Junie B. Jones and the Yucky Blucky Fruitcake

by Barbara Park

  Contents

  1. The Bestest Game Winner

  2. Hopping and Racing and Tic-Tac-Toad

  3. All About Carnivals

  4. Very Practicing

  5. Stupid Dumb Carnival Games

  6. Bull’s-Eye

  7. Winning!!!

  8. The Most Usefulest Cake I Love

  1/The Bestest Game Winner

  My name is Junie B. Jones. The B stands for Beatrice. Except I don’t like Beatrice. I just like B and that’s all.

  I am in the grade of kindergarten. It is the afternoon kind.

  Afternoon kindergarten is better than morning kindergarten. That’s because you get to sleep late. And watch cartoons.

  Only guess what? Today my baby brother named Ollie waked me up very too early.

  He was screaming for his bottle.

  But screaming is not polite. And so he needed some discipline, I think.

  I sat up in my bed.

  “HEY! SHUT UP YOUR FACE!” I hollered.

  Mother opened my door speedy quick.

  Her eyes were angry at me.

  “Junie B. Jones! What do you think you’re doing?” she growled.

  I hided from her under my sheet.

  “I think I’m doin’ discipline,” I said kind of quiet.

  “Please, Junie B. Not today,” said Mother. “Daddy and I need you to be on your best behavior. We both have to go to work early and Grampa Miller is coming to baby-sit.”

  Just then, I heard the front door open.

  “GRAMPA! IT’S MY GRAMPA FRANK MILLER!” I shouted.

  I jumped out of bed and ran to meet him. Only too bad for Grampa. ’Cause he didn’t see me coming around the corner. And I accidentally butted him in the stomach with my head.

  Grampa Miller yelled the word of OOOMF!

  Then he bended way over in half. And me and Mother and Daddy had to help him walk to the couch.

  Daddy did a frown at me.

  “How many times have we told you not to run in the house?” he said.

  I counted on all my fingers. “A million thrillion skadillion, I think. Only I’m just guessing.”

  After that, Mother made me sit on her lap. And she told Grampa Frank Miller the baby-sitter ’structions on me.

  Baby-sitter ’structions is all the stuff I’m not allowed to do.

  Like no climbing on top of the ’frigerator.

  And no putting lipstick on my dog named Tickle.

  And no making Ollie lick a potato. Except for he didn’t actually mind it that much.

  After the baby-sitter ’structions, Mother and Daddy kissed me good-bye.

  Then they went to work.

  I jumped way high in the air.

  “Oh boy! Oh boy! Now they’re gone! And so you and me can have fun! Right, Grampa? Right?”

  I zoomed into the kitchen and climbed on top of the ’frigerator.

  “HEY, GRAMPA! COME LOOK WHERE I AM!”

  Grampa Miller came in the kitchen.

  “Look! Look how high I am up here! Now I can be the king. And this can be my throne. And you’re my servant named Pinkie. And you have to fetch me stuff. And also I get to hit you on the head with my sword.”

  Grampa Miller lifted me off the ’frigerator. He put me back on the floor.

  “Yeah, only I didn’t give you permission to do that, Pinkie,” I said.

  “Sorry, little girl. But you heard the rules,” said Grampa. “And anyhow, I have to finish feeding Ollie his breakfast bottle.”

  He went back into the living room.

  “Hey, Grampa! You just gave me a very great idea! ’Cause I think I’ll eat my breakfast, too. Only I can fix mine all by myself!”

  I hurried up and got out the ’greedients. ’Greedients is the stuff you mix together.

  Like the bowl.

  And the spoon.

  And the cereal.

  And the milk.

  Except for the milk carton was very too heavy for me. And so I just got the orange juice, instead.

  I put my bowl of cereal on the floor. Then I poured orange juice to the tippy-top of it.

  I took a giant bite.

  “Yum,” I said. “This is the most delicious breakfast I ever ate. Except for it doesn’t actually taste that good.”

  Just then Grampa Miller came in the kitchen. He said no eating on the floor.

  “Yeah, but I don’t like to sit in my big kitchen chair,” I said. “’Cause I’m not tall enough to reach the table. And so Mother makes me sit on a telephone book. Only that thing hurts my behiney.”

