The Judy Moody Double-Rare Collection - Megan Mcdonald [2]
“Pond-scum green?” said Judy.
“Wrong! Eggplant,” said Stink.
“EGGPLANT! Eggplant is not a color! Eggplant is not even an egg. Eggplant is a vegetable. A squeegy-weegy vegetable.”
“I was still thinking it,” said Stink. “You have about as much magic power as an eggplant. A squeegy-weegy eggplant.”
“Face it, Stink. I have special powers. Even without my mood ring.”
“So you don’t need it back,” said Stink, flashing the ring under Judy’s nose.
“A person with special powers, such as mine, should have a mood ring. It goes with predicting the future, like a crystal ball. Has the ring turned purple on you?”
“Nope.”
“See? It only turns purple on Extra-Special-Powers people. It turns pond-scum green on plain old encyclopedia readers.”
Stink stared at the ring.
“In fact, I predict that your finger will turn green and fall off if you don’t give me back my ring,” said Judy.
“I’m never taking it off,” said Stink.
“We’ll see,” said Judy.
On Saturday, Stink was reading the encyclopedia. Again! He wiggled his loose tooth some more. With his mood-ring finger, of course. The mood ring glowed. It glittered. It gleamed. Stink scratched his head with his mood-ring finger about one hundred times a minute.
“Stink, do you have lice or something?” Judy asked.
“No,” said Stink. “I have a mood ring!” He laughed himself silly.
Mr. Lice Head was giving Judy a bad case of the Moody blues. She could not stay in the same room and watch her mood-ring-that-wasn’t-hers one more minute. She needed to think.
Judy looked out the back door. It was raining outside. She pulled on her rubber boots, dashed across the backyard, and crawled inside the Toad Pee Club Clubhouse (aka the old blue tent).
Plip-plop, plip-plop went the rain. It was lonely in the clubhouse all by herself. She wished the other members of the Toad Pee Club were here. Well, at least Rocky and Frank Pearl, not Stink.
She even missed Toady. Maybe she shouldn’t have let Toady go after all. Even if it was to help save the world.
Ra-reek! Ra-reek! went the toads outside.
Boing! Just like that, Judy had an idea. A perfect predicts-the-future idea.
She, Judy Moody, predicted Stink would give the mood ring back in no time. All she needed was a yogurt container, a little luck, and a toad.
Judy held out her umbrella and bent over, searching for toads. She looked in a pile of logs. She looked inside a loop of garden hose. She looked under the old bathtub behind the shed.
Ra-reek! Ra-reek!
She could hear about a thousand toads, but couldn’t see a single one. There had to be a Toady-looking toad around here somewhere. It’s not like she was looking for a rare northeast beach tiger beetle or anything.
Judy was just about to give up and go back inside when she heard something. Something close. Something right there on the back porch. Something like Ra-reek! Ra-reek!
It was Mouse! Mouse sounded like a toad!
The cat was drinking from her water dish.
Wait! Mouse did not sound like a toad. Mouse’s water dish sounded like a toad. A real live toad was swimming in Mouse’s water dish!
Judy took a deep breath. Slowly, slowly, she held out the yogurt container.
“Ha!” Judy trapped the toad under the yogurt container. She wondered if it looked like Toady. She lifted up the container to study the toad.
RA-REEK! Boing!
The toad hopped across the porch, down the steps, and into the wet grass.
“Here, Toady, Toady. Nice toad. Pretty boy. Come to Judy.”
Ra-reek! Ra-reek! “Gotcha!” This time Judy caught him with her hands.
He was the same size as Toady. He had speckles and warts and bumps like Toady. He even had a white stripe down his back. Just like Toady.
“Same-same!” said Judy.
All of a sudden, Judy felt something warm and wet on her hand.
“Toady Two!” she cried.
Sneaky Judy hid Toady Two under a bucket in the tent. Then she went to find Stink.
“Hey, Stink,” yelled Judy, dripping in the doorway. “Let’s go hunt for stuff in the backyard.” Stink did not even look up from reading the S encyclopedia.
“S is for Saturday,” said Judy. “S is for Stand Up! S is for I’m going to Scream