by Judy Delton
They loaded the things into grocery bags and set off to sell them. When they got to the corner, Mary Beth said, “There’s Tracy’s house. Maybe she wants to buy some of these.”
When they went to her door, Tracy answered. She didn’t look glad to see them. And she didn’t want to buy any costumes. She had other things on her mind.
CHAPTER 7
The Hole in
the Bag
“My library book is lost!” she cried. “I can’t find it anyplace. I looked all over the house.”
Tracy sneezed three times. Maybe she had hay fever. Or else she was crying.
“It will turn up,” said Mary Beth. “It must be here someplace.”
The three of them went into the house to help Tracy look.
“I’ll bet someone in your family took it,” said Molly. “Maybe your sister is reading it.”
Tracy shook her head. “She can’t read yet,” she said. “And I asked my mom, and she hasn’t seen it. My dad isn’t even home.”
Molly looked under the dining room table and under the chairs. Mary Beth looked in the kitchen and in Tracy’s bedroom. Tim looked under the rugs.
“It wouldn’t be under the rug. We’d see a lump,” scoffed Mary Beth. “Was it a thick book?” she asked Tracy.
Tracy nodded. Then she sneezed.
“It will turn up,” said Molly. “Lots of times I lose stuff and it turns up later when I’m not even looking for it. Even if you find it after it’s due, you just have to pay a little fine. You don’t have to buy a whole new book. And you have two whole weeks to find it.”
Tracy shook her head. “I won’t,” she said. “It’s gone for good.”
“It couldn’t have walked away,” said Mary Beth. “It hasn’t got legs.”
A book with legs struck Tim as funny. He started laughing.
“Come and help us sell this stuff,” said Molly to Tracy. She told her about Tim’s even worse emergency. “You’ll find your book, but Tim’s is ruined forever.”
“I won’t find it,” said Tracy. She was crying now, and it wasn’t allergies. “There’s a hole in my book bag. I think it fell out on the way home.”
“Then all we have to do is look for it on the sidewalk when we’re selling this stuff,” said Mary Beth. “We can do both things at once!”
Tracy didn’t look very hopeful, but she got her box of tissues and followed them down the street.
At one house a man said, “Why would I want a halloween costume? I’m too old to dress up.”
“For your grandkids?” suggested Tim.
“I have none,” said the man, closing the door.
At the next house a lady bought a plastic pumpkin for ten cents.
“See?” said Molly. “We’ve got a sale already! We’ve got a dime!”
“Books cost about six dollars,” muttered Tim. “We’ll have to sell a lot of stuff.”
But by the end of the afternoon, they had sold only two more items. They had gone to twelve houses and made only forty cents. And they had not found Tracy’s book along the way.
The three girls and Tim wandered back to Tracy’s house and sat down on the front steps. This badge was definitely not going well.
First Roger read only baby books and would probably get the prize. Then the books Molly and Mary Beth chose had words they couldn’t read. The new ones probably were boring.
Tim’s book was ruined, and it looked as if it would take weeks to sell enough things to pay for it. Tracy’s book was lost, and she’d have pay a fine. That is, if she found it. Molly didn’t want to think what would happen if she didn’t. They might have to spend their lives selling old clothes door-to-door. For something as fun as reading, this should have been the best badge of all! But it wasn’t.
“It’s all Roger’s fault, you know,” said Mary Beth. “He is the thirteenth scout. He’s the one who brought us bad luck.”
Everyone agreed about that. There was no doubt that thirteen was an unlucky number. And even if it wasn’t, Roger had started them all out on the wrong foot.
“Maybe we aren’t old enough to take out books,” said Tim. “I think I’m too young to be responsible. And I can’t read anyway. Even those easy words.”
“Pooh,” said Tracy. “We’re plenty old enough to take out books.”
But Molly wondered if what Tim said was true. Tracy was a little careless to use a book bag with a hole. But maybe she hadn’t known it had a hole.
And for Tim it must be awful not to be able to read! Maybe Molly could help him.
