Stink and the Incredible Super-Galactic Jawbreaker Page 2

  “And it’s F-R-E-E, free.” said Stink. “Free as a bird! And all mine!”

  Judy was mint green with envy. She wished she’d gotten two tons of special-delivery, sign-in-cursive free candy and stuff. “Stink, you can’t just keep all this stuff. It’s like stealing or something.”

  “Or something,” said Stink. “No way am I giving it back. I didn’t take it.”

  Just then the phone rang. “Stink, it’s for you,” said Mom. “They asked for Mr. Moody, and they don’t mean Dad.”

  Mom passed the phone to Stink and went back into her office.

  “Yes, I’m him. . . . Uh-huh. . . . Really? No lie? . . . How many do I want? . . . I can have twenty-five? . . . With monkeys? Okay. . . . Yes, I think I would be satisfied.”

  “What?” asked Judy.

  “It was the City Parks Department. I get a whole bunch of FREE monkey pencils and one free pass to the zoo! To go see monkeys! And lemurs!”

  “I’m telling,” said Judy. “Mo-om!”

  “Shh!” said Stink.

  Mom came back into the front room. “It’s no fair,” Judy told her. “Stink gets tons of free stuff and he won’t give me ANY and I wrote a letter one time and all I got was a big fat nothing.”

  “Stink?” asked Mom. “What’s this all about?”

  “Nothing!” said Stink.

  “It doesn’t look like nothing.”

  “Okay, okay. Mrs. D. taught us how to write letters and I was just practicing, you know, like homework . . .”

  “Ha!” said Judy.

  “And maybe I sent some letters to some people. . . .”

  “Companies!” said Judy. “Begging for free stuff!”

  “No way!” said Stink. “I just told them some stuff that was wrong with things, and they sent me all this! And it’s free, and no way is it stealing!” said Stink.

  “Stink,” said Mom, “no more letters. Later on we’ll talk to Dad about what to do with all this stuff.”

  “Do we have to send it back?” asked Stink.

  “We’ll see,” said Mom.

  “Ha!” Judy whispered. “That means YES!”

  After that, the mail got way boring. No exciting letters, no mysterious packages. Stink got a postcard about wearing a seat belt, a new issue of Short Stuff magazine, and some envelope addressed in super-messy writing. He didn’t bother opening it. Bor-ing!

  Then, after dinner, as if Mom had read his mind, she told Stink out of the blue, “I almost forgot. A box came for you. It’s on the table.”

  “Not another one,” said Judy, hitting her forehead. “No fair. Stink, you’re not supposed to write any more letters.”

  “I didn’t!” said Stink. “I swear!”

  “Don’t worry. It’s from someone you know and love this time.”

  “Jawbreaker Heaven? Gobstoppers? I know and love them.”

  “No. Grandma Lou. She heard about Pajama Day.”

  “Pajama Day?” asked Judy.

  “It’s only in Mrs. D.’s class,” said Stink. “We get to bring stuffed animals and a sleeping bag and wear pajamas and stuff. Then we read books all day and we don’t have math and she brings her dog.”

  “What does her dog have to do with Pajama Day?” asked Judy.

  “I’m just saying,” said Stink.

  “How come Stink gets a present and not me?” asked Judy.

  “It’s not a present,” said Stink. “It’s for Pajama Day. That’s like homework.”

  “Just my luck,” said Judy. “I have math and spelling, and Stink gets pajama homework.” She peered over Stink’s shoulder as he opened the box.

  “Stop crowding,” said Stink. “I need my personal space.”

  Judy reached into the box and snatched something. “Look! I got a Bonjour Bunny shirt!”

  “How come you get that?” asked Stink.

  “For Un-pajama Day!” said Judy.

  Stink pulled out a pair of striped PJs with bacon and eggs all over them. “No way am I wearing these for Pajama Day,” said Stink.

  “Why not?” asked Mom.

  “Hello! Kindergarten!” said Stink.

  “Well, I think they’re cute as a bug’s ear,” said Mom.

  Mouse raced over and licked the pajama eggs.

  “Mouse likes them!” said Judy. “Look, Stink. The sunny-side-up eggs have glow-in-the-dark middles! You love stuff that glows.”

  “Wait. Let me see,” said Stink.

  “Just try them on, honey,” said Mom.

