Cool Zone with the Pain and the Great One

by Judy Blume

  “I had to give Jake a message,” Roger said. “See you later, Jakey!” he called, as if we were friends.

  Mrs. Fisher shook her head. “That boy . . .” she mumbled. But she didn’t say anything else.

  “Are you going to give him your magnifying glass?” Justin asked.

  “No! My magnifying glass belongs to me.”

  On the bus going home from school I sat up front with Dylan, close to the bus driver. “My magnifying glass is safe at home,” I said. “So what can Roger Culley do?”

  “I don’t know,” Dylan said.

  That was the problem. I didn’t know either. And thinking about it made my stomach hurt.

  But when Roger Culley got on the bus, he passed right by without even looking at me.

  “Phew . . .” Dylan said. “That was a close one.”

  I was glad it was the weekend. I didn’t want to talk about Roger Culley. I didn’t want to think about him either.

  On Monday morning I sat with the Great One on the bus. She didn’t tell me to go sit with my own friends, like always. Instead, she said, “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Come on,” she said. “Let’s have it. . . .”

  “Okay,” I said. “What exactly does it mean when somebody says you’re burnt toast?”

  “You’re still worrying about that bully?” she asked.

  “Maybe.”

  “Don’t listen to anything he says,” she told me. “Because he’s worse than burnt toast.”

  “What’s worse than burnt toast?”

  She was quiet for a minute. I could tell she was thinking. Then she smiled. “A soggy egg roll,” she said. “He’s a soggy egg roll with chopped-up insides!”

  I started to laugh. I laughed until Roger Culley got on the bus and sat in the seat right behind us. When he did, I moved closer to the Great One.

  Roger leaned forward. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. “Do you have anything for me, Jakey?” he asked.

  “Get away from my brother,” the Great One said.

  I looked out the window and saw the sign that says SCHOOL ZONE. Someone had painted over the s and the h, so now it said COOL ZONE. That sign meant we were almost there. And this time I was going to tell. I was going to tell about Roger. First, I was going to tell my teacher. And later, after school, I was going to tell Mom and Dad. It made me feel better to think about what I was going to say.

  But when the bus pulled into the school lot, Roger leaned forward again. “I have a present for your sister,” he said to me. “Something really special.”

  The Great One whipped around. “I don’t want anything from you,” she told Roger. “So you can keep your special present for yourself.”

  “But that would be a waste,” Roger said.

  When the door to the bus opened, Roger shook a jar over the Great One’s head. Then he ran off the bus.

  We got off too. Three seconds later, the Great One started screaming. She screamed and jumped up and down and slapped her head with her hand. “Help!” she cried. Her friends tried to help but they didn’t know what was wrong until the Great One picked something out of her hair. She held it up for them to see. “Worms!” she cried. “He dumped worms on my head!”

  Roger Culley laughed his head off while the Great One’s friends helped pick the worms out of her hair. He was doubled over from laughing so hard.

  Suddenly, I felt more mad than scared, and I ran right at Roger. I wanted to jump on that soggy egg roll and smash him.

  I wanted to scoop out his chopped-up insides and feed them to Horace, our class guinea pig. But when I got up close to the big bully, I froze. I heard Mom’s voice inside my head. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help if you need it. And then I could hear Dad saying, You can’t always handle everything on your own.

  So I ran into school without looking back. I raced down the hallway. I didn’t stop—not even when a teacher called, “No running in the halls!”

  I ran until I got to the Great One’s third-grade classroom. Her teacher, Mr. Gee, was sitting at his desk. “The bully dumped worms on my sister’s head!” I shouted. “My sister needs help!”

  “What!” Mr. Gee jumped up and headed for the outside door.

  But I kept running until I came to my classroom. I almost ran right into Mary. She caught me and said, “Jake, what’s going on?”

  At first I couldn’t answer. I just kept gulping. When I could finally get the words out, I told Mary everything. I told her how the bully scared me. I told her I was afraid to ride the school bus. I told her I was afraid on the playground. Mary said, “No one should have to be afraid at school. I’m glad you told me.”

