A New York Public Library Book for Reading and Sharing
A National Parenting Publication Gold Award Winner
“Sara Pennypacker has created that rare marvel—a book about a little girl…who is utterly charming and beguiling not just for parents BUT FOR KIDS THEMSELVES.… This is an amazing, engaging book and should be an instant classic. I wish I had written it.”
—Jacquelyn Mitchard, author of The Deep End of the Ocean and Cage of Stars
“Frazee’s engaging pen-and-ink drawings capture the energy and fresh-faced expressions of the irrepressible heroine.”
—School Library Journal, starred review
“Pennypacker’s genius knack for tantalizing comic timing and expressive turns of phrase is augmented in no small way by Frazee’s equally comic, expressive illustrations.”
—The Toronto Star
ABOUT THE AUTHOR AND ILLUSTRATOR
Sara Pennypacker is also the author of The Talented Clementine; Stuart’s Cape and Stuart Goes to School; Dumbstruck; and Pierre in Love. She was a painter before becoming a writer, and has two absolutely fabulous children who are now grown. Sara lives on Cape Cod in Massachusetts.
Marla Frazee illustrated the second book in this series, The Talented Clementine. She is the author and illustrator of many picture books as well, including Walk On!, Santa Claus the World’s Number One Toy Expert, and Roller Coaster, and illustrated The Seven Silly Eaters and Everywhere Babies. Marla works in a small back ard cabin under an avocado tree in Pasadena, California.
I have noticed that teachers get exciting confused with boring a lot. But when my teacher said, “Class, we have an exciting project to talk about,” I listened anyway.
“Our school is going to raise money for the big spring trip,” he said. “The first and second grades are going to hold a bake sale. The fifth and sixth grades are going to have a car wash. And the third and fourth grades are going to…put on a talent show!”
All the kids in the room made sounds as if they thought a talent show was exciting news. Except me, because it was N-O-T, not.
But okay, fine, it wasn’t boring, either.
Just then, Margaret’s teacher came to the door to talk to my teacher, which was good because it gave me an extra minute to think.
“Old people love to pat my little brother’s head,” I said when my teacher walked back into the room. “How about we set up a booth and charge them a quarter to do it, instead of having a talent show?”
But he ignored me, which is called Getting on with the Day when a teacher does it, and Being Inconsiderate when a kid does it.
“Class,” he said, “one of the fourth graders has come up with a name for our show! Talent-Palooza, Night of the Stars!”
It had to be that Margaret.
“First, we’ll need a cooperative group to make some posters…. ” my teacher said.
And that’s when the worried feeling—as if somebody were scribbling with a big black crayon—started up in my brains.
My teacher kept on going with the cooperative group list. The scribbling got harder and faster and spread down into my stomach. I knew what this meant.
I raised my hand.
“Yes, Clementine? Would you like to be in the cooperative group for refreshments?”
“No, thank you,” I said, extra politely. “What I’d like is to go to Mrs. Rice’s office.”
“Clementine, you don’t need to go see the principal,” my teacher said. “You’re not in any trouble.”
“Well, it’s just a matter of time,” I told him.
My teacher looked at me as if he suddenly had no idea how I’d gotten into his classroom. But then he gave a big sigh and said, “All right,” so I got up.
As I left, the O’Malley twins gave me the thumbs-up sign, which made me feel like I wasn’t alone. But they were wearing their “Thank goodness it’s not me” faces, which made me know that I was.
I walked down the hall on worried legs and knocked on the door with worried knuckles.
“Come in,” Principal Rice said. When she saw it was me, she held out her hand for the note from my teacher that would tell her what kind of a little chat we should have. We have done this a lot.
But today I just sat on the chair and started right in. “Which are smarter? Chimpanzees or orangutans?”
“That’s an interesting question, Clementine,” Mrs. Rice said. “Maybe you could ask the science teacher after you’ve told me what you’re doing here.”
“Also, I’ve been wondering what the difference is between smashed and crashed.”
Mrs. Rice handed me her dictionary.
And then suddenly I didn’t want to know anymore! That is the miracle about dictionaries!
“Well, how about you put it on the floor so you can rest your feet on it instead of kicking my desk?” Principal Rice suggested. “You seem to have very busy feet today.”
So I did, and it felt good. “Thank you,” I said. “I don’t have any talents.”
“Excuse me?” said Principal Rice.
“I don’t have any talents,” I said again.
Mrs. Rice looked at me for a long time and then she said, “Oh.”
Then I told her I was all done being there and I left.
When I got off the bus, Margaret’s brother, Mitchell, was sitting on the front steps of our apartment building.
“What’s the matter, Clementine?” he asked me right away—I guess my worried face was still on.
I handed him the stupid flyer my teacher had sent home with us.
“‘Talent-Palooza, Night of the Stars! Share your talents Saturday night!’” he read. Then he handed the stupid flyer back to me. “So, what’s the problem?”
I leaned over—but not too close in case he thought I was trying to be his girlfriend, which I am not—and whispered the problem to him.
“I can’t hear you,” he said.
So I whispered it again.
“I still can’t hear you,” he said.
So I yelled it.
“That’s impossible,” he said. “Everybody has a talent.”
“Not me.”
“No singing?”
“No singing.”
“No dancing?”
“No dancing.”
“No musical instruments?”
“No musical instruments.”
Mitchell was quiet for a minute.
“How about hopping?” he asked finally.
“No hopping,” I answered.
“Everyone can hop,” Mitchell said.
“Not me.” Then I proved it to him.
“Wow,” said Mitchell. Twice.
I sat down on the step beside him. Except I fell off, because my body was a little confused from trying to hop. “See?” I said. “I can’t even do sitting. It’s hopeless.”
“Maybe not. Cheer up. Maybe you have a really great talent you just haven’t figured out yet.”
I gave Mitchell a “See? I’m cheered up already!” smile. But it was just my mouth pretending.
Clementine Page 5