  Stink pulled off his shirt and put on the pajama top. He stretched his arms out and turned back and forth, showing off.

  “Stink, you look like a walking menu. No, a night-light! No, an electric eel!” said Judy. “How will you ever get to sleep?”

  “It’s better than the I TRUCKS ones I got last year,” said Stink. “Besides, the glow-in-the-dark part is kool-with-a-k!” All of a sudden, Stink started to squirm. He scratched his arm. He scratched his neck. He pulled at the tag in back.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Judy. “Your new PJs have cooties?”

  “These pajamas itch,” said Stink.

  “Here, I’ll cut off the tags and soften them up in the washer for tomorrow,” said Mom. “You get ready for bed now, Stink. You too, Judy.”

  “Good night! Don’t let the bedbugs bite!” Dad called from the kitchen.

  “But can’t I stay up until my new PJs are done?” asked Stink.

  “You mean until your homework’s done?” Judy laughed. “Stink loves homework so much he wants to wear it!”

  The next morning, Stink woke up on the sunny-side-up side of bed. He did not even count his jawbreakers or play with his microbots. Today was the day he got to wear glow-in-the-dark pajamas to school! Double kool-with-a-k!

  He ran downstairs. He looked under Mouse. He looked in the laundry-pile jumble on the couch. He looked on top of the washing machine. Where were his glow-in-the-dark pajamas?

  That’s when he saw it.

  A great big ball of lint. Not just any old mousy gray lint. A super-galactic, neon-bright, glow-in-the-dark ball of not-gray lint.

  UH-OH! If this was what he thought it was, Stink was going to be mad as a hornet! He ran to find Mom.

  “Stink, honey,” she told him, “I’m sorry to tell you that there was a problem with the new pajamas.”

  Problem pajamas? Pajamas should not have problems. Math tests should have problems. Brainteasers should have problems. Inventors should have problems.

  “This?” Stink held out the super-galactic planet-size lint ball.

  “I’m afraid so,” said Mom. “One wash and all the glow stuff rubbed off.”

  Just then, Judy rushed into the room. “Look at me! My brand-new Bonjour Bunny shirt. It turned alien green. I look like a lime lollipop!”

  “You mean my glow-in-the-dark stuff rubbed off on her?”

  “Huh?” asked Judy.

  Mom held up the pajamas. The bacon was just black wavy lines. And the sunny-side-up eggs were sunny-side-down brown mud pies.

  “No way can I wear those!” said Stink.

  “Think of it as scrambled eggs, Stink,” said Judy.

  “I could try sending them back to Grandma Lou,” said Mom. “Maybe she can take them back. But you won’t have any new pajamas to wear today. Your choice.”

  Pajama Day was going to be a big fat flop. Instead of way-cool glow-in-the-dark PJs, all Stink had to wear was a lousy lint ball.

  “Send them back,” said Stink. “Those bacon and eggs are toast.”

  Mom still made him write a thank-you letter to Grandma Lou, to send back with the pajamas.

  While Stink was writing his letter, Judy took the pajamas upstairs. She was up there all during breakfast. When she came back down, she announced, “Stink, I solved your pajama problem!”

  “Huh?” asked Stink.

  Judy dragged Stink by the arm into the coat closet and shut the door. Hey! Something glowed! Like a night-light! Like a thousand and one fireflies!

>   “My pajamas!” said Stink. “What did you . . . ? How did you . . . ?”

  “I painted them with glow-in-the-dark paint!” said Judy. “So you don’t have to send them back. The eggs are jellyfish now, and the bacon strips are electric eels!”

  “Jumping jawbreakers!” said Stink. “Thanks!” He hugged his sister. “This is the way-coolest ever! Now I won’t be the only kid in the whole second grade without cool pajamas. And I’ll be the only one who glows!”

  “Does this mean I can have a free candy bar now?” asked Judy.

  “We’ll see,” said Stink.

  When Stink got to class 2D, his teacher was wearing a fuzzy THINK PINK bathrobe! She also had bunny slippers and a pillow and a real-live dog with bad breath named Pickles.

  Stink forgot all about sunny-side-down eggs. He forgot about giant lint balls. What in the world could be better than wearing not-itchy, glow-in-the-dark pajamas to school and reading all day!