“What does that sign say, Tim?” she asked, pointing to the stop sign at the corner.
“I don’t know,” said Tim. He squinted. Maybe he needs glasses, thought Molly. That would be still another problem if he did!
“S-t-o-p,” spelled Molly. She said the sound of each letter clearly for Tim.
“Stop!” shouted Tim, as if he’d read it himself.
Tracy rolled her eyes.
Mary Beth said, “He should start with board books.”
But Molly felt good. Tim had made a start. He just needed a little help.
Molly felt proud to be a help to Tim. And proud to be responsible for library books. Did her parents know what a good daughter they had? People should get credit for being good citizens!
Molly had to catch herself. Her grandma often said “Pride goes before a fall.” What did that mean? Did it mean if you were proud of something you did, you tripped on a stone on the sidewalk and fell and broke your leg?
Well, that wouldn’t happen to her. With all the problems she had faced in getting this badge, all the bad luck had to be behind her. How could things possibly get any worse?
When Molly got home, she found out.
CHAPTER 8
Dog Day Afternoon
Tracy went home to try to find her book. Mary Beth went home to read. Tim just went home. To sound out words, Molly hoped.
Molly was anxious to get home to read too. She ran all the way. She threw open the front door. There were scraps of paper on the hall floor. Where were they from? Had her mother torn up the ads in the mail that said “Resident” and dropped them by mistake?
Molly bent over to pick up the scraps and saw that they looked like parts of a book. Then she looked at Skippy, who was hiding under a chair. The dog had a guilty look on his face.
Molly picked up her library books. One was fine, but the other one was only a cover! The inside was gone! On the spine Molly could see teeth marks. Skippy’s teeth marks!
“Oh, no!” she cried. “You ate my book!” she said to Skippy. “Bad dog!”
Skippy put one paw over his face. Molly had scared him. Now she felt guilty. It wasn’t really his fault. No one had told him not to eat library books.
Molly remembered that she had left them on the floor. That was careless. Careless as Tracy had been. But who could know Skippy would eat a book? He had food in his dish!
Puppies ate things sometimes, but Skippy wasn’t a puppy anymore. He wasn’t exactly full-grown either. He liked to chew on bones and shoes and sticks.
Molly wondered if they did operations on dogs to remove valuable things they’d eaten. Maybe it was like in “Little Red Riding Hood,” where the grandma was inside the wolf and they got her out alive and well!
Was Molly’s book alive and well in Skippy’s stomach?
Molly didn’t think so. It would be wet and chewed. And operations on dogs were expensive. Vets were like doctors.
Molly picked up all the scraps. There were not enough to make one page, even if she glued them together. The rest of the book was in Skippy.
Molly knew she should tell her parents, but she was not ready to let them know she was not responsible. Not old enough for a library card. No, what she needed was time to think.
Now she had three books to worry about: Tim’s, Tracy’s, and her own. Darn that Roger! His bad luck was spreading fast.
“Is that you, Molly?” called Mrs. Duff from upstairs.
Molly
hid all the book scraps in her pocket and said, “Yes, it’s me.”
“Was it an exciting day at the library, dear?” asked her mother, coming down the stairs. “Did you and Mary Beth get some good books?”
“Yes,” said Molly. It was not a lie. They had been good books. Once. Right now one was a dead book.
“I’m going up to my room to read,” said Molly. She dashed up the steps before her mother could ask to see what books she’d chosen.
In her room, Molly sat down at her desk to think. She got out a notebook and pencil to help her. It always felt better to make a list when there was a problem.
She made a big “1.” Then she wrote, “Find a way to pay for Skippy’s book without my parents finding out.”
Actually it wasn’t Skippy’s book—he had no library card. But it wasn’t her book either, anymore.
“2,” she printed. “Help Tim earn money to pay for his book.”
Last, she wrote, “3. Find Tracy’s book, or help her find a way to pay for it.”
Rat’s knees, there seemed to be an awful lot of books missing! Molly wondered if any of the other Pee Wees were having book trouble.
