by Judy Blume
“Hey . . . come back with those,” I said, chasing her across the room. I handed her a rubber mouse, and she dropped the puzzle pieces.
“I’m not crazy about the idea of commuting,” Dad said, “but if the rest of you want to stay in Princeton, I’ll do it.”
“Commuting?” I asked.
“Yes,” Dad said. “I’m going back to work at the agency.”
“No more writing?” I asked.
“Not for now,” Dad said. “I’ve found out I’m not very good at it. I may never finish my book.”
I knew he wouldn’t. But I didn’t say so.
“I’m very good at advertising, though,” Dad continued. “And I’m anxious to get back to work.” He looked at me. “But that doesn’t mean I want to be president of the agency, Peter.”
“I know . . . I know . . .” I said. “What about you, Mom? What are you going to do?”
“Well . . . with Daddy going back to work at the agency, I’d really like to get started on my art history classes . . . maybe at N.Y.U.”
“That’s in the city, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Mom said. “In Greenwich Village.”
“So you both want to go back to the city?” I asked.
They touched hands and Mom said, “I guess we do.”
“What about you, Peter?” Dad asked. “What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m used to it here, but I still miss New York.”
“I don’t remember New York,” Fudge said.
“Of course you do,” I told him.
“No, I don’t,” he said. “Can I ride my bike there?”
“In some places,” I said. “Like Central Park.”
“I remember Central Park,” Fudge said.
“And you remember our apartment,” I told him. “And the elevator and Henry . . .”
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot about Henry and the elevator.”
Mom and Dad laughed.
“What about you, Tootsie?” Fudge said. “Where do you want to live . . . Princeton or New York?”
“Yuck!” Tootsie said.
“Did you hear that?” Fudge asked.
“Yuck!” Tootsie said again.
Mom and Dad exchanged surprised looks.
“That’s Tootsie’s first word,” Fudge said. “She wants to live in New York, too!”
“Nu yuck!” Tootsie said.
I realized that I was the only one who knew that Tootsie had been saying yuck all day. And I wasn’t about to tell them that it had nothing to do with the city.
“That makes it unanimous!” Fudge said.
“What a big word,” Mom said.
“I know a lot of big words,” Fudge told her. “You’d be surprised at how many big words I know.”
“Fudgie,” Mom said, “you’re just full of surprises.”
* * *
So, we’re going back, I thought. Back to The Big Apple. Back to our apartment. Back to Jimmy Fargo and Sheila Tubman and my rock in the park. Back to walking Turtle and back to the Pooper-Scooper. But it’s worth it. It’s all worth it. I picked up Tootsie and swung her around. I couldn’t help laughing. And Tootsie laughed too. To some people there’s no place like Nu Yuck. And I guess I’m one of them!
Click here for more titles by this author
Want more Fudge?
Fudge-a-Mania
Who’s the Lucky Bride?
“Guess what, Pete?” my brother, Fudge, said. “I’m getting married tomorrow.”
I looked up from my baseball cards. “Isn’t this kind of sudden?” I asked, since Fudge is only five.
“No,” he said.
“Well . . . who’s the lucky bride?”
“Sheila Tubman,” Fudge said.
I hit the floor, pretending to have fainted dead away. I did a good job of it because Fudge started shaking me and shouting, “Get up, Pete!”
What’s with this Pete business? I thought. Ever since he could talk, he’s called me Pee-tah.
Then Tootsie, my sister, who’s just a year and a half, danced around me singing, “Up, Pee . . . up.”
Next, Mom was beside me saying, “Peter . . . what happened? Are you all right?”
“I told him I was getting married,” Fudge said. “And he just fell over.”
“I fell over when you told me who you were marrying,” I said.
“Who are you marrying, Fudge?” Mom asked, as if we were seriously discussing his wedding.
“Sheila Tubman,” Fudge said.
“Don’t say that name around me,” I told him, “or I’ll faint again.”
“Speaking of Sheila Tubman . . .” Mom began.
But I didn’t wait for her to finish. “You’re making me feel very sick . . .” I warned.
“Really, Peter . . .” Mom said. “Aren’t you overdoing it?”
I clutched my stomach and moaned but Mom went right on talking. “Buzz Tubman is the one who told us about the house in Maine.”
“M-a-i-n-e spells Maine,” Fudge sang.
Mom looked at him but didn’t even pause. “And this house is right next to the place they’ve rented for their vacation,” she told me.
“I’m missing something here,” I said. “What house? What vacation?”
“Remember we decided to go away for a few weeks in August?”
“Yeah . . . so?”
“So we got a great deal on a house in Maine.”
“And the Tubmans are going to be next door?” I couldn’t believe this. “Sheila Tubman . . . next door . . . for two whole weeks?”
“Three,” Mom said.
I fell back flat on the floor.
“He did it again, Mom!” Fudge said.
“He’s just pretending,” Mom told Fudge. “He’s just being very silly.”
“So I don’t have to marry Sheila tomorrow,” Fudge said. “I’ll marry her in Maine.”
“That makes more sense,” Mom said. “In Maine you can have a nice wedding under the trees.”
“Under the trees,” Fudge said.
“Tees . . .” Tootsie said, throwing a handful of Gummi Bears in my face.
And that’s how it all began.
BOOKS BY JUDY BLUME
The Pain and the Great One
Soupy Saturdays with the Pain and the Great One
Cool Zone with the Pain and the Great One
Going, Going, Gone! with the Pain and the Great One
Friend or Fiend? with the Pain and the Great One
The One in the Middle Is the Green Kangaroo
Freckle Juice
THE FUDGE BOOKS
Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing
Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great
Superfudge
Fudge-a-Mania
Double Fudge
Blubber
Iggie’s House
Starring Sally J. Freedman as Herself
Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret
It’s Not the End of the World
Then Again, Maybe I Won’t
Deenie
Just as Long as We’re Together
Here’s to You, Rachel Robinson
Tiger Eyes
Forever
Letters to Judy
Places I Never Meant to Be: Original Stories by Censored Writers (edited by Judy Blume)