HOW CAN AMBER START THE SCHOOL YEAR WITH NO BEST FRIEND?
My mother smiles at me. “New clothes. New shoes. All ready for a brand-new school year. Fourth grade, get ready for Amber Brown.”
I think about what she just said.
Not only does fourth grade need to get ready for me. . . I need to get ready for it.
I think of how Justin and I used to pretend we were knights.
Before we would go off to slay dragons, one of us would yell, “THE BRAVE KNIGHTS GO FORTH!”
To get ready for my new grade, I’m going to have to say to myself, AMBER BROWN GOES FOURTH.
It’s not going to be easy without Justin.
Read all the Amber Brown books!
Amber Brown Goes Fourth
Amber Brown Is Feeling Blue
Amber Brown Is Green with Envy
Amber Brown Is Not a Crayon
Amber Brown Is Tickled Pink
Amber Brown Sees Red
Amber Brown Wants Extra Credit
Forever Amber Brown
I, Amber Brown
You Can’t Eat Your Chicken Pox, Amber Brown
PUFFIN BOOKS
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First published in the United States of America by G. P. Putnam’s Sons,
a division of Penguin Putnam Books for Young Readers, 1995
Published by Puffin Books, a member of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2007
Copyright © Paula Danziger, 1995
Illustrations copyright © Tony Ross, 1995
All rights reserved
THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS HAS CATALOGED THE G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS EDITION AS FOLLOWS:
Danziger, Paula, 1944-2004
Amber Brown goes fourth/by Paula Danziger.
p. cm.
Summary: Entering fourth grade, Amber faces some changes in her life as her best friend moves away and her parents divorce.
[1. Friendship—Fiction. 2. Divorce—Fiction. 3. Schools—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.D2394A1 1995
[Fic]—dc20 94-41935 CIP AC
ISBN: 978-1-101-66061-4
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
To Earl and Shirley Binin
who taught me to celebrate creativity
and individuality
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
AMBER BROWN WANTS EXTRA CREDIT
Chapter
One
“You’re the kid who has to put her right shoe on before her left.” The salesman comes up to me with the foot-measuring thing.
“Yup.” I nod. “You remember!”
“How can I forget?” The salesman puts my right foot into the measurer. “The one time I didn’t do it your way, you refused to get any shoes . . . . and you accused me of ruining your day . . . . and you threatened to report me to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children Who Need to Put Their Right Shoe On Before Their Left.”
I hold out my right foot and wonder why he’s acting like that’s so strange. I’m sure that I’m not the only person in the whole entire world who likes to have some things done a certain way. With the way my life goes, it’s nice to be sure of some things . . . and I’m sure that I like to put my right shoe on before my left. It makes me feel weird if my left shoe goes on first. In fact, it messes up my entire day.
A little kid comes over and grabs my foot, the left one.
“Foot,” she says.
Her mother picks her up. “Sorry she’s bothering you. She’s learning the names for body parts.”
I’m glad that the foot is the part of the body she decided to name.
All around us there are kids . . . . trying on shoes . . . . blowing up balloons . . . . . yelling, “I want those”; “I hate those.”
One kid is throwing a temper tantrum because his mother won’t buy him sandals for school.
The salesman continues, “And you’ve got that very colorful name.”
I sigh.
My mother looks at her watch.
He thinks for a minute. “Ebony Black. . . . . No, that’s not it. Pearl White. No.”
“AMBER BROWN,” I remind him, “and I don’t like to be teased about it.”
“Isn’t there another family that you always come in with to buy shoes for the new school year?” he asks. “With two little boys, one about your age?”
“They’ve moved away,” my mother says softly.
All of a sudden, I get this empty feeling inside of me.
This will be the first time in my life that I’ll be starting school without my best friend, Justin Daniels.
I try not to think about it.
I’ve been trying not to think about it all summer, especially since I got back from England with my aunt Pam.
My mother puts her hand on mine. “She’d like to see the sneakers with the rhinestones on them.”
The man puts down the measurer and looks up information on a card file. “She’s grown. Up another shoe size. . . . . Oh, well . . . . it could have been worse. She could have grown another foot. Then you’d have to buy three shoes.” He laughs at his own joke. “Just a little shoe-business humor.”
As he goes to the back of the store, he sings, “There’s no business like shoe business.”
I look at my mother.
She looks at me and shrugs. “The shoes are good quality and cheaper here than the other store. I know he drives you nuts . . . but think what you would be like if you had to be with children and their feet all day.”