When meeting day came on Tuesday, Molly found out they weren’t. Everyone but Molly, Tim, and Tracy had their books safely in book bags. Not one was damaged, lost, or eaten. And lots of the Pee Wees had book reports written!
“Mrs. Peters!” said Rachel, waving her hand. “I have six book reports done!”
“I have four,” said Patty Baker. “And I read a chapter out loud to my mom.”
“I’ve got sixteen!” yelled Roger.
“But ten of your baby books make one,” said Kenny. “So you really only have about one and a half.”
Roger frowned and sat down.
“How many book reports have you done?” Mary Beth asked Jody.
Jody was not the kind of person to brag. That was one of the things Molly liked about him.
“Oh, not many,” he said.
But Molly could see lots of books in his bag, and lots of neatly written reports sticking out of them.
“I think he’s got about twenty,” whispered Ashley.
“Did you tell Mrs. Peters about losing your book?” Molly asked Tracy.
Tracy shook her head. “No,” she said. “We have to find it, or pay for it.”
Molly noticed she said “we.” Well, that was what Scouts were for. To help each other. If a Scout wouldn’t help, who would?
“I’m not telling either,” said Tim.
It was all right for them, thought Molly. They had already told Molly. But who would Molly tell about what Skippy had done? She felt that she had to tell someone or she’d explode. She wanted to tell her best friend, Mary Beth, but it was embarrassing to admit she had been careless. Especially after Tim and Tracy had asked Molly for help. And what could Mary Beth do? She didn’t have money to pay for three books!
Molly had written three reports on favorite books she had read during the summer, but her heart wasn’t in it. And she’d need a lot more than three to win the prize. Three might be enough for her badge, but what would happen when Mrs. Peters found out about the book Skippy had eaten? Would that disqualify her? Maybe what she read and wrote wouldn’t count. Was there a rule that said “No badge allowed to people who were proud”? It rhymed. Or “No badge for a book read by a crook”?
Now Molly could not stop rhyming! Her mind was spinning with funny rhymes about sad subjects.
“No badge is what I hate, for a book my doggie ate.”
“To the library I can jog, but my book is in my dog.”
Too bad the badge wasn’t for writing a poem, instead of reading a book!
Tim interrupted her thoughts by asking,
“When are you guys going to help me earn some money for the book you ruined?”
Molly frowned. “You ruined it first! Anyway, I’ve got problems of my own!” she said. Why wasn’t Tim grateful for all her help?
Mary Beth looked at her. It wasn’t like Molly to be cross with her friends. “What problems?” Mary Beth asked.
But before Molly could answer, Mrs. Peters tapped on the table. She held up a book. It was Tracy’s lost book! How in the world did she get it? wondered Molly.
“Tracy, this book was turned in to the library by Mrs. Swenson, who lives in the neighborhood. She found it on the lawn. I believe it was taken out on your card.”
Tracy turned bright red. But she was smiling. She might have been careless, but she had her book back! She didn’t have to sell any more Halloween costumes!
Tracy thanked Mrs. Peters and put the book into her new book bag. Mrs. Peters talked about carelessness.
Rat’s knees, thought Molly. One down and two to go. It was not likely that Mrs. Swenson would come up with her book or Tim’s. They were probably gone forever.
CHAPTER 9
Time Is
Running Out
“Well, that’s a relief,” said Mary Beth on the way home. “Tracy was lucky.”
Molly could not keep the bad news inside any longer. “Skippy ate my book!” she said. “Now I have to pay for it.”
Mary Beth stopped walking. “How could he eat a book?” she asked. “Dogs don’t eat paper.”
“He did,” said Molly. It didn’t matter how or why.
“Well, we’re back where we started,” said Mary Beth. “I’ll go home and think of what we can do.”
When Molly got home she went up to her room and sat at her desk. She started to doodle in her notebook. She wrote more rhymes because it made her feel better. She wrote a poem about spring, and one about school. Then—because Skippy was on her mind—she wrote one about pets. She was so busy finding a word to rhyme with terrier that she forgot all about the book. It was fun to rhyme! The pet poem turned out the best, and Molly liked it. She drew a fancy frame around it with her crayon.