  My grampa looked in my bowl. “What in the world are you eating?” he asked.

  “I am eating cereal and orange juice,” I told him. “It is very delicious. Except for it is going to make me puke, I think.”

  Then Grampa Frank Miller opened the ’frigerator. So he could find me a better kind of breakfast.

  “How ’bout some fruit?” he said.

  “Yea!” I shouted. “Yea for fruit! ’Cause fruit is the bestest thing I love!”

  I folded my hands very polite. “I would like some bananas and some peaches and some strawberries, please!”

  And so Grampa sliced all those fruits into a bowl. And he let me eat them in the living room. In front of TV!

  And I’m not even allowed to do that! Only we’re not telling Mother!

  And here’s another fun thing!

  After breakfast, baby Ollie took his nap. And me and my grampa Miller played Old Maid. And I winned him five whole times in a row!

  That’s because I kept on putting the old maid way higher than the rest of my cards. And he kept on picking it!

  Grampa Frank Miller is a sucker, I think.

  Me and him played lots more games, too.

  Their names are Who Can Skip the Fastest. And Who Can Hop on One Foot the Longest. And also the game of Tic-Tac-Toad.

  And guess what? I winned all of those games, too!

  “I’m the bestest game winner in the whole world!” I said.

  Then I runned to my room to get ready for kindergarten.

  First, I put on my favorite pants with the polka dotties on them.

  Then, I found my favorite sweater with the cow on the front. It was in the dirty clothes hamper. Only it didn’t even stink that much.

  After that, I combed my hair with my fingers. And I brushed my teeth. Except for not the wiggly one.

  Grampa made me a sandwich for lunch. Its name was Jack Cheese.

  I ate it all up. Then I gave him a big kiss. And I skipped to my school bus very happy.

  “I’M THE BESTEST WINNN-ERRRR. I’M THE BESTEST WINNN-ERRRR,” I sang real loud.

  ’Cause winning is the funnest thing I love.

  2/Hopping and Racing and Tic-Tac-Toad

  I ride the school bus with my bestest friend named Grace.

  She has curly black hair. That is my favorite kind of head.

  Also she has pink high tops with big feet in them.

  That Grace is a lucky duck, I think.

  “Hey, Grace! Guess what? Me and my grampa Frank Miller played games today! And I winned him at Old Maid and at hopping and skipping and Tic-Tac-Toad! And so I am the bestest game winner in the whole world!”

  That Grace smiled. “Me, too,” she said. “I’m a good game winner, too.”

  I patted her very nice. “Yeah, only you can’t be as good as me, Grace. ’Cause I said it first, that’s why.”

  That Grace did a mad face at me. Then she called me the name of beanie head.

  I patted her again.

  “You don’t take criticism that well, Grace,” I said.

  Just then she got out a pencil and paper from
her back pack.

  She drew a Tic-Tac-Toad.

  “Now we’ll see who the bestest winner really is,” she said.

  “I GOT X’s!” I hollered.

  “I GOT O’s!” she hollered.

  “I GO FIRST!” I hollered.

  “I GO SECOND!” she hollered.

  Then me and her played Tic-Tac-Toad.

  “TIC-TAC-TOAD! THREE IN A ROAD!” I yelled very fast. “SEE, GRACE? SEE? I TOLD YA I’M THE BESTEST WINNER!”

  That Grace looked at the paper.

  “But your X’s aren’t in a row, Junie B.,” she said.

  I did a huffy breath at her.

  “I know they are not in a row, Grace. That is why I made a curvy line to connect them.”

  That Grace jumped up.

  “Cheater! Cheater! That’s cheating!” she shouted. “The X’s have to be in a straight row!”

  Then she passed our Tic-Tac-Toad all around the bus. And all the other kids called me cheater too.

  Plus a mean boy named Jim called me the name of nutball.

  I hate that guy.

  After that, I scooted way over next to the window all by myself.

  “I shoulda took O’s,” I whispered very disappointed.

  Pretty soon, the bus pulled into my school parking lot.

  I hurried off that thing speedy quick.

  “Hey, Junie B.! Wait up!” yelled that Grace. “You and me can skip to the swing set together. Want to?”

