E
Nooooo, N another N!
D
Well, that’s right anyway.
“We win! We win!” John Royale shouts,
and his team begins to cheer.
Allegra’s team crosses their fingers
and squinches their faces tight.
But how can her spelling possibly be right?
Everyone stares at Ms. Harner.
Ms. Harner closes the book with a clap.
“Correct!” she says.
Allegra gives us a thumbs-up,
but she doesn’t smile.
ALLEGRA CAN SPELL ANYTHING
Baloney, balloon, or boogaloo,
Concert,
Dictionary,
Eclipse, éclair, electricity,
Finicky, filigree, frail,
Give her the
Hardest, most
Irregular, most brain-
Jamming, old-fashioned,
Kid-stumping,
Longer-than-a-yardstick,
Multi-million-syllables, or trillion-billion-vowel word—
and it won’t matter.
Nothing’s too hard,
Or odd or off-base, too
Peculiar,
Quirky, quizzical, or
Rare.
She can spell the
Toughest, the terrifying, the totally
Unusual, the wackiest, and
Very most vexing and
Weirdest of words, like xaphoon,
Xerox, or xerography, and she always gets them right.
Yikes! She even takes our challenge and spells
Hippopotomonstrosesquipedalian.
“Zowie! What a zinger!” she says,
zipping her lips with a zesty zip
to show that she is done.
WEIRD
When we’re done with baseball,
I tell Allegra that she’s a good speller.
“Entwined was really hard,” I say.
“W-E-I-R-D,” she says.
I think she means that’s how you spell it.
I don’t think she means me.
But she doesn’t smile, so it’s hard to tell.
ALLEGRA WONDERS
Why is she smiling?
Does she want to be my friend?
Should I talk to her?
KEET WONDERS
Why doesn’t she smile?
Does she want to be my friend?
Should I talk to her?
MATH CLASS
Long Divi4sion, arith88metic,
subtracti2on, and multip9lication:
numbers tumble
and spin in my head.
I have numbers blizzarding
in my 5brain, and numbers
storming behind my eyes4.
I try to do what the teacher
says, but the numbers won’t
hold sti567ll. They get all mixed
up with everything and spill out
everywhere. I have numbers
tangled in my braid9s, numbers
caught between my t2eeth,
4, 5, 6, and 7 stuck to my tongue,
and 177 tickling my nose.
Now the number blizzard
is a thunder2storm. I’ve got a number
tornado turning, tur3ning, tur3ning
in my brain, a number earthquake
breaking up my thoug7hts.
Letters and numbers
are tum7bling and churn44ing,
swirling and swimm99ing.
I can’t sort the numbers out
or tell the words a3part.
I want to shout STOP!
Stop spinning. Be still!
But only 0 comes out.
CAFETERIA
Cheesy pizza smell.
Grab the trays and lunch boxes.
We can’t wait to eat.
In the school cafeteria, I get my tray, and Ms. Scott reminds us to sit with our class, but when I get near the table no one moves over. The girls all sit with girls. The boys all sit with boys. Everyone stares at me. John Royale makes a face. I don’t know where to sit. Allegra sits next to Sonya and Gabby. I see them talking, but Allegra scooches over so that I can sit beside her, and I do. I see her looking at my cookie. It is a good cookie. It is a super-extra tummy-yummy gooey-with-chocolate cookie. I want it, but I am being nice since she was nice to me. So I put the cookie on her tray. Allegra takes it and mumbles “anks.” I smile at her again to show her I am being nice. But she doesn’t smile back. She eats my whole cookie, and doesn’t give me any of it.
WEDNESDAY: LIBRARY
Today, the class gets to spend
a whole hour in the library.
We can read whatever we want.
We can sign up to be library helpers.
Ms. Lindle sees me
staring at the books.
“Do you like to read?” she asks.
I nod my head.
“Oh good,” she says.
“Let me tell you about our new books.”
Ms. Lindle talks and talks and talks.
I think she talks about every book in the world.
She talks about all the things you can do in the library.
She talks about authorvisits,bookbags,
bookclubs,bookdisplays,bookbingo,bookfairs,bookmarks,
booksontape,computergames,crafttables,FridayFilms,magazines,
NewReaders,WednesdayWriters,PizzaNite,
and all about the special guest who’s coming in two weeks.
“A storyteller!” she says.
Before I can stop, I say,
“I tell stories too.”
“You do?” Ms. Lindle smiles.
“Can you tell me one of your stories?”
I start to tell her
about Noah and the Terrible, Horrible,
Kid-Eating Dog, but then I remember
that I talk funny.
