A Case of the Meanies Page 4

  “I’m working on some new fudge flavors,” Stuart told me. “I thought you’d want to taste.”

  The recipes might be a secret, but I can tell you the new flavors—s’mores, red velvet, white chocolate, cookies and cream, and banana split. Stuart gave me eensy weensy slivers of each—except for the banana-split one, because I don’t really like fruit to be in my dessert.

  “So?” he asked.

  “Good,” I said. “Really, really good.”

  “The Stella Batts stamp of approval for Stella’s Fudge,” Stuart said. “Now I’m ready to go.”

  “Are you going to turn these into your new brainchild?” I asked.

  “You mean fudge pops? I don’t see why not,” he said.

  I helped him cut the pans of fudge up into smaller squares. Then we stuck sticks in them. Stuart heated up the chocolate sauce for dipping. “I think they need a little something more, don’t you?” Stuart asked. “They taste delicious, but I don’t know if they look special enough.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I said.

  We kept on dipping the pops. I didn’t even notice that Dad had come in until he started speaking. “How’s it going in here?”

  “Good,” Stuart and I both said. Stuart’s practically a grownup, so I didn’t say jinx—even though that’s what you’re supposed to say if someone says the exact same thing at the exact same time.

  “How’s Elaine feeling?” Stuart asked Dad. Elaine is my mom.

  “She’s happy this baby is coming soon,” Dad said. “If all goes according to schedule, Stella and Penny will have a little brother next week.”

  “If you need anything, just let me know,” Stuart said.

  “Thanks,” Dad said. “My mother-in-law is coming this weekend, so we’ll have a lot of help at home. But could you take care of the order forms Stella just alphabetized? They’re on my desk.”

  “On the file cabinet,” I corrected.

  We said goodbye to Stuart and headed home.

  CHAPTER 7

  Don’t Scratch

  Your Nose

  For the next two days, Mom and Dad were super busy getting ready for the baby. I was busy too, finishing up my story.

  Thursday night, it was all finished. I read it over again, and again one more time, just to make sure all the story ingredients were really in there. They were:

  Characters, check!

  Setting, check!

  Plot, check!

  I copied the whole thing down on another piece of paper, in my absolute best handwriting.

  I put the story into a folder (so it wouldn’t get crinkled) and into my backpack. Then I clicked my heels together and whispered a little wish that Mrs. Finkel really would love it.

  “What was that?” Mom asked, walking into my room.

  “Just my story,” I told her.

  “What story?”

  “The homework Mrs. Finkel gave us for the week,” I said.

  “That’s perfect homework for you!”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Except Mrs. Finkel also said she didn’t think I knew how to write a story.”

  “She really said that?”

  “Sort of. We handed in descriptions of our characters, setting, and plot, and she didn’t like mine.”

  “Can I read the story now?” Mom asked.

  “You’re not too busy?”

  “Oh, Stel,” Mom said. “I know I’ve been distracted with all things baby these days. But I’m still your mom and I’ll always have time to read your stories.”

  I pulled the folder out of my backpack and handed it over.

  “It’s about platypuses?” Mom asked.

  “Just one,” I said. “A platypus named Penelope, but she’s in school with all different kinds of animals. You should go into the other room to read it because real writers don’t get to watch when other people read their books.”

  “You got it,” Mom said. She walked out and came back in a few minutes later.

  “What did you think?”

  “It was very poignant,” she said. “Do you know what that means?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Not really.”

  “It means moving, heartfelt,” she said. “You know the part where the goose came in and told Penelope the platypus she wasn’t allowed to go into the water anymore?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I really felt her frustration. And the part where the poison came out of her foot—”

  “That’s a real thing!” I said. “Platypuses shoot poison from their feet when creatures are mean to them. I read it in one of Penny’s platypus books. That’s why Penelope the platypus didn’t get in trouble—she couldn’t help herself!”

  “I think the real Penny will like that part of the story.”

  “I wrote it for her,” I said.

  “I figured,” Mom said. “You know what might make this story feel complete? If the goose and the platypus can come to some sort of truce at the end?”

  “So you don’t think it’s good, either?”

  “Of course I think it’s good. I think it’s great, actually. It’s just that there’s always room for improvement. Maybe that’s what Mrs. Finkel was trying to tell you.”

  “Do you think she’ll like my story if I improve it?”

  “I hope so,” Mom said. “But that’s the thing about stories. Readers have different tastes and they don’t always agree on what’s great. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  I nodded. Sometimes people wouldn’t like my stories. It made me feel like crying, just a little bit, like when you eat jalapeño jelly beans and your eyes get watery. “I don’t like this week,” I said.

  “I’m sorry,” Mom told me. “The good thing is that it’s almost over. Just one more day to get through.”

  “Except tomorrow is Friday—Joshua’s birthday party day, and that’ll be the worst day of all.”

  “Try not to think about it too much,” she said.

  “I am trying not to think about it,” I told her. “I just can’t help myself.”

