Junie B. Jones and that Meanie Jim's Birthday (5 page)

After that, Mother picked me up. And she sat me on my bed. And she growled more mad words at me.

They were…I cannot be trusted to have a real actual hammer. And I cannot be trusted to have a real actual tool belt. And I am never ever allowed to have nails until I am
all grown up and I live in my own apartment.

Daddy walked up and down in front of me.

“Why, Junie B.? Why would you do such a thing? Why would you ever nail your door shut?” he said.

I started to cry a little bit.

“Because,” I said.

“Because
why?”
he grouched.

“Because I felt pressure inside me,” I said. “Because that party is ruining my whole entire Saturday. Because first I had to shop. And then Mother said I had to get a bath and wash my hair. Only I don’t even
like
that meanie head boy. And so how come I have to get clean and give him that wonderful tool belt? ’Cause what kind of deal is that?”

Mother did an angry breath.

“This was
your
decision, Junie B.,” she said.
“You’re
the one who wanted to go to the party. No one is making you do it.”

I wiped my nose on my sweater sleeve.

“Yeah, only if I don’t go, I will be the
only one
in Room Nine,” I said. “And that is the saddest story I ever heard of.”

Daddy sat down next to me.

“Why?” he said. “Why is it sad to spend your Saturday the way
you
want to spend it? Why is it sad to spend the day having
fun,
instead of wasting it on a boy you don’t like?”

Mother sat down, too.

“That doesn’t sound sad to me,” said Mother. “That sounds
good,
in fact.”

“No, that does
not
sound good,” I said very snapping. “What is so good about being the
only one?”

Daddy did his shoulders up and down.

“Lots of things,” he said. “Like you’ll be the
only one
who doesn’t have to take a bath. Have you ever thought of that?”

“And you’ll be the
only one
who doesn’t have to wash her hair,” said Mother.

“And,”
said Daddy, “you’ll be the
only one
in Room Nine who doesn’t have to give Jim a present. How ’bout
that
one? Huh?”

I sat up a little bit straighter.

’Cause
that
one was excellent, that’s why.

Mother ruffled my hair.

“And what about Grampa Miller?” she asked. “You haven’t forgotten that he invited you to his house today, have you?”

Just then, my whole mouth came open.

’Cause I
did
forget about that!

“The toilet!” I said. “I forgot about the toilet! ’Cause me and Grampa were going to
fix that thing! And we were going to touch that big ball that floats on top!”

Mother made a face.

“Lovely,” she said.

“I
know
it is lovely,” I said. “And so I have to get over there right now. Or else Grandma is gonna get to touch it, and not me.”

Then Mother looked at me very strange.

And Daddy went to get his keys.

Mother and Daddy made me take the tool belt back to the store.

They made me give it to the man.

“Here,” I said. “I cannot be trusted with this wonderful thing.”

The man smiled kind of sad.

“Sorry, sis,” he said.

“That’s okay,” I said. “’Cause the nails
didn’t actually work that good.”

He gave me my money back.

“Maybe when you’re older,” he said.

“Maybe,” I said. “Plus also I might get a toilet brush.”

After the store, I went to my Grampa Miller’s.

He was working in his garden.

I ran my fastest at him.

“GRAMPA MILLER! HEY, GRAMPA MILLER! DID YOU FIX IT YET? DID YOU ALREADY FIX THE TOILET?”

He twirled me around.

“Not yet!” he said. “Not yet I didn’t! I’ve been waitin’ for you!”

And so just then, me and him hurried up. And we got our tools. And runned upstairs.

Then we took the lid right off that thing!

And I flushed all the water right out of it!

And I touched the big ball!

“This is fun! Right, Grampa? Right?
This is the time of our life!” I said.

“Sure it is! Of course it is!” said my grampa Frank Miller.

I laughed very happy.

“Hey, Grampa. Guess what? I am the
only one!”
I said.

He looked confused at me.

“I am the
only one
in Room Nine who is fixin’ a toilet!” I explained.

Then Grampa Miller laughed, too. “You’re really somethin’,” he said.

“You’re really somethin’, too, Grampa,” I said back.

Then I hugged him real tight.

And I climbed up on his lap.

And I told him a secret in his ear.

“And guess what else?” I whispered. “I still would like a goat.”