Super Emma Read online

  A SupeR CHaLLeNge for Emma …

  “Hey, dummy,” Jared says to me. Stanley, EllRay, and Corey are standing behind him like a small flock of silly sheep.

  Well, one good thing—at least Jared’s not calling me “Super Emma.” I try to swallow my bite of sandwich. Across from me, Annie Pat is goggling.

  Jared is scowling, probably because I have not said anything back to him. “You think you’re so great, don’t you?” he asks me. “Little Emma-Wemma, the perfect girl.”

  “I don’t think I’m so great,” I say. I can hear my own heart beating, wuh, wuh, wuh.

  “You’re going to be sorry, Super Emma,” he says again, leaning toward me and keeping his voice low. “I’m going to get even with you tomorrow at recess, when everyone on the playground is watching. Everyone!”

  Books by Sally Warner

  A Long Time Ago Today

  Best Friend Emma

  Not-So-Weird Emma

  Only Emma

  Super Emma

  This Isn’t About the Money

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Young Readers Group, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)

  Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)

  Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd. 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi - 110 017, India

  Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Registered Offices: Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published in the United States of America by Viking, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2006

  Published by Puffin Books, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2008

  3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4

  Text copyright © Sally Warner, 2006

  Illustrations copyright © Jamie Harper, 2006

  All rights reserved

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA IS AVAILABLE

  EISBN: 9781101567616

  Printed in the United States of America

  Set in Bitstream Carmina

  Book design by Nancy Brennan

  Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  For Joe Martin, my main (super) man

  in Madison, Wisconsin — S.W.

  For Gonna—J.H.

  Contents

  1

  For No Reason

  2

  A Hero

  3

  For No Reason!

  4

  Super Emma

  5

  For No Reason?

  6

  Pickle

  7

  For No Reason

  8

  Trash

  9

  For No Reason!

  10

  A Wish

  1

  for No Reason

  “Let me see that, stupid,” Jared Matthews says to EllRay Jakes. “Give it here.” If Jared were a lion, he would be growling right now. His twirly brown hair even looks a little like a lion’s mane, if you squint your eyes.

  But that’s not fair to lions, one of my favorite animals.

  “My name’s not ‘Stupid,’ stupid, it’s EllRay,” EllRay tells him, trying to be brave. But he hands over the plastic figure he was playing with to Jared, who grabs it and starts twisting the movable arms back and forth. “Don’t break the wings,” EllRay says in a loud and nervous voice.

  I have said it before: EllRay is small in size but large in noise. He is the first littlest kid in the third grade, and I am the second littlest. Also, I am the second shyest, after Fiona.

  I don’t like to hear EllRay sound scared. I think he’s pretty cool, but that’s a secret.

  “I’ll break the wings if I want to, Lancelot,” Jared says.

  Lancelot!

  See, I think the trouble started this morning when we had this substitute teacher, Mrs. Matheson. She’s short and wide, and she was wearing an orange dress that made her look like a big chunk of supermarket cheese.

  Well, she still is. Wearing the dress, I mean.

  Anyway, she called EllRay by his real name. She said, “Lancelot Raymond Jakes?” while she was taking roll. And I guess EllRay’s name was supposed to be a secret, because he never said it out loud before.

  A lot of kids laughed when the substitute called his name, but Jared Matthews laughed the loudest: “Haw, haw, haw.” He is the biggest kid in our third-grade class, and he is not very nice.

  “My name is EllRay,” EllRay shouted politely to Mrs. Matheson, but it was too late—the damage was done. Now, everyone in class knows that EllRay is probably short for L-period-Ray, which is probably short for Lancelot Raymond.

  Some people’s mothers and fathers should be more careful when they name a baby, that’s what I think.

  Jared pinches the toy’s purple wing, which is webbed like a bat’s. It is as if he is holding a teacup he is about to smash on the ground. He looks at EllRay, just daring him to say something. And Jared is smiling a little. “I think wings look dumb on action figures,” he says to EllRay.

  EllRay’s eyes get big. He looks scared—or at least very wide awake.

  Wide awake is a good way to look in our class, especially after lunch on a warm California day. It is very easy to fall asleep then, even if you pretend that you are only reading up close. And doing that just makes me sleepier than ever, which is why we get a recess like this in the afternoon—to run around and breathe some fresh air, in other words.

  Oh, that reminds me! This boy Corey Robinson, who sits next to me, really fell all the way asleep in class last week. He even drooled on his book, which is official school property. I felt sorry for him, but it was kind of funny.

  It was especially funny when Ms. Sanchez, who is our regular teacher, glided up behind him and pinched him on his hot red ear. Even though it was a gentle pinch, Corey squawked like a stepped-on cat, and he rose straight up into the air as if his chair was a giant slingshot that had decided to see how far Corey and his floppy green hair would go.

  The answer was—pretty far!

  In case you are wondering, Corey is not an outer-space alien, even though he has green hair. He is training to be a swimming champion, which is another classroom secret, but he told me about it once. Anyway, Corey swims a lot, and sometimes the chlorine in the pool turns his whitey-blond hair green.

  He always smells very clean, though, and I think he is going to be in the Olympics someday.

  You have to start early for that.

  During EllRay’s fight with Jared, Corey is standing behind EllRay, and a bunch of girls stand beside Corey, including me. Corey is moving from foot to foot as if the Oak Glen Primary School playground is as hot as a barbecue grill. He is glaring at large, mean Jared, but he doesn’t actually s
ay anything.

