Franklin's Valentines (2 page)

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Authors: Paulette Bourgeois,Brenda Clark

BOOK: Franklin's Valentines
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Mr. Owl found Franklin in the cloakroom.

“There you are, Franklin,” he said. “Your friends are waiting. We can't start the party without you.”

“I don't belong at the party,” replied Franklin. “I don't have any valentines to give.”

“I know,” said Mr. Owl. “Your mother told me what happened. And I told the class.”

Franklin moaned. “I guess no one's going to give me a valentine now.”

“Hmmm,” said Mr. Owl. “If Bear lost his valentines, would you decide not to give him a card?”

“I'd never do that!” exclaimed Franklin. “Bear is my friend.”

“Maybe Bear feels the same way about you,” replied Mr. Owl.

Franklin thought about that.

“Maybe,” he said. He cheered up a little.

Franklin and Mr. Owl went back to the classroom.

Franklin watched as his friends delivered their cards.

As the pile of valentines in front of him grew bigger and bigger, Franklin felt sadder and sadder. There were so many, and he had none to give in return.

He sighed as he opened Bear's card.

“What's wrong, Franklin?” asked Bear. “Don't you like my card?”

“I do! But I feel bad because I don't have one for you,” said Franklin.

“Oh that's all right,” said Bear. “I don't need a valentine to know you're my friend.”

Franklin smiled.

Everyone gathered around as Franklin opened his other cards.

“Mine's a turtle cut-out,” said Snail.

“Mine's a turtle poem,” said Goose.

“And I made up a turtle riddle,” said Fox.

“These are great!” exclaimed Franklin. “I just wished I had my valentines for all of you!”

“I just wish we could start eating all these goodies,” replied Bear.

Everybody laughed.

That night, Franklin told his parents about the party.

“It sounds as if you have some very good friends,” said Franklin's father.

“I sure do!” agreed Franklin. “Next year, I'm going to make them extra-special valentines!”

“Well, you've got a whole year to get ready,” replied his mother.

“I don't know if I can wait a whole year,” said Franklin.

The next morning, Franklin's mother found him at his table, writing and drawing and cutting and folding.

“What are you making?” she asked.

“It's a surprise,” Franklin answered.

His mother smiled. “Well, hurry up. You'll miss the bus.”

But Franklin didn't hurry. He wrapped his artwork carefully and placed the package in his bag. He made sure that all the buckles were done up tight. Then he hugged the bag to his chest and went out the door.

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