  And so all of a sudden, I felt happy inside again. ’Cause skipping is my bestest game! I could cream her at that, I think!

  “Hey, Grace!” I hollered. “You and me can have a skipping race! The first one to the swings is the winner!”

  I took a big breath.

  “READY…GET SET…GO!” I shouted.

  Except for that Grace wasn’t actually off the bus yet.

  Only that’s not my problem.

  I skipped as fast as a speeding rocket.

  “I’m winning! I’m winning!” I shouted very thrilled.

  But just then, that Grace skipped right past me.

  “Hi, Junie B….bye, Junie B.!” she said.

  Then she touched the swing set before I did.

  “I won! I won!” she yelled. “I beat you at skipping! I told you I was a good game winner!”

  I stamped my foot at her. “No, you are not a good game winner, Grace,” I said. “’Cause your feet are way gianter than mine. And also you have pink high tops. So this race was not fair and square.”

  That Grace stuck her tongue out at me.

  “That is not attractive of you, madam,” I said.

  Then I turned around and saw my other bestest friend named Lucille!

  I runned to her speedy quick.

  “Hey, Lucille! It’s me! It’s your bestest friend, Junie B. Jones! Let’s not play with that Grace, okay? Let’s just play by ourselves. ’Cause you and me can have a hopping contest! And we can see who’s the bestest hopper!”

  Lucille fluffed her lacy dress.

  “Okay, but I’m not allowed to get sweaty. And also I must be careful of my fingernails.”

  She showed them to me.

  “See? The manicure lady painted them Apricot Ice. See how beauteous they are?”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” I said not looking.

  I took a giant breath.

  “READY…GET SET…GO!” I shouted.

  Then me and Lucille started hopping on one foot.

  We hopped and hopped and hopped.

  Only it wasn’t as fun as hopping with Grampa Miller. On account of Lucille didn’t get tired and fall over.

  “Look, Junie B.!” she said very squealy. “Look how bouncy I am! This is fun! Isn’t it?”

  I wiped my sweating head.

  “Yeah, only it would be funner if you fell over now, Lucille. ’Cause I just had a skipping contest with that Grace. And I’m a little pooped here.”

  “Look, Junie B.!” she said again. “Look how my fluffy skirt bounces over my head when I hop way high!”

  My face felt hottish and reddish.

  “I can see your underpants, Lucille,” I told her.

  Only that dumb Lucille didn’t even care if I could see her underpants. She just kept on hopping and hopping.

  Finally, I got tired and fell over.

  “Yea! Yea!” shouted Lucille. “I’m the winner! I’m the winner of hopping!”

  Just then, the school bell rang. And everybody ran to Room Nine.

  Except for not me.

  I walked very slow.

  All by myself.

  Mrs. was standing outside Room Nine.

  Mrs. is the name of my teacher. She has another name, too. But I just like Mrs. and that’s all.

  She smiled at me.

  “Why so glum today, Junie B.?” she asked.

  “’Cause people keep on beating me at all my games, that’s why. And so now I’m not the bestest winner anymore,” I said.

  Then I went to my seat. And I put my head down on my table.

  On account of glum is when the happy is gone right out of you.

  3/All About Carnivals

  Mrs. took attendance.

  Attendance is when you say the word here. Only I didn’t feel like saying it. So I just raised my hand very flimsy.

  “Are you feeling all right, Junie B.?” Mrs. asked.

  “She’s okay,” said Lucille. “She’s just mad because I beat her at hopping.”

  “YEAH, ONLY I ALREADY EXPLAINED THAT TO YOU, MADAM!” I shouted at Lucille’s face.

  Mrs. clapped her loud hands at me.

  “Junie B. Jones! That will be enough of that!” she said.

  I put my head on my table again. “This day is a bummer,” I whispered to just myself.

  Mrs. stood up at her desk.

  “Boys and girls. May I have your attention, please? I would like to talk to you about a special night coming up at school on Friday. It’s called Carnival Night. Does anyone know what a carnival is?”

  “I do! I do!” said that Jim I hate. “A carnival is like what they have at the state fair every year. There’re lots of rides there. Like the Ferris wheel and the Tilt-A-Whirl and the bumper cars.”

  “Yeah, and there’s a shooting gallery with fake ducks,” said Jamal Hall.

