or how you know someone loves you.
And write that down.
Ask me any questions you want.
And don’t worry about this a bit.
It’s our very first day, after all.
We’re just getting warmed up.”
So I got paper and a pencil.
And I did some thinking.
Then I wrote my poem.
I wrote:
Soon Mr. Campanelli walked around the room
and checked our work.
“An excellent job,” he said, when he read my poem.
“But you’re making me thirsty!”
He didn’t say anything about my handwriting.
So I guess it was fine.
And I thought
I might like third grade.
The rest of the day went very fast.
Soon Natalie was there to pick me up.
“Here,” I said, when she came in.
“This is for you.”
I handed her one of the pictures I had drawn earlier.
A picture of flowers
in a little garden
just off a sidewalk.
“I love it,” Natalie said.
“It’s perfect. Thank you.”
Then Pearl came over.
I didn’t want her to say anything about Bibi.
And she didn’t.
Instead she said to Natalie,
“You have the most beautiful hair
I have ever seen.”
“Goodness,” Natalie said.
She ran her hand over her ponytail.
“Thanks.”
Then Natalie smiled at Pearl
and Pearl smiled at Natalie.
And I felt happy.
Natalie and I walked Pearl and her mom to their building.
Then we headed home.
And as we turned the corner
we saw Val,
who saw us, too,
and raised her arm
and waved and waved
and shouted,
“Come quick, you two!
Run!”
So we ran.
All the way to Val.
When we reached Val
she handed me a letter.
A letter to Miss Eleanor Abigail Kane
from Ms. Bibi Bholasing.
I took that letter
and thanked Val
and ran with Natalie
all the way to my apartment.
Then I wasn’t sure what to do.
I wanted to read Bibi’s letter by myself.
But I didn’t want Natalie to feel bad.
Natalie must have read my mind.
“Would you like to take the letter to your room?”
she asked.
“While I make us a snack?”
I smiled at Natalie
and nodded my head
and went in my room
and sat on my bed
and read my letter from Bibi.
It said:
I like reading Bibi’s letter.
I read it every single day,
which is good.
Because reading is important for third grade.
I think Bibi’s words are beautiful,
like the poems we’re reading with Mr. Campanelli.
And like Natalie’s hair.
I keep the letter right by my bed
so I see it when I wake up in the morning,
and when I go to sleep at night.
Bibi will always be my first babysitter.
My very special babysitter.
And she will always be my Bibi.
Even if she is waiting for the breeze in Florida,
and I am far away.
I am grateful to the real-life Bibi Bholasing, for inspiring this book and for so much more.
Many thanks as well to Amy Hest and Roslyn Streifer, my dear friends and advisors, for their ceaseless support; Tamar Brazis, my editor, for her graciousness and vision; and Rosemary Stimola, my agent, for making me laugh and for holding my hand.
Most of all, I thank my family, for everything.
Like Pickle Juice on a Cookie Page 4