  Stink plopped his sleeping bag next to his super-best-friend, Webster. “Are those your pajamas?” he asked.

  “They’re not my soccer uniform,” said Webster. “But how would you know? I got them for my birthday.”

  Webster sure was being a grump. Stink did not know why. He hunkered down inside his sleeping bag and stuck his nose in a pop-up book of animal skeletons. He propped his head up on Fang, his six-foot-long stuffed-animal snake. He popped a FREE fireball in his mouth.

  “Want one?” he asked Webster.

  “You’re not allowed to eat candy in school,” said Webster. He turned the other way and stuck his nose in a book.

  “Stink? Webster? Did you hear?” asked Sophie of the Elves. “We’re having a Pajama Parade. We get to walk through all the halls. And we get to go to a special assembly in the library, where Mrs. Mack will tell stories from around the world. And she wears hats and plays drums. And I get to sit by you guys.”

  “Who cares?” said Webster.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Stink asked Sophie. Sophie just shrugged.

  WOW! PAJAMA PARADE! ASSEMBLY! Assemblies in the library were the best! Stink could not wait to hear stories from around the world (with hats and drums).

  Mrs. D.’s second-grade class paraded past the office and even down the fifth-grade hall. In the library, Stink sat beside Sophie of the Elves. Webster was right behind Stink. Mrs. D. pointed for Webster to sit down in the space right next to Stink.

  “I’m not sitting by him,” said Webster.

  “Let’s not make a mountain out of a molehill,” said Mrs. D.

  Webster sat down.

  Mrs. Mack, the librarian, held up two fingers. “Let’s show what good listeners we are at the Virginia Dare School,” said Mrs. Mack.

  “And remember,” said Mrs. D., “let’s keep our hands to ourselves.”

  Stink couldn’t stand being ignored. Especially by his best friend. As soon as Mrs. Mack started to tell a story, Stink tapped Webster on the shoulder when he wasn’t looking, just for fun.

  “Hey!” said Webster. Stink pretended to be listening to the story. Webster tapped Stink on the shoulder, then pretended his hands were in his lap. Stink tapped him back. Webster tapped him back harder. “Ow!” said Stink.

  “Stink!” whispered Mrs. D. She pointed to Stink and Webster to settle down and keep quiet.

  “You guys are in trouble!” whispered Sophie of the Elves.

  “Now,” said Mrs. Mack, “we’re going to turn down the lights and travel to deepest Africa. I hope you like scary stories!”

  The lights went out. Stink glowed like a night-light! Mrs. D. would sure see him now if he tapped Webster again. Stink pulled both of his arms all the way inside his pajama shirt, just to be safe. He did not want his tapping fingers to get him into any more trouble.

  Drumbeats filled the air. Mrs. Mack made her voice low and whispery. The folktale was all about The Bad One, this spooky voice coming from inside a cave. The voice sounded so big and bad he was scaring the pants off all the other animals in the rain forest. At the end, The Bad One turned out to be nothing but a centipede. Phew! A South African red-legged centipede!

  Stink knew all about centipedes. “Once, in the Toad Pee Club with my sister,” he told Webster, “we tried to set a record for the longest human centipede.”

  “So?” said Webster.

  Stink forgot all about paying attention. Something was wrong with Webster. He tried to make up a centipede joke to tell Webster.

  “What goes ninety-nine clunk?” Stink asked Webster. “Or thirty-three clunk? Or sixty-seven clunk?” Webster ignored him. “A centipede with a broken leg!” Stink cracked up. He flashed his fireball-red tongue at Webster. Webster did not even crack a smile.

  Mrs. Mack was asking, “How many legs does a centipede have?” Stink knew the answer. He went to raise his hand, but his arms were still inside his pajama shirt.

  “One hundred!” said a first grader in the front row.

  Stink knew one hundred was not the whole answer. He just had to raise his hand. He tried to raise an elbow from inside his shirt.

  Something was wrong. Very wrong. Something had happened to Stink’s pajama top. It shrink-shrank-shrunk! Stink wiggled and wriggled and tried to worm his way out of the shirt. Help! Where were the armholes? It was still dark. He couldn’t see a thing. His shirt was all twisted. His arms were all caught. His elbows poked inside his shirt like a punching bag, but he couldn’t find his way out.

