Cool Zone with the Pain and the Great One

by Judy Blume

  That’s when the door to our classroom opened and Lila came in with a dog. A real, live dog. A very big, real, live dog. “This is Baby,” she said.

  “Oh, my!” Tracy said. “A real, live dog! Mary said pretend pets. She didn’t say anything about real ones.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Lila said. “I guess I didn’t hear the part about pretend.”

  Baby looked at our class and barked. She pulled on her leash.

  Our class went wild. We shouted, “Baby . . . here, Baby!”

  “Stop!” Lila said. I don’t know if she was saying that to us or to her dog.

  We jumped up and down and kept calling to Baby.

  Baby jumped too, and this time she broke away from Lila.

  She raced around our classroom, dragging her leash. She knocked over everything in her path. Dylan’s dinosaur went flying. Marco jumped onto his table and started screaming. So did Maggie. “Help!” they yelled.

  Maybe Baby thought they were playing a game. She tried to get up on the tables too. That made Maggie and Marco scream louder.

  Then Baby headed for the creature table. “Stop her before she gets our guinea pig!” Justin cried.

  We all started chasing Baby. Baby barked. Baby ran. She knocked over the big trash can. She barreled into the basket of balls in the corner. She crashed into our block skyscraper and it came tumbling down.

  Justin shouted, “She thinks she’s King Kong!”

  “She’s a dog tornado!” Dylan called.

  “Baby!” Lila shouted. “Come!”

  But Baby didn’t listen.

  Tracy clapped her hands. But none of us paid attention.

  Everyone was racing around trying to capture Baby. But Baby was faster than all of us put together. She raced by my table, and before I could stop her, she snatched Bruno and carried him away in her mouth. “Help!” I cried. “Baby’s got my elephant!”

  That’s when the door to our classroom opened and the first-grade teacher from next door asked, “Is everything all right in here, Tracy?”

  “No!” Tracy answered as Baby tore out of our classroom with Bruno still in her mouth.

  “Stop!” I shouted. But Baby raced down the hall. I raced after her. The rest of the class raced after me. Except for Maggie and Marco, who were still on top of their tables, screaming.

  Baby ran in and out of every classroom with an open door. Books and pencils went flying. Kids screamed. Kids laughed. Teachers looked surprised. “Somebody stop her . . . please!” I cried. “She has my elephant!”

  Baby flew down the hall into the school office. She zipped behind the counter and into the principal’s office. Mrs. Foxworth jumped up. “What’s this?” she asked.

  “It’s Bring Your Pet to School Day!” Justin shouted.

  “Pretend pets,” Tracy tried to explain. “It’s supposed to be pretend pets only.”

  “I didn’t hear the pretend part,” Lila cried.

  “Baby’s got my elephant!” I shouted.

  Baby tore out of the office and out the door leading to the playground.

  The Great One’s class was having gym. “Somebody stop that dog!” I yelled.

  “Is that Bruno in the dog’s mouth?” the Great One called to me.

  “Yes, it’s Bruno!”

  The third graders started chasing Baby too.

  Tracy cried, “This is a disaster! I’m never going to get a teaching job now!”

  Suddenly, Baby turned toward the third graders and started shaking Bruno. She shook and shook and shook until Bruno’s insides started flying out. Soon Bruno’s fuzz blew around in the wind like snow.

  “No!” I cried. “No!”

  The third graders made a circle around Baby. They clapped their hands and chanted, “Baby . . . Baby . . . Baby . . .” But Baby still didn’t let go of Bruno.

  The Great One ran forward. She stepped on Baby’s leash. Baby looked at the Great One. The Great One looked at Baby. “Drop it!” she told the dog. “Drop that elephant right now!” And just like that, Baby dropped Bruno.

  It got very quiet as I walked over and looked down at Bruno. He was flat. And one of his ears was hanging by a thread. He looked dead. I picked up what was left of Bruno and held him close to me. This was the saddest day of my life.

  “Maybe it’s time to say goodbye to Bruno,” the Great One said very softly.

  “Say goodbye?” I could hardly talk. “What do you mean? Where would Bruno go?”

  “Into the closet with your other old toys,” the Great One said. She put an arm around me.

