by Jonathan Eig
“But he knows you already,” Fayth said.
“And it was your idea, not ours,” Maya added.
“OK,” Lola said. “But you guys can definitely talk if you want to.”
“How about if we nod our heads and say ‘yeah’ a lot?” Maya said.
“That’s good,” Lola said. “Act like you’re really excited, OK?”
Fayth and Maya promised.
When they got to Mr. Murch’s office, his door was closed but his secretary said the girls could knock and go in.
“Hello, girls,” Mr. Murch said, looking surprised. “How can I help you today?”
Lola cleared her throat. “Mr. Murch, do you remember when I asked you if we could have a vote on the pigtails and ponytails?”
“Yes, of course I remember, Lola,” Mr. Murch said. “And I’m sorry to say I haven’t changed my mind. I’m not going to allow a vote.”
“Well,” Lola said, “since we couldn’t vote, we decided to do a petition. It’s a letter that makes a humble request. We got 401 signatures.” She put the petition on Mr. Murch’s desk. The principal picked it up and thumbed through the pages of signatures, then went back to the first page and read the letter Lola had written.
“This is very impressive,” Mr. Murch said.
“Some of the teachers signed, too,” Maya said.
“But mostly kids,” Fayth said.
“Very impressive,” Mr. Murch said.
“So what do you think, Mr. Murch?” Lola asked.
“Girls,” the principal said, “I have to tell you that this is excellent work. This petition is well written, and you got the whole school to sign it. That wasn’t easy. I think your bravery and your hard work should be rewarded. And ever since our last meeting, Lola, I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
“You have?” Lola asked, sounding surprised.
“Yes, I have,” Mr. Murch said. “And I have an idea. Tell me what you think.”
The girls leaned forward to listen.
“What if we started something called Spirit Week?” Mr. Murch said. “During Spirit Week, students would pick different fun ways of dressing. They could have Pajama Day, Silly Hair Day, Sports Team Day, or whatever they want. The students can choose.” He paused. “But not Smelly Day!”
The girls laughed.
“That sounds really fun,” Lola said. “Could we have Spirit Week every month?”
“How about once a year?” Mr. Murch asked.
“How about six times a year?” Lola asked.
“How about four—one for each report-card period?” Mr. Murch said.
“Deal!” Lola said. She jumped out of her chair and shook the principal’s hand. Then Maya and Fayth shook Mr. Murch’s hand too.
“I’ll send a letter home so the students know that their petition worked,” Mr. Murch said.
Lola had a big smile on her face. She felt strong and proud.
Mr. Murch looked out the window and then back at Lola. He ran his hand over his bald head.
“I used to have beautiful curly hair, you know?” he said.
“Really?” the girls all said at once. Lola tried to picture it but couldn’t.
“What color was it?” she asked.
“About the same as yours,” he said. “One year I let it grow so long it touched my shoulders.”
The girls started laughing hysterically. They couldn’t help it. Fayth fell off her chair and hurt her elbow, but only a little.
“OK, calm down,” Mr. Murch said. He stood up, helped Fayth up from the floor, and turned to the window. As he gazed outside he watched a small squirrel chase a bigger one. He turned back to the girls. “OK,” he said, “so you can go crazy with pigtails during Spirit Week, but you’ll keep them plain and simple the rest of the time, right?”
“Right!” Lola said. She couldn’t wait to tell her mother and grandfather.
“Right!” Maya said.
“Right!” Fayth said. She added: “And, oh, by the way, Mr. Murch. I think you’d still look good with long hair. Maybe you should grow it out again.”
“I’ll give that some thought,” Mr. Murch said with a smile. “Now, you girls should get back to class right away.”
When she got home from school, Lola shared her news about the pigtails with Grampa Ed. She also gave him another letter from Mrs. Gunderson.
Lola read it aloud:
Dear Ed,
When I was a little girl, my favorite book was Charlotte’s Web. It’s still my favorite, really. That’s why I make sure my third graders read it in class. It contains so many life lessons for little people—and big people.
I’ve often wondered: Why did Fern ask her mother where her father was going with his ax? Surely it wasn’t the first time she’d seen her father with an ax. He was a farmer. He probably killed pigs and chickens and geese all the time.
But Fern was curious. She wanted to know what was going on around her. She was not the kind of girl to eat her breakfast and stare at her cell phone while unfair things happened around her. She not only noticed, of course, she acted. She ran out to stop her father from killing the little pig. The first time I read the book, I thought it should have been called Fern the Brave instead of Charlotte’s Web.
Anyway, it’s been an eventful week at school. Lola did a lot of noticing and acting, as you probably know. And to think it’s only January! Five more months of school to go!
