white, and blue toothpaste and washed her face with her very own (Bonjour Bunny) washcloth. She read a whole chapter of her
Ramona the Brave
library book. After only twelve and a half minutes, she couldn’t even stay awake anymore. She climbed the ladder to her top bunk.
“Lights out!” said Mom. “Good night, sweetie.” Dad blew her a kiss.
After Mom and Dad pulled the door almost-shut, Judy lay on her top bunk and gazed up at the night-sky ceiling full of glow-in-the-dark stars.
Star-spangled bananas! She, Judy Moody, was Independent-with-a-capital-
I
. As independent as Ben Franklin. John Hancock. Paul Revere. As independent as Sybil Ludington on her midnight ride.
Being independent was brilliant! The bee’s knees. And staying up late was Yankee Doodle Dandy.
Judy was getting sleepy. So sleepy. But just before she drifted off, she took out her flashlight pen and wrote something on the wall, in permanent marker, right next to her pillow:
J UDY M OODY S LEPT H ERE .