I slip-slide into my seat. “HERE!” I holler.

  That’s the only good thing about “Z.”

  In roll call, Mrs. D. gets to
me last. So even with a late pass, I still get to yell “HERE!”

  Poor ol’ Amanda Anderson, Mrs. D. always calls her name first. She better not be late ever!

  2. WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM?

  “YOU’RE SOAKING WET,” HARVEY Baxter says. Harvey Baxter always tells you stuff you already know, and in a really loud voice. Harvey acts loud, too. He crashes and stomps and thumps.

  I shake my head like my dog, Patches. “So what? I walked to school and saved Mother Earth.”

  “We zoomed right by you on the bus. That was a dumb idea, walking to school.”

  “No, sir, it wasn’t. We were Going Green,” I tell him. Then I look over to see if Mrs. D. heard me.

  “That’s why I’d make the best Captain Green. I’m always thinking green things.”

  “It’s not Captain Green, Lola,” Harvey says. “It’s green captain. And I’m going to win! I have a great idea.”

  “Wrong again, Harvey,” I say.

  “Harvey, Lola, let’s put on our listening ears. What do you hear?” Mrs. D. asks.

  “Your voice, telling us to be quiet,” Harvey says.

  “Anything else?” she asks.

  “I hear rain,” I say.

  “Yes. The pitter-patter of rain,” Mrs. D. says.

  “I hate rain,” Harvey says.

  “What’s good about rain?” Mrs. D. asks.

  “It makes the grass grow,” Amanda says.

  “And pretty flowers,” Jessie says.

  “And big, big trees,” I say, “lots of trees.”

  “When a tree catches on fire, you have to get a fire truck to put it out,” Ben Wexler says. He shows us how a fire hose works.

  “True,” Mrs. D. says. “What are some things that grow in September?”

  “Apples!” everyone yells. We talked about that last week when we made an A-to-Z fruits-and-vegetables list.

  I look over at Amanda Anderson. She has a big smile on her face. Fishsticks! She’s happy that her fruit goes first. I decide that I like mangoes a whole lot better than apples.

  “It also brings my birthday!” Sam yells out.

  “Hand, Sam!” Mrs. D. says.

  If you were an alien you would think Mrs. D. is saying “handsome.” She isn’t.

  “Jellybeans, what contest does September bring?” she asks. She has about four hundred nicknames for us. Mostly candy names. Like I said, she LOVES candy.

  “The Going Green contest!” we yell.

  Maybe she forgot she told us that yesterday. “That’s right,” she says, but we are all talking at once. Mrs. D. claps her hands to get everyone’s attention: clap, clap, clap-clap-clap.

  “And how are we going to begin our Going Green contest?” she asks. “Hands, please.”

  “OOH OOH OOH,” Sam grunts. His hand is waving back and forth.

  Mrs. D. calls on Charlie Henderson.

  “We’re going to write down three ways we can Go Green,” he says. “Then we’re going to share one.”

  Harvey Baxter raises his hand. “Just one?” he asks.

  “Just one, Harvey, but with each of you sharing one, that will be nineteen Going Green ideas.”

  My stomach starts to ache a tiny bit. Maybe Mrs. D. will go backward today. Maybe “Z” will go first. But I don’t get my hopes up. She’s got all the fruits and vegetables right up there on her bulletin board from A to Z: apples, bananas, cherries, dates. She’s got a whole lot of books lined up in alphabetical order: Adams, Barker, Carver, Dawson. Oh, and guess what? We did self-portraits and she hung them up A to Z. My ear’s squished in the corner, and part of my eyeball.

  Everywhere you look in Mrs. D’s room, the alphabet stares right back at you.

  I get out my new, watermelon-smelling pencil. I had it tucked in the special pencil pocket of my Lola dress. Mom made it—the dress and the pocket—just for me. That’s why I always know where my watermelon pencil is. I also have a pocket for notes, and a zipper pocket for my lucky white marble that looks like a dead man’s eyeball.

  I write, write, write. All around me the air smells like watermelons. I’ve decided to write down a whole bunch of ideas. I look over at Amanda Anderson and she’s already done, ’cause one idea would be okay for Amanda Anderson. One or two or three ideas would be okay for “A” through “Y,” but not for “Z.” I write:

  1. No trash lunch. (And that means no plastic sandwich baggies! No juice boxes. I got that out of Highlights magazine. Is that cheating?)

  2. Don’t flush the toilet. (Unless you go number two—then you better flush it, and I’m talking to you, Jack.) My brother is in sixth grade so he should know better.

  3. Shut the door when you come inside! (We’re not heating the outdoors, you know!)

  4. Shut off the lights when you leave the room! (Don’t worry cause Patches can see in the dark.)

  5. Make cows stop farting. They gas up the air.

  Then Mrs. D. says, “Jujubes, I look forward to hearing all your Going Green problems and your solutions after recess. Now it’s time to move on to math.”