  Help! Stink was stuck inside his pajama top!

  “The name centipede means ‘one hundred feet.’ That’s why we think all centipedes have a hundred legs,” said Mrs. Mack.

  Stink was still wrestling with his pajamas. The top went up over his head. Stink lost his head! He wrestled some more. Finally! He poked his arm out!

  “Ow!” he heard Webster cry. “Hey, you sucker-punched me!” He shoved Stink into Sophie of the Elves.

  “Hey!” said Stink. “I was only—”

  “Boys!” said Mrs. D. “Come with me.”

  First the shirt. Then hitting Webster. Double trouble!

  All the lights were on now. The room was suddenly somebody-got-in-trouble quiet. Webster had his head down and looked like he was going to cry. Everybody stared at the boys as they followed Mrs. Dempster out into the hallway.

  “Okay, you two. What’s this fighting all about? I thought you were the best of friends.”

  “Stink started it,” said Webster. “I was just sitting there, and he punched me for no reason.”

  “I didn’t mean to hit him! Honest!” said Stink. “It’s all my pajamas’ fault. I got stuck inside my shirt! Cross my heart. No lie. I was just trying to raise my hand to say that most centipedes have fifteen pairs of legs. But some have up to 177 pairs, and if a leg gets cut off, it grows back, and some centipedes even glow in the dark.”

  “So it was an accident?” asked Mrs. Dempster.

  “Yes!” said Stink.

  “Can you say you’re sorry, Stink?”

  “Sorry, Webster,” said Stink. “I didn’t mean to hit you.”

  “Webster?” said Mrs. Dempster. “Are you okay now? Do you need to go see the nurse?”

  “Whatever,” said Webster.

  “Boy,” Stink said. “I never knew pajamas could get a person into so much trouble!” But Webster was already walking down the hall toward the nurse’s office. His back was mad. Even his hair was mad.

  Stink felt lousy. Worse than a NOT-one-hundred-legged centipede. He dragged himself home from school, down the street, up the sidewalk, and in the front door.

  Dad was home early. “How was Pajama Day?” he asked Stink.

  “Terrible,” said Stink. “I had one of those terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, just-like-that-kids’-book yuck days.”

  “What’s wrong?” asked Mom, coming into the room.

  “Stink hit his friend Webster today!” said Judy. “At the library assembly. It was all over school. He got in way-big trouble and the teacher took him out and yelled at
him up and down and the whole school saw and—”

  “That’s enough, Judy,” said Dad.

  “It wasn’t my fault,” said Stink. “It was my pajamas’ fault!” Stink told Mom and Dad what happened. “I’m going to write a letter to the pajama people and tell them their pajamas got me in big trouble and made me lose my best friend,” said Stink.

  “No more letters!” said Judy.

  “No more letters,” said Mom.

  “Well, maybe one more,” said Dad. “How about a letter of apology to your friend Webster?”

  Stink went upstairs. He hid the troublemaker PJs in the way-back of his bottom dresser drawer, where the pinchy underwear, socks with holes, and the too-baby I TRUCKS pajamas from last year were.

  Then Stink worked on the letter as if it was homework.

  Stink searched around his desk for an envelope. He would put the letter on Webster’s desk tomorrow. Hello! What was this? Under a pile of jawbreakers, Stink found an envelope. Not an empty envelope. A messy-handwriting envelope addressed to Stink Moody. As in him!

  All of a sudden Stink remembered getting the messy-writing letter. But he’d been too busy counting his jawbreakers to even open it! He ripped it open now.

  YOU ARE INVITED said the card. It was spelled out in balloons held by gorillas. The card was from Webster. It was for his birthday party. And his birthday party was Saturday. LAST Saturday.

  Stink had missed Webster’s birthday!

  Now he knew why Webster was such a grump. Stink felt like a heel. No, he felt like 177 pairs of heels. Worse than a broken-legged centipede. Stink felt like a stinkbug.

  He had to think of some way to make it up to Webster. They just had to be friends again. Had to!

  Stink thought and thought. He petted Mouse. He petted Toady. He scratched his head a lot. Scratching your head was supposed to help you think, right? All it did was make him look like he had fleas.

  At last, Stink got an idea. He went downstairs to get Dad in on his idea. Then he finished the letter to Webster.