  Before recess, Mary read our class a story about a bully. Everyone got really quiet at first. We talked about why some kids are bullies. And what to do if a bully tries to scare you. Then we all asked questions at once.

  That afternoon, Mary walked me to the school bus. I got on and sat across from the Great One. When I looked out the window, Mary waved to me. I waved back. That’s when I saw Roger Culley. He was leaving school with a grown-up. The grown-up didn’t look happy. And neither did Roger Culley. He was crying. I pulled on the Great One’s sleeve and pointed out my window. She stood up for a better view. “Ha!” she said. “Now he even looks like a soggy egg roll.”

  That night, before I went to bed, I wrapped my magnifying glass in an old T-shirt. I put two rubber bands around it. Then I took it to the Great One’s room.

  “What’s this?” she asked when I gave it to her.

  “It’s a surprise,” I said.

  “A surprise for me?”

  “Yes. Open it.”

  She opened the package. “A magnifying glass! How did you know I’ve always wanted one?”

  “I can read your mind,” I told her.

  “No, you can’t!” she said.

  “Can too!”

  “Okay, prove it,” she said. “What am I thinking right this second?”

  I didn’t know what she was thinking. But I knew what I was thinking. Why did I give her my magnifying glass? How can I get it back? And if I can’t get it back, will Grandma give me another one?

  The Great One just stood there looking at me. I could tell she was waiting for me to say something, something to prove I could read her mind. So I said, “Wait. I have it now! You’re thinking that I can use the magnifying glass whenever I want to.”

  “I am not!”

  “Yes you are . . . yes you are . . . yes you are!” I said, dancing around her.

  “I am not!” she said again. “And only a terrible, disgusting, awful person tries to take back a gift!”

  “Did I say I’m trying to take it back?”

  “You don’t have to say it. I know that’s what you’re thinking.” Then she put the magnifying glass into her desk drawer and covered it with a lot of stuff.

  I just smiled because now I knew where it was.

  CHASING LUCAS

  All the girls in my class like Lucas. On the playground we chase him. We don’t stop until we catch him. Then we knock him down and sit on him. One time Sasha kissed him. Lucas wiped his face and said, “Yuck!” Sasha laughed so hard she had to use her inhaler.

  Our teacher, Mr. Gee, is always telling us to leave Lucas alone. “He doesn’t want to be chased. He doesn’t want to be kissed. Find another game to play.”

  But chasing Lucas is the best game. Too bad Lucas doesn’t know it. He should be glad we chase him. Doesn’t he know that means we like him?

  At dinner, the Pain said, “Why do you chase Lucas on the playground?”

  “How do you know about that?” I asked.

  The Pain didn’t answer. He just shoved another forkful of plain pasta into his mouth. He only eats white food these days. I gave him my best look and asked my question again. “How do you know about Lucas?”

  “Everybody knows,” he said.

  “Does Lucas like to be chased?” Mom asked.

  “He
pretends he doesn’t,” I said.

  “Are you sure he’s pretending?” Mom said.

  “Of course he’s pretending,” I told her.

  “She’s not the only one who chases him,” the Pain said.

  “Why don’t you mind your own business,” I said.

  But did he listen? No. “All her friends chase him too,” he said.

  Then he laughed with his mouth full of pasta, as if he was telling the biggest joke. As if he was giving away top-secret information. “I know more,” he said to Mom and Dad. “Want to hear?”

  “Stop!” I shouted. “You’re ruining everything. Just like always. You are such a pain!”

  I looked at Mom and tried to explain. “It’s a game. If the Pain was in third grade he’d get it. But he’s just a first-grade baby.”

  “I’m not a baby!” the Pain shouted.

  “Then why are you acting like one?” I asked.

  “Children,” Mom said. “No fighting at the dinner table.”

  “No biting, either,” Dad said. “Unless it’s your food.”

  “Is that supposed to be a joke?” I asked.

  “Yes, Abigail,” Dad said. “That’s supposed to be a joke.”