  “You’re right,” Mom said. “That was a silly thing to tell you. When you’re trying not to think about something, that’s when you think about it the most. Like what would happen if I told you not to scratch your nose? Whatever you do, don’t scratch it. It doesn’t itch.”

  “Wait, it does itch right now! But it didn’t until you just said that. Now my nose is itchy and I’m still thinking about Joshua,” I told her.

  “I’m thinking about your story,” Mom said. “I happen to think it’s one of your best. Are you going to tell Penny about it?”

  I shook my head. “Not until I know for sure that Mrs. Finkel likes it. Then I’ll tell Penny.”

  “I heard my name,” Penny said, bounding into the room. “That means you were talking about me.”

  “I was just saying how much I love my girls,” Mom said. She winked at me. “And how that won’t change when the baby comes.”

  Penny cuddled up to Mom on the bed. “You know what I was thinking about the baby?” Penny asked. “We don’t know what it looks like yet. Isn’t that funny?”

  “That’s the thing about having a baby,” Mom said. “You never know what you’re going to get. But I think Dad and I did all right the first couple of times around, so I’m not particularly worried.”

  Penny yawned, which made me yawn. “I think that’s the signal that it’s time to get ready for bed,” Mom said.

  “I still have time before bed, right?” I asked. I’m three years older, so I always get to stay up later than Penny.

  “A little bit of time,” Mom said.

  After she and Penny headed out, I reread my story again. Mom was right. There was something missing from the end. But I fixed it. Then I went to sleep.

  CHAPTER 8

  All My Fault

  And then I woke up. It was Friday. The day of Joshua’s birthday party.

  Mrs. Benson was driving to school. She pulled up outside our house. Mom walked us to the front door. “H
ave a good day, girls,” she said.

  But I knew having a good day would be impossible.

  “I’ll be here when you get home,” she said.

  “Can Evie come over?” I asked.

  “Evie’s going to Joshua’s party,” she reminded me.

  “Actually I don’t think she’ll want to go without me,” I said. “She’s new, after all.”

  “I’m sorry, Stel,” Mom said. “Mrs. King called me last night. She said Daddy doesn’t have to pick Evie up from school today, because Evie is going home with Lucy. They’re going to head over to Joshua’s party together.”

  “Does that mean you’ll play with me after school?” Penny asked hopefully. “Zoey has to go to the dentist, so it’ll just be you and me. Hooray!”

  “You see,” Mom said, bending to kiss the top of my head. “Someone thinks you’re very special.”

  It was just Penny who thought so, but I didn’t point that out.

  “Go on now,” Mom told us. “The Bensons are waiting.”

  When we got to school, Mrs. Finkel collected our stories first thing. “I’m very excited to read all these,” she said. “It will be like reading an anthology. Does anyone know what ‘anthology’ means?”

  Anthology is the kind of big word that I like, and I did know what it meant. There’s a section at the new bookstore, Scheherazade, labeled “ANTHOLOGIES” and I asked Dad about it. He told me an anthology is a group of stories that are connected in some way, like they could be all about the same thing.

  But I didn’t raise my hand. I just let Mrs. Finkel explain. She said our stories were connected because we’re all in the same class, even though the subjects were all different.

  Then Joshua waved his hand around. Mrs. Finkel called on him. “But there are two dragon stories, so not everything is different. Maybe Asher should’ve written about something else.”

  “Now, Joshua,” Mrs. Finkel said. “I’ve had enough of that. The stories will be different because they have different authors—or you could have picked another subject to write about. You don’t want to go to Mr. O’Neil today, on your actual birthday, do you?”

  “That would be against the rules,” Joshua told her.

  Mrs. Finkel MAKES the Ground Rules—I think she knows what’s for or against them. “We can certainly have two stories about dragons,” is all she said.

  See how mean Joshua is to Asher! But he still invited Asher to his party, and Asher was probably going.

  I wish I would stop thinking about Joshua’s stupid party, I thought to myself. I clicked my heels three times under my desk.

  It didn’t work.

  Kids were talking about the party at snack time and again at lunch. Everyone was going, except for Clark and Maddie, and not because they didn’t want to. Clark had to go visit his great-aunt, and Maddie has jazz dance on Fridays.

  “It’s too bad that you have to miss a party at Batts Confections,” Lucy told her.

  All the other kids nodded in agreement.

  That’s the problem with having the coolest store in all of Somers, California—everyone wants to go to parties there.

  Actually, it’s never been a problem before. It was just a problem TODAY.

  Finally school was over. Even if I didn’t get to go to the party, at least I got to go home.

  I headed out to the flagpole, but Dad wasn’t the one standing with Penny. It was Stuart! What was Stuart doing at Somers Elementary School? He’s in college!

  “Hiya Stella, I have some exciting news,” he started.

  But he didn’t get to finish what he was saying, because Penny jumped in. “Mom’s having the baby!” she yelled. “Right now!”

  “That’s right,” Stuart said.

  “But the baby isn’t supposed to be here until next week,” I said. “Grandma doesn’t get here until this weekend.”

  “I guess the baby wasn’t aware of the schedule,” Stuart said. “So you girls are stuck with me.”

