The Judy Moody Double-Rare Collection - Megan Mcdonald [1]
Stink fished the ring out of the trash. “A mood ring? Cool!” He tried on the ring. It turned black. Bat-wing black.
“See?” said Judy. “Worthless!”
Stink pressed his thumb to the oogley center. The ring turned green! Green as a turtle’s neck. Green as a toad’s belly.
Judy could not believe her eyes. “Let me see that,” she said. It was green all right. “Stink, you can give me back my mood ring now.”
“You threw it in the trash,” Stink told her, waving his mood-ring hand in front of her. “It’s mine now.”
“Yuck! Green looks like pond scum.”
“Does not!”
“Green means jealous. Green means green with envy. Green means you wish you were me.”
“Why would I wish that? You don’t have a mood ring,” said Stink.
“C’mon, Stinker. I went through seven bowls of cereal for that ring. I gave up going to Fur & Fangs for that ring. I froze and burned myself for that ring.”
“It’s still mine,” said Stink.
“ROAR!” said Judy.
The next day, Judy was in a mood. The burnt-toast kind of bad mood. The kind that turns your mood ring b-l-a-c-k.
If only she could convince Stink that she had magic powers. A person with magic powers should own a mood ring. What good was a mood ring in the hands of someone with un-magic powers?
Where was that Stink-a-Roo anyway? Probably down in the living room, reading the encyclopedia.
Judy ran downstairs. Stink was lying on the floor with encyclopedias all around him, wiggling his loose tooth.
“I knew it!” said Judy. “I just predicted you’d be reading the encyclopedia. I have special powers, superduper magic powers, see-the-future powers!”
“I’m always reading the encyclopedia,” said Stink. “Which letter am I on?”
“M,” said Judy.
“WRONG!” said Stink. “S!”
“I still predicted it,” said Judy. What else could she predict?
Judy went to the kitchen and brought back a Tasty Tuna Treat for Mouse.
She hid it in her pocket.
“I predict that Mouse will come into the room,” she said. She waved the Tasty Tuna Treat behind her back, where Stink couldn’t see it.
Mouse came slinking into the room. “Mouse!” said Judy. “What a surprise! Except . . . I predicted it! Ha!”
“Mouse always comes into the room we’re in,” said Stink.
“Well, what if I said I could read our mother’s mind?”
“I’d rather read the encyclopedia,” said Stink.
“Stink, you have to come with me!” said Judy. “So I can prove my amazing powers of prediction!” Stink followed Judy into Mom’s office.
“Hi, Mom,” said Judy. “Guess what?”
“What is it?” said Mom, looking up over her glasses.
“I know what you’re thinking,” said Judy. She squeezed her eyes shut, wrinkled her nose, and pressed her fingertips to her temples.
“You’re thinking . . . you wish I’d clean under my bed for once instead of bugging you. You’re thinking . . . you wish Stink would get his homework out of the way for the weekend.”
“Amazing! That’s exactly what I’m thinking!” said Mom.
“See?” said Judy.
“Were you really thinking that, Mom?” asked Stink.
“Now I predict that Dad will walk into the house,” said Judy.
“You heard the garage door,” said Stink.
“True. Okay, it’s Dad’s night to cook. I predict spaghetti.”
“All he knows how to make is either spaghetti or ziti.”
Stink ran into the kitchen. Judy ran after him.
“Dad, Dad!” Stink said. “What’s for dinner?”
“Spaghetti,” said Dad.
“Lucky guess,” Stink said to Judy.
“ESP,” Judy said.
“Okay,” said Stink. “I’m thinking of a number.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” said Judy.
“C’mon! What’s the number?”
Judy grabbed a dishtowel and wrapped it around her head like a turban.
She closed her eyes. She pressed her fingertips to her temples. She made funny noises. “Ali baba, abra-ca-dab-ra. Eeny meany green zucchini.”
“Does the dishtowel help with ESP?” asked Stink.
“Quiet! I’m concentrating.”
“Hurry up. What am I thinking?”
“You’re thinking I don’t really have Extra Special Powers.”
“Right,” said Stink.
“You’re thinking ESP shouldn’t take this long,” Judy said.
“Right! What about my number?”
Stink’s favorite number was always his age. “Seven,” said Judy.
“Right again!” said Stink. “Now I’m thinking of a color.