I remember the dog should be “yellow,”
not “yella.”
I remember the kids making fun
of me and how my words get wedged
in my throat.
“Maybe next time,” I say.
“Maybe next time,” she says.
TIME
Give it time.
You’ll make friends.
You’ll fit in.
Give it time.
It’ll get better.
It’ll get easier.
I watch the clock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
When?
ALWAYS TOGETHER
When we’re together,
Grandpa is slow water,
and I’m the bubbles rising,
I’m the minnow dart-dart-darting,
I’m the bob-bob-bobbin.
When we’re together,
Grandpa is a turtle
sunbathing on a log.
I’m the beat of a heron’s wing.
I’m a dragonfly.
When we’re together,
Grandpa is a catfish
waiting deep down low.
But I’m a sunfish.
I’m a wiggly tadpole.
When we’re together,
we fit together just right
like tackle and box,
like marsh and mallow.
I’m Fish Bait.
He’s Grandpa.
Best Friends Forever and fishing buds.
Chapter 4
THIRD WEEK: A FRIEND, MAYBE?
HULLO!
“For ‘Dream Day,’
Allegra has brought her cockatoo
because her dream is to be a veterinarian.
Go ahead, Allegra, but before you start,
tell us about Molly Cockatoo.
How long have you had her?”
“For a year,” Allegra says,
lifting Molly from the cage.
“Can she talk?”
Chloe asks.
“She can say hello.”
“Hullo!” Molly cro
aks.
Everyone laughs.
“And she can say pretty girl!
and peanut. She can learn new words.
But you have to say them
over,
and over,
and over.”
“How did you get her?”
Keith asks.
“We brought her home
from the animal shelter
where my mother works.
Molly had a broken foot.”
“Can we hold her?”
someone else asks.
“Let me hold her first,”
John Royale says.
“Let me hold her!”
Allegra squinches her lips together.
“There are too many of us to pet Molly,”
Ms. Harner says. “Let’s listen
to Allegra’s report. She wants
to tell us about her dream,
her dream to be a veterinarian.”
But everyone wants to hold Molly.
Everyone wants to feed her a peanut.
John Royale bumps Allegra’s arm
and pretends to sneeze: KAH-CHOOOOO!
Ah-Awkkkk! Molly squawks,
batting her wings and flying up, up,
and over our heads.
“Molly!” Allegra calls,
but it’s too late.
When Ms. Lindle opens the door,
with new books for our reading center,
Molly—Ah-Awk!—flies out into the hall.
The bell rings, and the hall
fills with noisy hurry and rumbling feet.
Through the door, we see
Ms. Lindle’s book truck
and Mr. Paul’s janitor cart,
but no Molly Cockatoo.
GONE!
“Oh dear,” says Ms. Harner.
“I’m sorry, Allegra,” Ms. Lindle says.
“I’ll look for it,” Mr. Paul says,
pushing his cart away.
“What if she flew outside?”
Allegra whispers.
Later, the voice of the PA says:
We have a missing bird
named Molly Cockatoo.
If you see it, please tell your teacher.
The bird belongs to Allegra Ruiz.
“I’m sorry, Allegra,” I say.
“I hope you get her back.”
Allegra nods.
She blinks, blinks,
blinks, as if something
is wrong with her eyes.
LIBRARY HELPER
I like to see the rainbow colors on the library shelves,
books that are red and blue and green.
I like to feed chunks of carrots and bits of lettuce
to the Library Gerbils, Pete and Repeat.
I like to feed the Book Guppies and the Library Goldfish
and watch them bubble-bubble plunk!
I like the library when it’s catfish-quiet and catfish-still,
and also when it swims with little kids.
I like the way the books smell inky and paper-dusty,
and the wing-swish, wing-flutter of their pages.
I like the way library books talk to me, and
tell me stories, and make me remember
I have stories too.
BOOK MAGIC
Sit criss-cross applesauce
under the roof of the Reading Tent.
Slip low and easy and saggy-soft
into the smoosh of a bean-bag chair.
Slowly bump-a-beat, bump-a-beat
in the Reading Rocker.
Perch like a frog
on a green library stool, or
find a secret spot—like I do—
in a corner, in a slant of sun,
in a quiet reading space
where you know you’ll always
belong, out of sight and secret, away
from eyes that pinch and poke.
Ms. Lindle won’t mind.
She says getting lost in a book
is a magic trick,
which means that I’m a wizard.
STORYTIME
“Today, our library helper is Katharen.
