The Judy Moody Double-Rare Collection - Megan Mcdonald [42]
Her makeup book report from when she was in Boston was due today. A makeup book report was NOT going to put her in a bad mood. Even if she had waited till the last minute. Judy decided right then and there to make this her best-ever book report. That’s what a responsible person would do.
She dressed up in her pilgrim costume — the one Grandma Lou had made for Halloween. Ye olde pilgrimme costoom had an apron and made Judy look just like a girl from the American Revolution. Judy wore regular-not-loony pants underneath the skirt for bloomers. And she made thirteen curls in her hair — one for each of the thirteen colonies.
“Who are you? Heidi?” Stink asked at breakfast.
“None of your beeswax,” said Judy.
“Are you a nurse?”
“N-O!” said Judy.
“Hey, I know. You’re Priscilla Somebody! Like a pilgrim?”
“No, I’m Revolutionary. The Girl Paul Revere. For my book report today.”
“Oh. So you’re that Sybil La-Dee-Da?”
It sure was hard to declare independence from bad moods when Stink was around.
“Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad,” Judy called on her way out the door.
“Hey, wait for me!” Stink yelled.
“Sorry! I’m riding my faster-than-lightning bike to the bus stop!” Judy yelled back. And she was off.
Right before the end of the school day, it was time for Judy’s book report. She asked Frank Pearl to help her. They stood up in front of the class.
“Mr. Todd? I have a different kind of book report. It’s acted out. Like a play.”
“Cool!” said Rocky.
“The book I read is called Sybil: The Female Paul Revere,” Judy told her class. “It’s about the Girl Paul Revere. And this,” she said, pointing to Frank, “is the Boy Paul Revere. Frank — I mean Paul — is helping me, Sybil Ludington.”
Judy started with a poem: “‘Listen, my children, and you shall hear / Of a girl who rode way farther than Paul Revere.’”
SYBIL: Hey, Paul Revere? Why are you so famous?
PAUL: Because, Sybil Ludington, I rode my horse all night. I warned everybody the British were coming.
SYBIL: I did, too. My horse is named Star. It was dark. I was scared. It rained all night. I was brave. It was muddy.
PAUL: It wasn’t muddy when I rode.
SYBIL: Well, la-dee-da.
“No fair! It doesn’t say that here!” said Frank.
“I just added it,” said Judy. “Keep reading.”
PAUL: I’m forty years old and I rode sixteen miles.
SYBIL: I’m only sixteen and I rode almost forty miles.
PAUL: I made it to Lexington to warn Sam Adams and John Hancock.
SYBIL: Hey, Paul? Weren’t you caught by the British?
PAUL: At first I wasn’t. Then I was.
SYBIL: Didn’t Mr. Todd say they took your horse?
PAUL: Yes.
SYBIL: Aha! So you got caught and didn’t finish warning everybody. I, Sybil Ludington, DIDN’T get caught, and I warned everybody. I yelled, ‘Stop the British. Mustard at Ludington’s!’ All the British had to go back on their ships. Then everybody came to my house for hot dogs (with mustard). Even Mr. George Famous Washington. The end.
“Did Sybil What’s-Her-Face really eat hot dogs?” asked Jessica Finch.
“She ate mustard,” said Judy. “Ketchup wasn’t invented yet.”
Mr. Todd chuckled. “Actually, the word is muster, not mustard. When Sybil rode her horse to warn everybody, she called them to muster, which means to get together.”
“The other parts were all true,” said Judy. “I give this book five reallys. As in really, really, really, really, really good. It was so good, I stayed inside for recess to read it. It was so good, I read it to my cat and my Venus flytrap!”
“Thank you, Judy,” said Mr. Todd. “Sounds like Sybil Ludington really inspired you.”
“Everybody should know about the Girl Paul Revere. Most people never heard of her, because for some barmy reason they forgot to put girls in history books. I wouldn’t even know about her if you hadn’t told me.”
“Maybe some others will want to read the book now,” said Mr. Todd.
“Sybil Ludington should be in our social studies book for everybody to read about. Girls should get to be in history books, too, you know. Especially girls who did independent stuff, don’t you think?”
“Yes, yes, I do,” said Mr. Todd.
“Girls rule!” all the girls