Fudge-A-Mania by Judy Blume Read Free Book Online

question about the game."
    As soon as I said Big I wondered if I should have called him Mr. Apfel instead. But Mrs. A acted as if it was okay. She said,
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    "Big's on a fishing trip. He'll be back in a few days."
    A few days! "What about the game on Sunday?" I asked.
    "There's no game this Sunday," Mrs. A said. "It's the annual antique show. They set it up on the high school field."
    "Antique show?"
    "Yes," Mrs. A said. "And Big gets so upset about the game being canceled, he has to leave town. But don't worry... he'll be back before next Sunday. Big never misses a ball game."
    I guess Mrs. A could tell how disappointed I was, because she said, "I just baked chocolate chip cookies..."
    "No, thank you," I said. "I'm not very hungry."
    I ran home and announced the bad news. "No ball game this Sunday because of some dumb antique show!"
    "I read about that in the local paper," Mom said. "I think we should go."
    "Forget it," I told her. "You're not getting me anywhere near those stupid antiques!"
    "It's good there's no game," Fudge said, "because I still don't have a mit t-sy." He looked at Dad. He's been begging for a mit t-sy ever since Mitzi showed him hers, two days ago.
    "Tomorrow afternoon," Dad told him.
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    "Promise?" Fudge asked.
    "Promise," Dad said.
    When Mitzi came over the next morning, Fudge said, "I'm getting my mitt-sy this afternoon."
    "That's nice," Mitzi said. But she was more interested in the book she was carrying than in Fudge's baseball glove. "Did you know I can read?" she asked.
    "So can I," Fudge said.
    Mitzi held up her book and pointed to the title. "What does this say?"
    "I can't read everything," Fudge said. "I can read Hop on Pop and dinosaur books."
    I don't know if he can really read Hop on Pop or if he's memorized it. But it's true that he knows all the words.
    "The name of this book is Tell Me a Mitzi," she said, smiling.
    "Is it, Pete?" Fudge asked.
    "That's what it says," I told him. Fudge looked surprised.
    Mitzi opened the book. "And it's all about me and my baby brother, Jacob."
    "You don't have a baby brother," Fudge said.
    "I do so. And his name is Jacob."
    "Where is he?"
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    "In Boston with Mommy and Daddy. He's not old enough to visit Grandma and Big by himself. He can't even talk. And he makes poop in his diaper."
    "So does Tootsie," Fudge said.
    "I hold my nose when Jacob gets changed," Mitzi said.
    "I hold my nose when Tootsie gets changed," Fudge said.
    "One time Jacob got into his diaper and played with his poop," Mitzi said. "Ooohhhh... it was so bad!"
    "This conversation is getting pretty bad!" I told them.
    They looked at each other and laughed.
    "Let me see that book," Fudge said.
    Mitzi handed it to him and he flipped through the pages. "How come it's about you?"
    "Because I'm special," Mitzi said.
    That afternoon I went to town with Dad and Fudge. The sports store had only one baseball glove small enough to fit him but he didn't mind. "Now I have my own mitt-sy ," he told the clerk.
    "Yes," the clerk said. "I guess you do. And if you put a few drops of oil on it every day you'll make it nice and soft."
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    "A few drops of oil," Fudge repeated, as we left the store. He was wearing his glove and kept punching his fist into it the way Mitzi had with hers.
    When Dad told us he had to stop off at Sawyer's Market, Fudge asked if he could go to the library.
    "Sure," Dad said.
    The library is next door to Sawyer's. From the outside it looks like a little house. There are pots of flowers on the steps and even a screen door. But inside it's like a regular library. I left Fudge in the children's room and headed for the sports section. There were a lot of books about baseball. I was browsing through one that looked interesting when Fudge tugged at my shirt.
    "I can't find it," he said.
    "Find what?"
    "The book I want."
    I figured he was looking for something like Your Favorite Brontosaurus or The Last Tyrannosaurus Rex. So I said, "Go ask the librarian."
    "You come, too."
    "I'm