Junie B. Jones Is Not a Crook - Barbara Park [5]
“Yeah, only we have to, Grampa. We have to buy more furry mittens. Or else what will I even do?”
Grampa Miller ruffled my hair.
“Did you look in the Lost and Found at school?” he asked.
I did a sad breath. “Yeah, only that dumb thing doesn’t work that good. ’Cause people don’t always turn stuff in.”
I patted my new pen in my pocket.
“Trust me on this,” I said real soft.
“Well, your mittens could still turn up,” he said. “Folks will surprise you sometimes.”
Then he told me a story about his wallet.
“A few years ago I lost my wallet at the mall. I was sure I would never ever see it again,” he said.
I bobbed my head up and down. “I know it. That’s because of Finders keepers, losers weepers,” I said. “Finders keepers, losers weepers is the rule. Right, Grampa?”
Grampa Miller smiled.
“Well, it might be the rule for some people,” he said. “But luckily, it’s not the rule for everyone. Because the very next day—when I went out to get my mail—there it was! My wallet was sitting right smack in the middle of my mailbox! And not one single penny was missing!”
His eyes looked happy and sparkly.
“Can you imagine that, little girl?” he asked. “Someone had the chance to take everything in my wallet. But instead, they drove all the way to my house. And they put it in my mailbox.”
Just then, he reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.
“Look what I would have lost if they hadn’t returned it,” he said.
He took a picture out of his wallet. And handed it to me.
“It’s you and a baby,” I said.
“But that’s not just any baby,” he said. “That’s you, Junie B.! That’s a picture of the very first time I ever held you.”
He took the picture back and stared and stared at it.
“Nicest thing a stranger ever did for me…bringing this picture back,” he whispered real soft.
Then he leaned over again.
And he kissed me on my head.
7/The Pink Fluffy Girl
After I talked to my grampa, I went to my room.
I closed my door real secret.
Then I took my wonderful pen out of my pocket. And I did a big sigh.
’Cause I had confusion in me, that’s why.
“I wish I never even heard that wallet story,” I said. “’Cause Finders keepers, losers weepers isn’t the rule, apparently. And so now maybe I might be a crook.”
I looked at my wonderful pen.
“Yeah, only I don’t even feel like a crook. I feel like a lucky duck. But I still have to take this thing to the Lost and Found, probably. And then it will go to waste just like the teddy backpack.”
All of a sudden, I heard Mother and Daddy come home from work.
I quick hided my pen under my mattress. ’Cause those two would not be understanding of this situation.
They came in my room and kissed me hello.
I told them what happened to my mittens.
Then I begged and begged for them to take me to the store. But Mother said there’s no more left. And Daddy said there’s no more left, too. And so there was no more left, apparently.
That’s how come I got depressed all over again. And I couldn’t even sleep good that night.
I kept on wondering about who was the mitten crook. And what did he look like. ’Cause I’ve seen crooks on TV before. And they are biggish and meanish with tattoos on theirselves.
Just then, I sat up in my bed.
’Cause a good idea popped into my head, that’s why!
“Hey, a tattoo is easy to spot, I bet!” I said. “And so maybe I can find that crook on the playground tomorrow!”
After that, I went right straight to sleep. ’Cause I would need my strength for crook-looking.
The next day at recess, I didn’t play horses with Lucille and that Grace.
Instead, I runned all around the playground looking for the mitten crook.
Only too bad for me. ’Cause most of the children had their jackets on. And so I couldn’t even see any crooks with tattoos.
Pretty soon, the bell rang.
That is when my eyes got tears in them. ’Cause I would never see my mittens again. Not ever, ever, never.
I started walking to Room Nine.
My nose was sniffling and drippity.
I wiped it on my attractive jacket sleeve.
Then—all of a sudden—a pink fluffy girl skipped past me.
She had