  “And there’s cotton candy that rots your teeth by eating big black holes in your protective tooth enamel,” said a boy I love named Ricardo.

  Ricardo’s mother is a dentist, I think.

  After that, a crybaby boy named William stood up very shy. And he said one time he rode the scary roller coaster. And he didn’t even cry that much. Except for he accidentally threw up his chili dog.

  Then Paulie Allen Puffer told about carnival food that he threw up, too.

  Like a candy apple.

  And caramel popcorn.

  And a rubber band.

  Except for that is not food. That is office supplies.

  I raised my hand. “Carnivals are rip-offs,” I said. “’Cause one time my daddy kept on trying to knock over three bottles with a ball. But even when he hit them, they wouldn’t fall down. So then he and Mother had to call the cops. And also Eyewitness News at Six and Ten.”

  Mrs. laughed out loud.

  “Yeah, only that is not a laughing matter,” I told her.

  She stopped smiling.

  “No. Of course it isn’t,” she said. “But I promise that nothing like that will happen at our school’s Carnival Night, Junie B. All the games are going to be run by the parents and teachers. And there will be hundreds of prizes to win.”

  I sat up a little bit straighter.

  “Hundreds?” I said.

  “Hundreds,” she said.

  “Yeah, only I don’t even know how to win them,” I said.

  And so Mrs. got out a piece of paper that told all about the carnival games.

  “Well, let’s see,” she said. “It says there will be a Fishing Booth, a Penny Toss, a Moon Walk Tent, a Putting Green, Cl
othespins in the Bottle, a Basketball Shoot, a Ring Toss, and a booth where you can throw wet sponges at our principal’s face.”

  Just then Room Nine started laughing very much. ’Cause throwing sponges at Principal is a dream come true, that’s why.

  Mrs. kept on reading. “It also says that Mrs. Hall, the art teacher, will be painting faces in the art room. And in our very own Room Nine, there is going to be a Cake Walk.”

  I jumped right out of my chair.

  “Hey! Guess what? Walking on cake is the funnest thing I love! ’Cause one time at a picnic, I stepped on my grampa’s Little Debbie snack cake with bare feet. And the creamy filling was very squishing between my toes!”

  “GOONIE!” shouted out that Jim I hate. “YOU GOONIE BIRD JONES! YOU DON’T WALK ON CAKE! A CAKE WALK IS A GAME WHERE YOU WIN A CAKE! RIGHT, TEACHER? RIGHT?”

  Mrs. made squinting eyes at him.

  “Yes, Jim. But we do not call people goonie birds. Calling people names is rude. Plus—if you want to make a comment—I would appreciate it if you would politely raise your hand.”

  “LIKE ME! RIGHT, MRS.?” I hollered out. “’CAUSE I RAISED MY HAND VERY POLITE WHEN I TOLD YOU THAT CARNIVALS WERE RIP-OFFS! REMEMBER THAT?”

  Then a lot of other kids shouted that they were very polite, too.

  And so I had to stand up on my chair so Mrs. could hear me.

  “YEAH, ONLY THEY CAN’T BE AS POLITE AS ME! RIGHT, MRS.? ’CAUSE I SAID IT FIRST! RIGHT? RIGHT?”

  Then Mrs. rubbed her head for a very long time.

  And also she took some aspirin.

  4/Very Practicing

  After school, I runned all the way home from my bus stop. That’s because Grandma Miller baby-sits me in the afternoon. And I wanted to tell her all about Carnival Night!

  “HEY, GRANDMA MILLER! IT’S ME! IT’S JUNIE B. JONES! YOUR GRANDGIRL! I’VE GOT SOME IMPORTANT NEWS FOR YOU! THERE’S GONNA BE A CARNIVAL AT MY SCHOOL! AND I CAN WIN A HUNDRED PRIZES AT THAT THING!”

  Grandma Miller hurried out of baby Ollie’s room. She looked grumpity at me.

  “Shh! Junie B.! Not so loud! I just put the baby down for his nap!”

  My shoulders got very slumping.

  “Yeah, only I’m excited down here, Helen,” I said.

  Then Grandma smiled a little bit.

  And she hugged me hello.

  And she said not to call her Helen.