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

didn't answer she reached for the book I was holding.
    " Do you have your card?" she asked.
    " My card?"
    "Yes... your library card."
    " No ... I guess I forgot it."
    "That's okay... I can hold the book for you until next Saturday."
    "Next Saturday," I said.
    I don't know how I got out of there, my legs were shaking so bad. I was feeling kind of weak all over and dizzy, too.
    Fudge came out of Sawyer's Market just as I came out of the library. "Dad says he's next on line. He'll meet us back at the car." He stopped for a minute and looked at me. "What's wrong, Pete?"
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    "Nothing... why?"
    "You look weird. Are you going to puke?"
    "No... I'm just a little... dizzy."
    "Put your head down," he said. "That's what Mom always tells me when I'm dizzy."
    "I'm not that kind of dizzy," I said.
    "Oh."
    "It's more like I'm floating." I started to sing, "Who can explain it, who can tell you why?"
    That night when I got into bed, I stared into my Kreskin's Crystal and repeated Isobel's name over and over. I didn't care that her friends called her Izzy. To me she'd always be Isobel. A beautiful name. A name that really fits her. If I were the Amazing Kreskin I'd be able to plan all my dreams. I'd probably be able to transfer thoughts from my head into Isobel's and make her dream about me. I closed my eyes and concentrated. Isobel... Isobel...
    But then Fudge came racing into the room. He took a flying leap and landed on my bed. I hid my Kreskin's Crystal under my pillow where he couldn't get his hands on it.
    "I'm ready to start my book," he announced. "I'll say it and you write it down."
    "Why don't you wait until tomorrow? Then your baby-sitter can write it down for you."
    "I can't wait, Pete."
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    "Why not?"
    "Who can explain it, who can tell you why?" He laughed as he handed me paper and a pencil.
    There was no way he was going to give up. The sooner I started writing, the sooner I'd be able to get back to Isobel. So I took the pencil and said, "Okay... let's go."
    "Tell Me a Fudge," he said, "by Farley Drexel Hatcher. Chapter One -- How Turtle Got His Name."
    He waited while I wrote that down. Then he yawned. "That's it for tonight, Pete. Tomorrow I'll write Chapter Two."
    "I can hardly wait," I told him.
    He got into his own bed and two seconds later he was out cold.
    I took my Kreskin's Crystal from under my pillow and held it tightly. Isobel... Isobel ... Tell Me an Isobel...
    I had a dream that night, but it wasn't about Isobel. It was about Sheila Tubman! I woke up feeling really disappointed.
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    10 Green Gurgling Gas
    On Wednesday Sheila got a phone call during breakfast. As soon as she hung up she started bawling.
    "What's wrong, honey?" Fudge asked.
    "My friend Mouse Ellis has chicken pox and can't come to Maine!''
    Grandma put her arms around Sheila. "You must be terribly disappointed."
    "I am," Sheila wailed. "Everything happens to me! Why does it have to be my friend who gets sick? Why couldn't Jimmy Fargo get chicken pox instead?"
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    "Jimmy had chicken pox in second grade," I said. "Don't you remember... we all had them."
    That made Sheila cry even harder. "But it's soooo unfair!"
    "Where is it written that life is fair?" Grandma asked. "It's all ups and downs, isn't it, Buzzy?"
    Buzzy Senior nodded. "These things happen," he told Sheila.
    That's when I burped. I didn't mean to. It just came out. Probably I drank my orange juice too fast. But Sheila glared at me. "I heard that, Peter!"
    "Heard what?" I asked.
    "That stupid laugh!" Sheila said.
    "That was no laugh. That was a burp."
    Sheila turned to Buzzy Senior. "Grandpa... make him stop! He's so mean... he's glad Mouse can't come to Maine."
    Before I had the chance to explain, Tootsie flicked a spoonful of oatmeal across the table. It landed on Sheila's face, halfway between her mouth and her eyes.
    "You see..." Sheila cried. "You see how everything happens to me?"
    "It's just oatmeal," Grandma said, handing Sheila a piece of paper towel.
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    "That's not the