  We move on to math. Then we move on to Spanish, Snack, and Birthday Share. If it’s your birthday month you get to share. John Carmine Tabanelli shares his electric train. We set up the tracks around Mrs. D.’s desk and we watch it go around seventeen times. Then it’s recess!

  We line up A to Z. I run out there as fast as I can. Too late! Amanda Anderson is already swinging with Jessie Chavez. Amanda’s dress is pink with purple polka dots. Jessie’s is purple with pink polka dots. Too bad they don’t have pockets like mine.

  After about four hundred hours, Amanda and Jessie finally wear out. I scooch onto the swing. Amanda is walking away. She’s holding hands with Jessie Chavez.

  “Um … Amanda.” I peep that out. Even I can’t hear me.

  “Want to swing Double Dippers?” I say louder to Amanda. That’s where you swing at exactly the same time. We invented that. Maybe.

  Amanda stops and turns around. “No thanks,” she says. She and Jessie kneel down to make chalk drawings on the wet pavement.

  “You drove past and didn’t pick us up!” I shout over to Amanda on the down swing.

  Amanda draws a tail. “No, sir, I didn’t. I don’t even know how to drive.”

  “I mean your mom.”

  “She didn’t see you!”

  “I like your dog picture!” I yell.

  Amanda gets a mean look on her face. “It’s a horse and you know it.”

  When I was little, I used to swing Double Dippers with Amanda. Now I’m in second grade. Now me and Amanda are like:

  Mustard and pancakes.

  Syrup and hot dogs.

  Broccoli and cotton candy.

  We don’t go together anymore.

  It’s all Amanda Anderson’s fault. Maybe.

  3. OUT OF IDEAS

  FINALLY IT’S TIME FOR OUR GOING Green ideas. I pull out my list that I wrote in my big purple notebook. Mmmm. It still smells like watermelons.

  We get to act like Mrs. D. We get to talk without raising our hands, and call on people. Amanda stands at the front of the class in her pink dress with purple polka dots, and no chalk dust or holes. Holes just pop right out on my clothes.

  “My problem is trash. My solution,” Amanda takes a breath, “is to have a no-trash lunch!”

  I cross that one off my list. Fishsticks! Amanda has a subscription to Highlights, too. That cheater just stole that idea right out of there. Maybe. Olivia O’Donnell raises her hand.

  “Yes, Olivia?” Amanda says.

  “What about juice boxes? Mom packs me Tubby’s Juicy Juicers every day.”

  “Have your Mom buy a big jug of juice and put some in a thermos,” Amanda says.

  A bunch of people raise their hands, me too.But mean ol’ Amanda Anderson doesn’t call on me. Too bad, ’cause I want to say that I have that idea in my purple notebook.

  Amanda curtsies. She waves to everybody. I pretend to be invisible.

  Next, Harvey Baxter hooks his t
humbs in his belt loops and leans way back.

  “Perfume is bad,” he says. “It stinks up all the good air.”

  “You should shut the door when you come inside,” Dilly Chang says. Her real name is Katherine. But when she was little, she loved dill pickles. So now her name is Dilly.

  I cross that one off my list. I still have three really good ideas.

  Jessie Chavez stands up in her purple dress with pink polka dots.

  “I have a great Going Green problem and a really super solution!” Her Mom is in advertising and Jessie always talks like a TV commercial.

  “Let’s hear it,” Mrs. D. says in her plain biscuit voice.

  “Pool heaters!”

  Mrs. D. asks, “Pool heaters?”

  “Sure! Can’t you swim in your pool without the heat on? Well, I can! So turn off your pool heater and save energy!” Jessie Chavez gives a big smile.

  I raise my hand and holler, “I don’t have a pool, so how can I turn off my pool heater?”

  “Me neither!” a whole bunch of people yell.

  Jessie’s mouth gets crumpled like a used tissue.

  Amanda Anderson raises her hand and yells, “I do! And I think it’s a great idea, Jessie!”

  “Well I don’t,” I say on the loud side.

  “Thank you, Jessie,” Mrs. D. says. She gives me THE LOOK.

  Next, Abby Frank stands by the door, chewing on her braid. She’s a chewer, that Abby Frank. She chews the erasers right off pencils.

  “People waste energy by leaving on the lights.” She reaches for the light switch. Flip!

  “Abby,” Mrs. D. says, “we can’t see.”

  Abby turns on the lights. Now she’s got both of her braids stuffed in her mouth.

  Charlie Henderson asks, “Did you know if you flush the toilet every time you pee you waste five gallons of water? I read that on the Internet.” He loves facts from the Internet.

  “And if you don’t, PEE YOO,” Harvey calls out. I cross that one off my list.

  All I’ve got left is cow gas.