  “Bruno’s not a toy!” I told her. “I’ll never say goodbye to him.”

  “Mary’s class . . . over here, please.”

  We turned. It was Mary. Some of our class ran to her side and hugged her.

  Tracy was close to crying. “It just got so out of control,” she told Mary.

  “I can see that,” Mary said.

  Lila cried, “Baby’s a very good dog. Really. She just got excited.”

  Mary said, “Tracy, would you please take Lila to the office so she can call and ask her mom or dad to come get Baby?”

  “Is Baby’s day at school over?” Lila said.

  “Yes,” Mary said. “Baby’s day at school is over.”

  Baby lay down with her head on her paws and yawned.

  Mary led our class back to our room. She put on quiet-time music. We rested our heads on our tables. I rested mine on flat Bruno. Mary sat down next to me. “You must feel very sad,” she said.

  “Elephants have no natural predators,” I told her.

  “I know.”

  We were both quiet for a minute. Then Mary said, “I have an idea.”

  “What idea?” I asked.

  “The elephant hospital.”

  “What elephant hospital?”

  “I know of one,” Mary said. “Can you do without Bruno until the end of the school day?”

  “Yes. But I need him before I go to sleep tonight.”

  “I understand,” Mary said. “You’ll have him back in plenty of time.”

  I handed Bruno to Mary. “You’ll take good care of him?”

  “Very good care,” Mary said.

  That night Lila and her mother came to the house. They brought me a new stuffed elephant. “We’re so sorry,” Lila’s mother said. “Aren’t we sorry, Lila?”

  Lila hid behind her mother. She said, “And Baby is sorry too.”

  The new elephant was gray and stiff. Even though I didn’t want it, I said thank you.

  Later, the Great One said, “I’ll take that new elephant if you don’t want it.” So I gave it to her. Then I got into bed with Bruno. Bruno’s ear was stitched back on. You could see where his tummy had been sewn up. He was much fatter. But he still smelled the same. And his ear tasted just right.

  TWO FLOWERS

  I’ve been thinking about my name. I’m not sure Abigail is the right name for me. I don’t feel like an Abigail anymore. I don’t look like one either. At least I don’t think I do. I need a new name. Could I be Charlotte? I wondered. Or Tiffany? Or maybe Emma Rose? Yes! As soon as I said it I knew it was the name for me. Hello, Emma Rose, I said to myself in the mirror, just to see how it would feel. It felt good.

  I sat at my desk and tried writing my new name. I wrote it with a purple marker. Purple is my favorite color. Emma Rose Porter. I liked the way it looked. I drew a picture of a rose to go with my new name.

  All my friends will be so jealous, I thought. They have such ordinary names. But then I started thinking of all the girls at school already named Emma. Emma Lewis in fifth grade. Emma Greenspan, in fourth. Emma Rinaldi and Emma Wong, in third. Too many Emmas. So I crossed out Emma with my purple marker, which gave me a new idea. Instead of Emma, I’ll be Violet. Violet Rose. The girl with two flower names.

  I looked at myself in the mirror. “Hello, Violet Rose.”

  Perfect! I thought.

  At dinner I said, “Guess what?” Then I waited until Mom and Dad looked
at me. That’s how I know they’re listening.

  “What?” Mom said.

  “I’ve decided to change my name. From now on call me Violet Rose.”

  The Pain was drinking milk. He laughed when I said my new name—and when he did, milk sprayed out of his nose. “Ewww . . . that is so disgusting!” I made a face.

  Dad passed him a napkin. But the Pain kept laughing.

  “It’s not funny!” I told him.

  “Yes, it is!” he said.

  Mom put down her fork and gave me a serious look. “Abigail is a beautiful name.”

  Dad nodded.

  “We chose it just for you,” Mom said.

  Dad nodded again. Then he said, “We knew as soon as we held you, you were our little Abigail.” He reached for Mom’s hand.

  “Kids should get to choose their own names,” I told them. But they weren’t looking at me anymore.

  I went to sleep dreaming of my new name and all the good things that will happen now that I’m Violet Rose.

  The next morning I wrote my new name on my lunch bag. Violet Rose.