  The next morning, on the school bus, I told Emily, Sasha, and Kaylee what the Pain said at the dinner table.

  “Does he know we like Lucas?” Emily asked.

  “No,” I said. “At least, I don’t think he does.”

  “Good,” Sasha said.

  As we got off the school bus, we saw Lucas. Emily is way bigger than Lucas. So she came up from behind, and before Lucas knew what was happening, Emily lifted him into the air.

  “Put me down!” Lucas yelled.

  “Not until you let Abigail kiss you,” Emily said.

  “No!” Lucas cried.

  Wait! I thought. Who says I want to kiss him? Did I say I wanted to kiss him? No! Thanks a lot, Emily.

  But Emily wouldn’t let him go until he said, “Okay, okay . . . Abigail can kiss me.”

  Emily put him down and held him still. “Now, Abigail!” she said. “Hurry.” Lucas was squirming.

  “No, thank you,” I told Emily. “You can kiss him instead.” I started to walk away.

  “Wait!” Lucas called. “I’d rather have Abigail do it.”

  I stopped and turned. A group of third graders gathered around us. Emily was still holding Lucas tight. She wasn’t giving up until someone kissed him. Poor Lucas! I thought.

  The other kids started singing—

  “Lucas and Abigail sitting in a tree

  K-i-s-s-i-n-g.

  First comes love,

  Then comes marriage,

  Then comes Abigail with the baby carriage.”

  I hate, hate, hate that stupid song! I started to walk away again. Then I turned back for one second, just in time to see Madison Purdy kiss Lucas. Lucas wiped the kiss off his face and ran to catch up with me. “How come you didn’t want to kiss me?” he asked.

  I shrugged.

  “I thought you liked me,” he said.

  “I like chasing you,” I told him.

  “Same thing.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  That afternoon we had science with Ms. Valdez. She told us to choose partners. Lucas chose me. All the girls looked at me and smiled. But I didn’t want to be partners with Lucas. I wanted to be partners with one of the girls. I wasn’t even nice to him. I blamed him for getting the wrong answer to our problem. I called him a toad.

  “And you’re a frog,” Lucas said.

  “I am not a frog!” I told him. “And I read those Frog and Toad books in first grade.”

  At recess the girls chased Max instead of Lucas. I watched but I didn’t run. Max screamed when the girls caught him. When they knocked him down and sat on him, Max cried until snot came out of his nose.

  Mr. Gee was on playground duty. “What’s going on here?” he asked.

  “It’s a game!” Emily sang.

  “It doesn’t look like a game Max wants to play,” Mr. Gee said.

  “I’ll play,” Lucas said.

  “We don’t want to chase you anymore,” Emily told him.

  “Why not?” Lucas asked.

  “Because it’s no fun now,” Emily said.

  Mr. Gee shook his head and said, “This game is over.”

  “Why?” Kaylee asked.

  “Because it’s not a good game. Find a game that everyone wants to play.”

  As soon as Mr. Gee moved away from us, Lucas called, “Boys chase girls!” And suddenly all the boys were chasing us. We ran and screamed and tried to keep them away. Sasha tripped and skinned her knee. The boys sat on her until she yelled, “I can’t breathe! Help! I can’t breathe!”

  “Her inhaler,” I shouted. “Sasha needs her inhaler!”

  “No, I don’t,” Sasha said, sitting up. “I’m fine, except for my knee.”

  Mr. Gee blew his whistle. “Mr. Gee’s third graders, over here—right now! No more recess until you can behave on the playground.”

  At dinner Mom looked at me and said, “I’ve been thinking about that game.”

  “What game?” I asked.

  “The one where you chase Lucas.”

  “That game is so over,” I told her. “We’re never playing that game again.”

  Mom nodded. “I’m glad.”

  But the Pain couldn’t leave it alone. “Abigail is marrying Lucas!” he announced. Then he laughed with a mouthful of mashed potato. Some of it flew out of his mouth and landed next to my plate.

  “Ewww . . .” I said. “Disgusting!”

  “Not as disgusting as marrying Lucas,” the Pain sang.