“It would be a real feat.” I giggle.
“You would have to put your heart into it, body and soles.”
We both start to laugh.
By the time the guy comes back, my mother and I are both singing, “There’s no business like shoe business.”
He joins in.
I try on my new shoes.
They’re perfect.
My mother smiles at me. “New clothes. New shoes. All ready for a brand-new school year. Fourth grade, get ready for Amber Brown.”
I think about what she’s just said.
Not only does fourth grade
need to get ready for me. . . . I need to get ready for it.
I think of how Justin and I used to pretend that we were knights.
Before we would go off to slay dragons, one of us would yell, “THE BRAVE KNIGHTS GO FORTH!”
To get ready for my new grade, I’m going to have to say to myself, AMBER BROWN GOES FOURTH.
It’s not going to be easy without Justin.
Chapter
Two
Sitting on my bed, I look at my “Dad Book.” It’s filled with pictures of my father alone, of him with me, with pictures of the three of us—Mom, Dad, and me. There are even some pictures of just the two of them, before they decided to separate.
Since my mother doesn’t like to have pictures of my father around the house, I made up the Dad Book.
If I ever get to visit my dad in France, I’ve decided to make up a “Mom Book” to take with me. Something tells me that he doesn’t have pictures of her around his apartment. He does have pictures of me though. He told me that when he came over to England to see me when I got chicken pox and couldn’t go to him.
Sometimes I talk to the book as if my dad is really here.
Today is one of those days.
“I’m a little nervous about school starting. It’s going to be the first time that you’re not here for the first day of school. And Justin’s not here either.”
I look at the picture of my dad, which was taken when we went to Great Adventure. He’s grinning . . . . . and he’s got a piece of cotton candy stuck on his nose.
He can’t say anything.
I continue, “Actually, I’m more than just a little nervous . . . I’m scared. Fourth grade . . . . that’s supposed to be pretty hard . . . . and Mr. Cohen’s not going to be my teacher this year. . . . What if my brain is so filled with everything from nursery school, kindergarten, first, second, and third grade that I don’t have room in it to put any new facts? What if I get a desk that wobbles? Or a desk that some dumb kid sat in last year and there’s still some dumb kidness on the desk that’s going to rub off on me?” I can almost hear my father laugh as I say that.
It even makes me smile . . . . . a little . . . and then I continue, “What if nobody wants to be my best friend? Daddy, I’m really out of practice for making best friends. I haven’t had to do it since preschool—and I didn’t even have to think about it then.”
Then I give the picture a kiss.
I can almost taste the cotton candy on his nose. “And Daddy, this is the big news: Mommy is going out with this guy named Max. She started going out with him while I was in England. And I think she really likes him. And she says that he really likes her.”
I look at the picture of my father.
He’s still smiling.
I’m not. “When I got back, Mommy wanted me to meet Max, but I didn’t want to.”
I think about how I don’t want her to have a boyfriend, not unless it’s my dad. When she told me all about him, I got really upset and I really cried, not make-believe-to-try-to-get-my-own-way tears, but real tears. So then she said that I don’t have to meet him for a while, not unless it gets VERY serious.
I start talking to the picture of my dad again. “This could get VERY serious, Dad. If you are thinking about coming back to us, you better do it soon. I’m getting worried.
“Max doesn’t even live here. He lives in a whole different town. What if Mommy and Max decide to get married? Then you and Mommy won’t be able to be married. What if they decide to move to his town . . . . . . . and what if I have to go to a different school?”
My father says nothing.
Maybe I should call him and talk to the real person, not just his picture.
But then I don’t think I could say all of this to him really . . . . . or to my mother . . . . or to anyone.
“How does this look?” My mother walks into my room.
I close my Dad Book, turn it upside down, and look at her.
She’s wearing a black skirt, a raspberry-colored blouse, and jewelry.
Actually, she looks really pretty, but I’m not sure I want to tell her that.
I sniff the air. “You’ve got a lot of perfume on.”
Then I scrunch my nose up.
Actually, she smells good, but I don’t want to tell her that either.
She adds a black belt to the outfit and looks in my full-length mirror.
Then she looks at me. “What time is What’s His Face picking you up?” I ask.
“MAX is picking me up any minute.” She gives me a look.
“What time will you be home?” I take a strand of hair and start to chew on it.
“I’m not sure, but, honey, you don’t have to worry. Joanie said that she’ll spend the night. And I’ll be home long before you wake up in the morning.”