  I decorated the bag with tiny rosebuds and a chain of violets.

  At the bus stop I reminded the Pain to call me Violet Rose.

  On the school bus I sat with Emily. Kaylee and Sasha sat across from us.

  They were talking about Lucas. I waited for them to finish so I could tell them about my new name. For now, it was still my secret.

  Suddenly, a voice from the front of the bus called out, “Hey, Violet Rose . . .”

  Everyone on the bus turned around. Who is Violet Rose? they wondered. Is she a new girl? What grade is she in? No one knew the answer except my blabbermouth brother and me. I wanted to tell my friends when I was ready. But, as usual, the Pain ruined my plan. Just like he ruins everything! I wanted to tell him to shut up, but now it was too late.

  When we got to school, the Pain said, “Hey, Violet Rose. You took my lunch bag.”

  “Did not,” I said.

  “Then what does this say?” He shoved his lunch bag in my face.

  Uh-oh. I grabbed the bag that said Violet Rose, the bag I’d personally decorated.

  I handed him the one that said Jake. “Why did you take my bag?” I asked.

  “I didn’t,” he said. “You took mine.”

  Sasha looked at me. “Why is he calling you Violet Rose?” she asked.

  The Pain was listening. So I whispered, “I’ll tell you later.”

  The Pain followed me to my classroom. Before I could shoo him away he yelled as loud as he could, “Bye, Violet Rose. See you later.”

  “Shut up!” I hissed.

  At recess the boys made a circle around me. They sang,

  “Violet Rose, Violet Rose,

  A stupid name

  That grows and grows

  From her nose

  To her toes.

  She’s Violet Rose

  Wherever she goes!”

  Then they laughed.

  Emily pushed her way through the circle. She put her hands on her hips and glared at the boys. Nobody can glare better than Emily. The boys took off to kick around a soccer ball. Then Emily said, “Is Violet Rose your real name?”

  “No,” I told her. “I made it up.”

  “Well, it’s a beautiful name.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I wish my name could be Sierra.”

  “It can be,” I told her.

  By the time school was over, Sasha, Kaylee, and Emily all had new names, just like me.

  Emily was Sierra.

  Sasha was Jamison.

  Kaylee was Amber.

  We told our teacher, Mr. Gee, about our new names. He said he’d try to remember but he couldn’t promise.

  When I saw Ms. Valdez, our science teacher, I said, “Have you heard? I’ve changed my name to Violet Rose.”

  Ms. Valdez said, “Two flowers.”

  “Yes,” I said, pleased that she’d noticed. “Two flowers.”

  That afternoon I had ballet class. Kaylee had tap. Her mom dropped us at Miss Graceful’s dance studio. Her real name is Miss Grace, but we call her Miss Graceful when she’s not listening.

  I told Miss Graceful to call me Violet Rose.

  “How am I supposed to remember that?” she asked.

  “Think of two flowers,” I said.

  When we were at the barre, Miss Graceful said, “Very nice, Rosebud.”

  I didn’t even try to correct her.

  Madison Purdy was behind me. She laughed. I don’t like Madison Purdy.

  In the ballet changing room after class, Madison Purdy said, “So, Rosebud . . .”

  “It’s Violet!” I told her. “Not Rosebud.”

  “Anything is better than Abigail,” she said. “Abigail is the most boring name ever.”

  “It is not!”

  “Then why did you change it?” she asked.

  “Who says I changed it?”

  “I heard you tell Miss Graceful.”

  “That was just for today,” I said, thinking fast. “It has to do with a play I’m in at . . . at . . . after school.”

  “Are you playing a flower?” Madison asked.

  “Yes, a flower,” I said.

  “Are you sure you’re not playing a weed?” Madison Purdy asked.

  Everyone in the changing room laughed.

  * * *

  The next day after school we went to Emily’s house. Her mom said, “Hello, Vicky.”

  Who is Vicky? I wondered.

  Emily said, “Not Vicky, Mom. She’s Violet.”

  “Violet Rose,” I added. “The girl with two flower names.”

  Emily’s mom smiled at me. There are four kids in Emily’s family and her mom is always mixing up their names. Then Emily told her mom that from now on Sasha is Jamison, Kaylee is Amber, and she’s Sierra.