  “I am not marrying Lucas! Lucas is a toad.”

  He started humming Abigail and Lucas sitting in a tree . . .

  “Stop!” I told him.

  “Children,” Dad said. “This discussion is over.”

  But the Pain kept laughing.

  The next day when I saw Lucas, I decided to tell him I don’t like him anymore. So I went right up to him and said, “Hey, Lucas. Guess what?”

  “What?” Lucas asked.

  And then I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t say anything. I just stood there.

  That’s when Lucas said, “Guess what, Abigail?”

  “What?”

  “I don’t like you anymore.”

  So I said, “Same.”

  Then Lucas said, “Good. So, you want to be my partner in science?”

  And I said, “Okay.”

  Then we both laughed.

  Just then the Pain and his class walked by. He saw me laughing with Lucas. “Look,” he called. “Frog and Toad Are Friends!”

  BRUNO’S EAR

  Tomorrow is Bring Your Pet to School Day in first grade. But Fluzzy can’t go. He can’t go because he’s a real, live pet. “Sorry, Fluzz,” I told him. “No real pets allowed.”

  We can bring pictures of real pets, or we can bring pretend pets. I’m going to bring Bruno. He’s my stuffed elephant. Grandma gave him to me when I was born.

  “Are you going to tell your class about Bruno’s ear?” the Great One asked.

  “There’s nothing to tell,” I said.

  “Ha!” the Great One said.

  “I rub Fluzzy’s ears too,” I told her.

  “But you don’t chew on Fluzzy’s ears, do you? You don’t put Fluzzy’s ears in your mouth and slobber all over them. At least, I hope you don’t. That would be so gross!”

  The Great One dangled a fake bug over Fluzzy’s head. Fluzzy batted his paws at it.

  “Why don’t you ask Fluzzy,” I said. “Fluzzy always tells the truth.” I looked at him. “Right, Fluzz? You always tell the truth, don’t you?”

  Fluzzy meowed.

  “Suppose the other kids laugh at you?” the Great One said.

  “Why would they laugh?”

  “Because Bruno is a stuffed animal. Because he’s light blue.”

  “He’s not blue.”

  “Ok
ay, so he’s gray now,” the Great One said. “But that’s just because he’s old.”

  “He’s not old. He’s the same age as me,” I told her.

  “That’s old for a stuffed animal.”

  “Bruno’s not old!”

  “Okay . . . Bruno’s not old,” the Great One said. “He’s just worn out.”

  “He’s not worn out. He’s perfect!” I hate when she says bad things about Bruno.

  The next morning I dried Bruno’s ear with Mom’s hair dryer so no one could say it was wet and slobbery. Then I put him in my backpack. Bruno didn’t mind. He was excited to be going to school with me.

  At school, everyone in my class was excited too.

  Maggie brought a toy zebra. “This is my pet,” she said. “His name is Ziggy.”

  Justin brought a huge poster of a gorilla.

  Dylan brought a stuffed dinosaur. The dinosaur was as tall as he was.

  Everyone was ready for Bring Your Pet to School Day. Everyone but our teacher, Mary. Where is Mary? I wondered. She’s never been absent. She’s never even been late.

  Then the student teacher from the other first grade came into our class. “I’m Tracy,” she said. “And I’m going to be your teacher this morning.”

  “Where’s Mary?” we all asked at once.

  “Mary had a toothache,” Tracy told us. “She went to the dentist.”

  “But today is Bring Your Pet to School Day,” Maggie cried. “Mary has to be here.”

  “And she will be,” Tracy said. “As soon as the dentist fixes her up.”

  “Are you a substitute teacher?” Justin asked.

  “Yes, I guess I am,” Tracy said.

  “We’ve never had a substitute,” Dylan said.

  “Don’t worry,” Tracy said. “Mary spoke to me on the phone and told me all about Bring Your Pet to School Day. So, let’s get started. Who wants to go first?”

  We forgot about raising our hands. We jumped up and down and called out, “Me, me, me!”

  “First graders . . .” Tracy said in her teacher voice. “One at a time, please.”