All week Molly read books and wrote reports. And all week she worried about how to earn money to pay the librarian.
“I have an idea!” said Mary Beth, on the phone on Monday. “Let’s have a garage sale!”
“You need a lot of stuff for a garage sale,” said Molly. “A garageful of stuff. Or people won’t come.”
“I suppose so,” said Mary Beth. “All I’ve got is that Halloween stuff. Maybe we should look for jobs. Most people earn money from their jobs. We could look at the want ads and go to work.”
“We aren’t old enough,” said Molly sensibly.
“We could use makeup and wear my sister’s high heels,” said her friend.
“We still wouldn’t look like sixteen!” said Molly. “And they would probably want a note from our parents. Our mothers wouldn’t lie.”
“We may just have to tell Mrs. Nelson, and take out a loan or something,” said Mary Beth.
Molly didn’t like that idea at all. Still, time was running out. The ruined books would be due soon at the library, and then what?
“I saw a book at the library called 101 Ways to Earn Money in Your Spare Time,” said Molly. “I’m going to check it out.”
But when Molly asked Mrs. Nelson for the book, she said it was out.
“It’s a very popular book,” said the librarian. “All the Pee Wees have been asking for it. I’ll call you when it comes in.”
When it came in, Mrs. Nelson did call her, and Molly checked it out. Molly read it from cover to cover. Why did everyone want it? she wondered. All that was in it were instructions for making pots and dishes out of clay. There wasn’t time for that.
Just when Molly thought earning money for the books was hopeless, the phone rang. It was Tim.
“Guess what?” he said. He didn’t give Molly time to guess. He said, “We’ve got this great big apple tree in our yard.” He paused. Then he said, “A-p-p-l-e. Apple.”
Tim could spell apple! It was longer than stop! That was good news!
“The tree has a million apples on it,” he went on. “Big red ones. R-e-d. Red.”
Molly sighed. This
was not solving her problem.
“My mom made all these pies and stuff and gave lots of the apples to the neighbors and my aunt, but there are still zillions. My uncle picked them and put them in grocery sacks.”
Molly was getting cross. This conversation was taking valuable time away from thinking about how to earn money for the lost books.
“My mom said that if we sold them, we could keep the money,” Tim went on. “And I was thinking that I’ll bet we could get enough to pay for the book if we did.”
“Books,” corrected Molly. “My dog ate mine,” she added.
Now Molly was sorry that she had been cross with Tim. Apples! What a good thing to sell! It was better than old Halloween stuff. It was legal, it was free, and they didn’t have to be adults to do it!
“I’ll be over in the morning!” said Molly. “Real early! That’s a great idea, Tim!”
Molly hung up and called Mary Beth and Tracy, and they agreed to help.
In the morning Tim was in front of his house with the apples. Lots and lots of rosy red apples.
“My mom said we can give them away if we can’t sell them,” he said. “But I thought it would be better to sell them and earn our book money.”
“You bet!” said Mary Beth.
Tracy had brought a sign that said FOR SALE. She set it in front of the bags of apples. “The sign is from our old car,” she said. “We sold it for a hundred dollars.”
“We can’t get a hundred dollars for these apples,” said Tim.
“We don’t need a hundred dollars,” said Molly. “We just need about twenty.”
“Let’s charge one dollar a bag,” said Mary Beth.
That seemed reasonable to Molly. It was cheaper than store apples. And these were fresher.
Instead of sneezing today, Tracy was yawning. “It’s my new allergy pills,” she said. “I don’t sneeze so much now, but the pills make me sleepy.”
Molly wondered if being sleepy was better than sneezing. If Tracy fell asleep in school, she might get bad grades and fail. If one problem was solved, another one was right there to take its place, Molly thought. Tracy sat under a tree and leaned against the bags of apples. Before long she dozed off.