I continue to chew on my hair. “Maybe I won’t go to sleep until you come back.”
My mother sighs. “It’s going to be very late.”
“I’ll wait up.”
She tries to change the subject. “Honey, please don’t chew on your hair. You know how Aunt Pam’s cat, Cheshire, is always coughing up hair balls and leaving them all over the place. I’m afraid that you’re going to start doing that.”
She points to a corner and teases, “You know, little Amber hair balls everywhere.”
Even though I think it’s funny, I don’t smile. “I’ll stay awake until you get home. So don’t stay out too late.”
She looks like she’s going to give me a lecture, but then all she says is, “Okay.”
I know that she’s sure that I’ll fall asleep, but I won’t.
I know I won’t.
Chapter
Three
I’m not going to get out of bed.
Not today.
Not tomorrow.
Not for the entire school year, which starts today.
It was hard getting out of bed yesterday and listening to Mom after her big date with Max.
She likes him, really likes him.
She says that she’s sure that I’m really going to like him, too.
I’m sure that I really won’t.
I don’t ever want to meet him.
I don’t ever want to like him.
I’m very sure that I won’t.
And I’m also sure that I don’t want to get out of bed and go to school.
My alarm clock oinks at me.
Actually, it’s a combination piggy bank and alarm clock.
It’s a pig taking a bubble bath, a present from Aunt Pam.
When I put money in, it snorts and thanks me.
When the alarm goes off, it oinks.
I push down the button, stop the alarm, and put a pillow over my head.
In about four minutes, the Mom Alarm pulls the pillow off my head to wake me up.
This alarm is a real person who rumples my hair and says different things depending on the day.
After her date with Max, she woke me up saying, “I told you that you would fall asleep.”
Today, Mom Alarm pulls the pillow off my head and says, “Wake up, darling. . . . It’s the first day of school.”
There’s no button to turn the Mom Alarm off.
Opening my eyes just enough to sort of see her, I say, “Fourth grade’s not so important. Wake me up this time next year and I’ll think about fifth grade.”
My mother tickles me. “Get showered. Get dressed. Be downstairs in half an hour to get a nutritious, yummy breakfast. Then I’ll drive you to school.”
“I can walk to school. You haven’t had to drive me there for two years.”
I think about how I used to walk to and from school with Justin. Then after school, I used to stay at his house until my mom came home.
Now everything has changed.
I repeat, “Mom, I can walk to school.”
My mother sighs. “We’ve already had this discussion. I don’t want you to walk there alone, so I’ll drive you to school, and at the end of the day I’ll pick you up after
Elementary Extension.”
I put the pillow over my head.
Elementary Extension. It’s this special program for kids who can’t go home right after school.
It’s all Justin’s father’s fault. If he hadn’t gotten that stupid new job, all our lives wouldn’t have had to change.
I wonder if Justin’s mom is waking him up right now too.
And I wonder if he’s thinking about how different it’s going to be for him . . . . and if he’s missing me, too.
“Rise and shine, my darling daughter.” My mom pulls the pillow off my head and uses her voice that says “Now get out of bed if you wish to remain my darling daughter.”
She also starts tickling my feet.
I, Amber Brown, do not like to have my feet tickled.
In fact, I hate it.
So I get out of bed, tripping over my new school notebook.
Picking up the notebook, I put it next to my pencil box.
I’ve decorated the box with all sorts of stickers and filled it with pens, pencils, and erasers.
Taking my shower, I think about a lot of things. . . . . What will my new teacher be like? Which desk will I sit in? Who will sit next to me? Will Hannah Burton still be mean to me? Will some of the boys still be so immature? Will there be any new kids in the class who will need a new friend?
I get out of the shower, dry off, and brush my teeth and my hair (not with the same brush).
Clothes.
I put on black leggings and a long T-shirt that Aunt Pam bought me this summer. It’s got a map of the London underground, their subway, on it. I’ve never worn it, saving it for the first day of school.
On go my new shoes, right shoe first and then the left.
I wonder if Justin is putting on his shoes right now.
I wonder if he remembers to lace them or if he’s going to trip because I’m not there to remind him to lace them . . . or if someone else will remind him.
My notebooks and writing stuff go into my new flourescent-pink knapsack, along with the good-luck troll that Aunt Pam gave me a couple of years ago.
I hear the phone ring.
Amber Brown Goes Fourth Page 1