Fondly,
Sandy Gunderson
Grampa Ed took a piece of paper from his desk drawer and started sketching.
He drew a spider web. Then he drew a spider at the bottom of the web. Then he drew pigtails on the spider.
“Here,” Grampa said. “Write something on the web for me.”
“What should I write?” Lola asked.
“Whatever you want,” Grampa said.
Lola wrote in all capital letters and tried to make it look like the words were attached to the web. It said: “S-O-M-E P-I-G-T-A-I-L-S.”
After dinner that night, Lola’s mother suggested a trip around the corner for ice cream.
“We should celebrate Lola’s bravery,” Mom said, “and how she stood up for her beliefs and organized the petition. I’m proud of you, honey.”
“We should celebrate your new job, too, Lillian,” Grampa Ed said to Lola’s mother. “I’m proud of both of you.”
“I’m proud of you, Mom,” Lola said. “And you, too, Grampa. We should celebrate your new talent as a hairdresser!”
Grampa Ed gave her a crooked smile.
“We can also celebrate this,” Lola said, holding up her book. “I finished Charlotte’s Web!”
The days grew longer. The dirty snow that lined the sidewalks began to melt and puddle and slide down the sewer grates. The trees grew buds. Tiny blades of grass sprouted from patches of dirt. New life spread across the city. Children put their heavy coats in their closets and took their baseball gloves, scooters, and bicycles out of their basements.
One day during spring break, Grampa Ed invited Mrs. Gunderson to go to a diner for lunch.
On the last day of vacation, Lola got a haircut. The hairdresser wove her hair into two elaborate French braids.
“Do you like them?” she asked Grampa Ed.
“Very impressive,” he said.
“I can teach you how to make them if you want,” Lola said. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“Not really,” he said.
Even so, every morning that spring, Grampa Ed helped Lola with her hair. Sometimes he made pigtails, sometimes he made ponytails, and sometimes he made classic French braids—with minty gum wrappers threaded in.
In the afternoons, Lola did her homework while sitting next to Grampa Ed at his drawing table. Sometimes she picked up pencils and made her own sketches. Sometimes she wrote little stories to go along with her pictures.
“Hey, Grampa,” Lola said one day. “Did I tell you I started reading a new book?”
“No,” Grampa said. “What’s it called?”
“Anne of Green Gables,” Lola said. “Mrs. Gunderson recommended it. It’s about an orphan girl with red hair who goes to live with two adults who don’t have any children. They really want a boy, but they get a girl by mistake and they’re not sure they want to keep her. Oh, and she talks too much and uses big, fancy words.”
“You’re not going to want red hair, are you?”
“Maybe.” Lola giggled.
“You’re not going to start using a bunch of big, fancy words that I can’t understand, are you?”
“Hmmm,” Lola said. “What’s a big, fancy word for maybe?”
She paused and rubbed her chin.
“I’ve only read two chapters so far,” she said. “But I wonder how Anne learned all those words.”
“Maybe she had a thesaurus.”
“No, Grampa, it’s an old book, but it’s not that old. There are definitely no dinosaurs in Green Gables!”
Grampa laughed.
“A thesaurus is not a dinosaur,” he said. “It’s a book of synonyms. It helps you find just the right word for whatever you want to say.”
Lola’s eyes went wide.
“Oh, that’s a great idea! I’m going to the library tomorrow and I’m going to get a thesaurus! A big one! A brontosaurus-sized one!”
She grabbed a sheet of paper and began writing words to look up in the thesaurus. She wrote: synonym, maybe, smelly, radiant, funny, and gables.
“Wow, this is not going to be easy,” Lola said. “But…” She twirled her pencil. “But it is going to be fun!”
Jonathan Eig is as bald as a lightbulb, but he’s had a lot of practice making pigtails for his daughters. He likes pigtails so much he decided to write a book about them. Jonathan is a New York Times bestselling author and award-winning journalist whose most recent book was a biography of Muhammad Ali. He’s currently working on a biography of Martin Luther King, Jr. and writing more books about Lola Jones. He lives in Chicago with his wife, three children, and a hamster named Cheerio. Some Pigtails is his first book for children.
Alicia Teba Godoy is from Barcelona where she studied cinema and illustration and was very influenced by storytelling and fairy tales. She is passionate about drawing, animals, and cinema. She has illustrated books, stationery, comics, children’s magazines, and even concept arts, but loves illustrating children’s literature most of all. Like Lola Jones, Alicia is determined and, also like Lola, who stole her heart, Alicia is always creating and coming up with new ideas. Visit @garbancita_alicia on Instagram to learn more.