  I didn’t mind being stuck with Stuart. He’s got a cool car. It’s blue, which is my new favorite color, and there are only two doors instead of four. To get into the back seat, Stuart had to pull a lever to make the front seat fold over. Then we climbed in and he pushed the front seat back up.

  “I’ll tell you the way to get home,” Penny said. I bet Stuart already knew, but he pretended like he needed Penny’s help with the directions. When we got to the house, she told him the rules, like how we have to take our shoes off when we get inside, and how we get a snack.

  “What kind of snack?” Stuart asked.

  “Sometimes apples or grapes or cheese and crackers,” I said.

  “Or candy,” Penny said. “As much as we want!”

  That part wasn’t really true, but I didn’t correct her.

  We went to the kitchen. Stuart gave us each a Batts chocolate bar and a glass of milk. He washed off some strawberries, put them in a bowl, and placed them in the middle of the table. We all sat down. “There,” he said. “If you take a bite of strawberry and a bite of the bar, it’ll be like eating chocolate-covered strawberries.”

  “Oh yum!” Penny said. She turned to Stuart. “Stella and I are having a sisters’ play date today, but you can play too. I made a list of things we should do.”

  “I always make lists,” I said.

  “I know,” Penny said. “That’s how I got the idea to make one. Hold on—I’ll get it.” She ran out to the front hall and came back with her backpack. “Here it is,” she said, pulling out a crinkled piece of paper.

  Penny doesn’t know how to spell so well yet. Some of the words didn’t even have vowels. But she read it to me:

  1. Stella will teach me how to play Spit

  2. We can pretend to be twins

  3. Stella will write a book and she will let me do the pictures

  Just then some music started playing from inside Stuart’s pocket. He pulled out his cell phone. “That must be someone calling from the store,” he said.

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “I programmed my phone to play the Candy Man song.” He pressed the “talk” button. “Hello?” he said.

  Muffled sounds came from Stuart’s cell phone. I couldn’t make out the voice or the words, but it sounded like someone was upset.

  “Calm down,” he said. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  There were more muffled words.

  Then Stuart said, “No, we can’t bother Dave about this.” Dave is my dad, in case you don’t remember. “I never saw a form for Lewis.”

  Uh-oh, that meant an order form was probably missing.

  Wait! Did he say Lewis? That was Joshua’s last name! Oh no!!!

  I did see an order form for Joshua Lewis. I left it on Dad’s desk, not on the file cabinet with all the other order forms.

  “I’ll be there as soon as possible,” Stuart said. He hung up the phone, pushed his chair back and stood up. “Girls, there’s a party problem at the store.”

  “Parties aren’t problems,” Penny said.

  “They are when no one knows they’re happening. We’re missing an order form—so we have a lot of kids showing up, and a birthday boy, and no party. They need my help over there so we have to head to the store.”

  “But I can’t go,” I said. “I wasn’t invited.”

  “You don’t need to be invited,” Stuart said. “The store has your name on it.”

  I shook my head.

  “I wasn’t invited either,” Penny sniffed.

  “We can stay here and I’ll watch Penny,” I offered.

  “And I can watch Stella,” Penny added.

  Stuart shook his head. “I made a promise to your parents that I’d take care of you two. I can’t leave you alone.”

  The truth was, I would’ve been scared to stay home with just Penny anyway. But I was scared of the store too.

  “Come on,” Stuart said. “I need to leave now to get this sorted out.”

  Now I had to go to Joshua’s party. And it
was all my fault.

  CHAPTER 9

  Stella Superhero

  (Agirn)

  My heart was pounding in my chest like THUMP THUMP THUMP.

  It was worse than the time when the mean lunch aide Mr. Moyers took my writing notebook away.

  Worse than when the magic gum got caught in my hair.

  Worse than when I had to climb through a tiny window in the back of Evie’s dad’s truck and rescue the keys.

  Worse than when I was worried Willa wouldn’t want to talk to me again.

  Okay, actually maybe not worse than that last one. But it was at least a tie, because this time there were two things to worry about:

  I had to go to a party that I wasn’t invited to

  AND

  The reason I had to go was because I’d lost the order form.

  I didn’t do it on purpose, but I still felt like such a meanie.

  As soon as we walked into the store, Claire and Jess rushed over to us. They’re two other workers at Batts Confections.

  “Stuart!” Jess called. “Oh, Stuart! Thank goodness you’re here. We had no idea this was happening, until twenty-five kids showed up!”

  “Where is everyone?” Stuart asked.

  “In the party room. We placed an order for pizza, but we don’t have an activity to entertain them.”

  “How about cookie decorating?” Stuart suggested. I made a batch of cookies last night.”

  “I suggested that,” Claire said. “The birthday boy said he did that already on a class trip.”

  That’s right, he did. The last time my whole entire class was at the store. But that time, I was invited too.

  “His mother is not happy,” Jess added.

  “It’s all right,” Stuart said. “I’ll go talk to the mother and try to smooth things over. We’ll figure something out. Stella, Penny, why don’t you girls come with me? It may help to have some real Batts family representatives with me.”