She has a magical book about a little boy
who puts on his wolf suit and raises a ruckus.”
“Where the Wild Things Are!”
Nose says, and claps his hands.
“Yay!” the little kids cheer.
Ms. Lindle looks at me and nods.
I open the book carefully. At least, I try,
but it slips through my fingers and falls.
“She dropped the book,” the little kids say.
“Li-berry-an! She dropped the book!”
“You’re not supposed to drop the book,”
Nose whispers.
I pick the book up and remember
what Ms. Lindle taught me: P.A.S.S.
Point to the pictures.
Ask questions.
Show everyone the book.
Speak up.
“Look, here’s Max in his wolf suit,” I say.
“Let’s say hello to Max.”
“Hello!” the little kids shout.
“Hullo!” someone answers.
“Hullo!”
Over our heads, we hear a fluttering.
I stare up into the rafters.
“A bird!” the little kids shout.
“Shhh,” Ms. Lindle hushes.
“Shhh, let’s not frighten it.
Use your library voices.”
But I don’t use my library voice.
I use my feet.
I run to find Allegra.
MOLLY!
The birdcage rattles against the table.
Allegra holds up a peanut and calls again.
“Molly!”
Molly Cockatoo cocks her head
and hops along the rafter.
“The bird’s not coming,” Nose says.
“Shh,” Ms. Lindle whispers.
“Everyone needs to keep quiet.”
Allegra calls again
and raises her hand.
“Molly!” she says.
“Squawk!”
Molly answers, beating her wings
and flying from the rafter.
She flies around and around the room.
The little kids jump,
making Molly swoop higher.
“Settle down, everyone. Settle down.”
Molly doesn’t settle.
She flies over the computers,
over the Library Gerbils,
over the aquarium, and finally,
straight to Allegra’s wrist.
“Pretty girl! Pretty girl!
Peanut! Peanut!”
Molly says.
Carefully, Allegra opens the cage door.
Carefully, she lowers Molly,
and Molly hops once, twice,
and right into the cage.
The little kids cheer.
“You put the bird in the cage!” Nose says.
Allegra looks at me.
Her face brightens
like a Fourth of July parade,
all sparkly, all shiny.
“Pretty girl! Pretty girl!
Squawkkkkkkk!”
AFTER-SCHOOL ALLEGRA
“Squawkkkk!” Nose says
and flaps his arms.
He runs to the back fence
to see Allegra.
“My name’s Noah.
I live right here.”
“She knows that, Nose.”
I say.
“What’s your name?”
Nose asks.
“Allegra.”
“She’s Keet-y,” Nose says, pointing to me.
“Keet-y Keet-y!
Keet-y Keet-y!” Nose chants,
marching in a circle.
Allegra watches him.
“Can I see your bird?” Nose says,
flapping his arms again.
“I call him Nose because he’s so nosy
,
and he asks fifty zillion, trillion questions.”
“Why does he call you Keet-y?”
“Because my friends say
I talk, talk, talk like a parakeet,
and I’m always telling stories.”
Allegra tips her head to one side.
She rubs one shoe against the other.
“My papi called me Allie-gator
because of my front tooth.”
She shows me her broken tooth.
She stares at me and waits.
But I don’t say anything.
“Because my tooth
is alligator-sharp,” Allegra says.
I look at her snaggly tooth.
It looks like a crooked puzzle piece.
It looks like a sharp and pointy triangle.
“My grandpa saw an alligator once,” I say.
“It snatched a bird right out of the water.
He said alligators are quick and strong.
We like alligators.”
Allie-gator smiles.
I smile back.
Nose squawks.
“I collect feathers,” Allie-gator says.
“I collect hats and cups,” I say.
Allie-gator smiles again.
I like her crooked smile.
“Can you cartwheel?”
Allegra asks.
I shake my head.
“I’ll teach you,” and she throws her hands
against the ground and pushes herself into a cartwheel.
“Teach me, too!” Nose says.
“Teach me to wheel, too!
Help me, Keet!
Help me, Allie-gator!”
LIBRARY FISH
Keet:
Grandpa, I signed up to be a library helper.
I get to go to the library during recess, and I get to take care of the library fish.
Grandpa:
Fishing in the library, Fish Bait?
Well, isn’t that something.
Keet:
No! No, Grandpa, we can’t fish in the library.
I didn’t say fishing. I said fish.
Grandpa:
What kind of fish can you catch in your library?
I’ll bring my fishing pole and we can try it out.
Keet:
Grandpa!
Catching a Storyfish Page 4