Ivy and Bean_ Books 4,5,6 - Annie Barrows [16]
Bean got ready to run.
Crummy Matt carefully put Blister in his shirt pocket.
Ivy smiled purely.
Crummy Matt reached out and pulled Ivy’s sparkly headband off her hair. “Who says I want to be your friend?” he said and threw the headband into the street. Then he turned around and went into his house.
Ivy was thinking loving things about all living creatures, even disgusting creatures like eyeless sea worms. Then a hummingbird whizzed past her head. It was beautiful.
Ivy pictured the shimmering creature on her shoulder like a little jewel and held her breath. Careful. Don’t move. Think like a hummingbird. “Vvvvvvvum,” she murmured.
“What?” said Bean.
Ivy shook her head. Shhh, Bean. The hummingbird darted from flower to flower. Come on, look at me, thought Ivy. See how good I am. The hummingbird came to a stop on a stem and turned to look at her thoughtfully. For a second, Ivy was a hummingbird inside. Then—whoosh. The bird zoomed past her head again and disappeared into the blue sky.
Ivy was discouraged. The hummingbird hadn’t even noticed her pure heart. Her headband was still in the street and was probably going to get run over. Bean had told the other kids about the birds and the wolf, and now Sophie W., Sophie S., Liana, and Dino were lined up on the curb across Pancake Court, staring at Ivy. Katy was there, too, sitting on her paper bag, staring. It was distracting.
Bean was distracting, too. She was standing beside Ivy on the lawn. She was supposed to be holding up her arms for the birds, but she kept bending down to scratch her legs. No bird in its right mind was going to land on Ivy’s fingers if Bean kept on scratching like that.
“Stop scratching,” whispered Ivy.
“I’ve got mosquito bites,” explained Bean. “Want to see?”
“No,” said Ivy. She dropped her arms and turned to Bean. “Look, Bean, I’m sorry, but I don’t think you’re concentrating hard enough to get a bird.”
“Hey!” Bean felt herself turning red. “I’m concentrating. I’m just itchy.”
“I don’t think you’re thinking loving thoughts. I think you’re thinking about how itchy you are.”
“Hey! I can’t help it if I’m itchy. And if you’re so good, you should be feeling sorry for me because I’m itchy,” said Bean.
“I do feel sorry for you,” said Ivy. “But you’re not supposed to feel sorry for yourself. You’re not supposed to be thinking about yourself at all! You’re going to ruin my chance to have birds and wolves because you’re weakening my goodness.”
“I am not!” yelled Bean. “I’m just as good as you are! I’m not thinking about myself! I’m thinking loving thoughts!” She glanced around Ivy’s front yard and spotted a ladybug on a leaf. “See? Look at that ladybug! She wasn’t there a minute ago! She’s following me!” Bean kneeled down beside the leaf. She was eye
to eye with the ladybug. The ladybug froze. Bean tipped her head like she was listening. She nodded. “This ladybug says she can feel how pure of heart I am.”
“She does not,” Ivy said.
“How do you know?” Bean yelped. “Your heart isn’t so pure. That’s what this ladybug here—” Bean jabbed her finger toward the leaf. “Oops.” Bean had jabbed too hard and the ladybug had fallen off the leaf and dropped to the ground. “Sorry, little ladybug,” whispered Bean, hurrying to turn the ladybug right side up. The ladybug scuttled away as fast as it could.
Bean thumped down on the grass. “I saved her life. That was good!”
“But you knocked her over first,” Ivy said.
“Dumb bug,” Bean scowled.
Ivy looked at her. “Wait a minute,” she said.
“What?”
“I’m getting an idea.”
“Jeez. I hope it’s more fun than being good,” said Bean grumpily.
“Way more fun,” Ivy said.
“Well? What is it?” asked Bean.
“Being bad.”
THE WORST WORD IN THE WORLD
“Let me get this straight,” Bean said. “I do something bad, and then you talk me into being good?”
“Yeah,” said Ivy. “I reform you. Just like that guy reformed the wolf.”
“I’m not licking your feet,” said Bean. “No way, no how.”
“I