  “This is very hard,” Emily’s mom said. “It’s making me tired.”

  It was making me tired too.

  Later, when I got home, the Pain said, “What’s wrong, Violet Rose?”

  “Stop calling me that!” I told him.

  “Calling you what?” he asked.

  “You know what!”

  “You mean Violet Rose?” he said.

  “You know what I mean.”

  He started dancing around me, singing, “Violet Rose, Violet Rose . . . grows . . . toes . . . nose . . . rows . . .”

  I shouted, “Stop!”

  Charlie, our babysitter, ran in from the kitchen. She was getting dinner ready because Mom and Dad were both working late. Charlie is hopeless at cooking, so Mom leaves leftovers for her to heat up. “What’s all that noise?” Charlie asked.

  “It’s Violet Rose,” the Pain told her. “She’s having a hissy fit.”

  “I’m very tired,” I said. “I think I need a nap.”

  “A nap?” Charlie asked.

  “Yes, a nap!”

  I went up to my room, shut my door, and flopped on my bed.

  Later, the phone rang. It was Sasha. “I’ve decided I don’t want to be Jamison anymore.”

  I was so glad to hear that. But before I could tell her how glad, she said, “From now on call me Lexi. And Kaylee says she wants to be Keesha. And Emily wants to be Rebecca. Isn’t that cool?”

  Now I had a headache.

  “This is such a good idea!” Sasha said. “We’re all so happy you thought of it.”

  But I wasn’t so happy. I didn’t think it was such a good idea at all.

  The next morning, the Pain said, “How do you spell Spidey?”

  “Spidey?”

  “Yeah. It’s short for Spider-Man. I’m changing my name too.”

  “Spider-Man is the name of an action hero,” I said. “It’s not a real name.”

  “So? I can be Spidey if I want. Just like you can be Violet Rose.”

  “Forget Violet Rose,” I told him. “From now on call me Abigail.”

  “But I was just getting used to Violet Rose,” he said. “I
like the way you can rhyme Rose with nose and toes and goes and—”

  “Stop!” I shouted.

  “Okay . . .”

  “Okay who?”

  “Okay . . . Abigail?”

  “Right. And don’t forget it.”

  He started singing, “Abigail . . . Abigail . . . snail, fail, jail . . .”

  “No more rhymes!” I told him.

  “But rhymes are fun,” he said.

  “Make rhymes with your own name.”

  “Okay.” He skipped out of the kitchen. I heard him singing, “Spidey, didey, lydie, bydie . . .”

  I ran up to my room. I took one last look in my mirror. Abigail, I said to myself. Then I sat at my desk and wrote it in big letters with my purple marker. Perfect, I thought.

  Totally, one hundred percent perfect!

  THE BREAF-KAST CAFÉ

  My class is starting a restaurant. It will be open for one day. Everyone has a job. I’m going to be a waiter! “Guess what our restaurant is called?” I asked the Great One. But I didn’t wait for her to guess. “It’s called the Breaf-kast Café,” I told her. “Isn’t that a good name?”

  “You mean breakfast?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “No, you put the f sound before the k sound.”

  I didn’t answer. Who cares if I say it my own way? “Don’t forget to call to make a reservation,” I reminded Mom and Dad. “It’s a family restaurant, and if you’re lucky, you’ll get my table.”

  “Lucky?” the Great One mumbled.

  “Abigail . . .” Mom said, in her voice that means That’s enough.

  Then Mom looked at me and smiled. “I’ve already called. I made a reservation for three people at eight-thirty.”

  “What three people?” I asked.

  Mom said, “Dad, Abigail, and me.”

  “The Great One is coming to the Breaf-kast Café?”

  “You just said it’s a family restaurant,” the Great One said. “And in case you forgot, I’m part of your family. I only hope there’ll be something good to eat.”

  I didn’t tell her all the good things there will be to eat. Let her be surprised.

  She won’t believe how much my class knows about restaurants. We even visited a restaurant. It was called Baci. Marco’s dad is the chef. He wore a tall white hat. We watched him make pasta in the kitchen. He made it himself from flour and water. Not from a box. I thought he was making the world’s longest noodle.