The Judy Moody Double-Rare Collection - Megan Mcdonald [46]
They flipped through pages of pictures and pebbles, pressed leaves and pencil rubbings, tea bags and sugar packets and Band-Aids, her Declaration of Independence, the postcard from Tori.
She flipped to the last page. She, Judy Moody, was gobsmacked! Glued to the page was a fancy certificate on old-timey paper that looked like parchment.
Taped to the same page was a shiny new quarter.
“Holy macaroni!” said Judy. “Look! A Maine quarter with a lighthouse! Now I have liberty AND the purse of happiness.”
“And with more allowance, you can pay me back a lot faster!” said Stink.
“Wait till I write to Tori and tell her. My Declaration of Independence really worked!”
“Except for the getting your own bathroom thing.”
Judy Moody hugged her scrapbook, then Stink. She found Mom and Dad and hugged them, too. She even kissed Mouse on her wet pink nose.
“Independence doesn’t end here,” said Mom. “We’re going to expect you to keep being responsible.”
“And, of course, you still always have to do your homework,” Dad told her.
“And be nice to me!” said Stink.
“Maybe I could also stay up a teeny-weeny bit late? Just for tonight?” asked Judy. “On account of how independent I am now and how I’m not going to be treated like a baby anymore and stuff.”
“Fifteen minutes,” said Dad.
“And just for tonight,” said Mom.
Fifteen whole minutes!
“No fair!” said Stink. “Then I’m declaring independence from brushing my teeth! Give me liberty or give me bad breath!”
“One independent kid is enough for now,” said Mom. Dad laughed.
That night, in those fifteen minutes, Judy ate a snack of grapes and goldfish (the crackers!). She brushed her teeth with red, white, and blue toothpaste and washed her face with her very own (Bonjour Bunny) washcloth. She read a whole chapter of her Ramona the Brave library book. After only twelve and a half minutes, she couldn’t even stay awake anymore. She climbed the ladder to her top bunk.
“Lights out!” said Mom. “Good night, sweetie.” Dad blew her a kiss.
After Mom and Dad pulled the door almost-shut, Judy lay on her top bunk and gazed up at the night-sky ceiling full of glow-in-the-dark stars.
Star-spangled bananas! She, Judy Moody, was Independent-with-a-capital-I. As independent as Ben Franklin. John Hancock. Paul Revere. As independent as Sybil Ludington on her midnight ride.
Being independent was brilliant! The bee’s knees. And staying up late was Yankee Doodle Dandy.
Judy was getting sleepy. So sleepy. But just before she drifted off, she took out her flashlight pen and wrote something on the wall, in permanent marker, right next to her pillow:
JUDY MOODY SLEPT HERE.