  Corey and EllRay are friends. Well, those two guys are friends with Jared, too, usually. The weird part about this fight, and about most fights between boys, I have noticed, is that it was probably for no reason. That’s why lots of things happen at this school.

  “Give it back,” EllRay yells, holding out his hand. Next to me, my new friend Annie Pat makes a worried noise in the back of her throat. I try to touch her arm to calm her down, but I can’t stop looking at EllRay and Jared. I’m afraid I’ll fall over or something if I try to do too many things at once.

  My stomach is starting to feel all jangly, as though the tuna in the sandwich I ate for lunch has started swimming around in there. Digesting my lunch might be trying to do one too many things, it suddenly occurs to me.

  I hope I’m wrong about that, because barfing at school is the second worst thing that can happen to a kid.

  “Make me give it back,” Jared says calmly, as if nothing bad is happening. As if this is just an ordinary day.

  EllRay takes a step forward. “I will make you give it back,” he says in a shaky voice. “I’ll—I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Jared asks, sneering. “You’ll tell the teacher on me?” He holds the figure tighter, smiles, and starts to bend the wing.

  Everybody’s breath gets sucked in at once. It sounds as though the wind is blowing by.

  “No-o-o-o!” EllRay howls.

  “Oh, oh,” Heather echoes. That’s her favorite expression.

  Suddenly, from out of nowhere, someone jumps out of the crowd and grabs the toy—right out of Jared Matthews’s hand. “Quit it, you big bully,” that person yells.

  Hey, it’s me! Emma McGraw!

  2

  a Hero

  I must be the most surprised person in the world right now, because I am not exactly brave. I like peace and quiet too much for that.

  But no, Jared is even more surprised than I am. He staggers back, and his jaw hangs open like a panting lizard’s on a very hot day. He stares down at his hand as though he can’t really believe it is empty.

  I shove the toy in EllRay’s direction.

  “She saved EllRay,” someone whispers. “Emma saved EllRay—from Jared!”

  “I only saved his toy,” I try to say, but the words get stuck in my throat when I see EllRay’s face.

  He doesn’t look grateful, not one little bit.

  “Ha-ha on Jared,” one of the kids calls out.

  “Rah-h-h-h,” Jared roars, and he starts chasing that kid across the playground. He doesn’t even look at me as he whizzes by.

  “Emma, you’re a hero,” Annie Pat says to me, and she sounds awed. The afternoon sun shining behind her makes her curly red pigtails look as though they are on fire.

  I clear my throat and sneak another look at EllRay Jakes. He is just standing there, and the action figure is drooping in his hand. “I’m not a hero,” I say. “I only—”

  “You only ruined everything,” EllRay says. “Thanks a lot, Emma.”

  The way he says “Thanks,” though, you can tell he doesn’t mean it. He is mad at me, all right. But why?

  EllRay and I stand very still for a second, staring at each other.

  When the bell rings, it is as if it breaks a magic spell. The two of us can move again.

  I never thought I would be so glad to get back to class, especially when we have a substitute teacher. Because when we have a substitute, the bad kids act up, and the good kids act nervous.

  And if you’re a good kid, which I usually am, what’s so fun about that?

  3

  for No Reason!

  I am an only child, and that is not such a wonderful thing when you have an important question to ask an older brother or sister. A question such as this: “Why is EllRay Jakes so mad at me?”

  My mom says that I can ask her anything, but sometimes I don’t want to, because she gets worried when things aren’t going perfectly right for me. So I keep pretty quiet most of the time.

  But I have to ask her this one question. “Mom? Ow.”

  “Hold still, Emma,” Mom says, holding on to a wet tangled hunk of my hair, which is long and brown. It smells like a mixture of apples and roses after I wash it. Mom is trying to work the comb through my hair.

  “Ow,” I remind her.

  “This doesn’t hurt,” Mom informs me. “See,” she says, “I’m holding it.” Mom claims that if you pinch hair, you can comb the ends without it hurting. Luckily, hair doesn’t feel pinches.

  “Yes, but it might start hurting,” I remind her. “Mom?” I try again.

  “I’m still here,” my mom says, moving her hands to another part of my head.

  “Ow. Um, guess what happened during afternoon recess today?”

  My mom stops combing. “What?” she asks. She already sounds concerned.

  See, that’s the trouble about not talking very much about school. When you do talk, your mother listens too hard. I shake my head a little to remind her about the combing. “Well,” I begin, “these two boys were having a fight.” I peek up at her.

  Mom’s eyes get big and shiny. “A fight? What two boys?”

  “No, wait, that’s not the important part,” I tell her. “Ow.”

  “What is the important part?” Mom asks. She tries to shove one of her sleeves up without letting go of my hair. She wiggles her nose as if it itches.

  I sigh. “Well, the important part is that I was the one who made them stop fighting,” I say. I leave out the part about me upsetting the boy-girl ecology of my entire class.

  Mom stops combing again and pulls back a little. She looks at me as if she is watching The Emma Channel with all her might. “Good for you, Emma,” she says, smiling. “I’m proud of you, honey.”

  “Well, don’t be,” I tell her gloomily, “because now some kids hate me.”

  Mom scowls. “What kids?” she asks. She can be like a mother bear who wants to bite anyone who bothers her cub. I’ve seen it before, on Animal Planet.

  I’m her cub, and that’s another reason I don’t tell her stuff, sometimes.

  “It was Jared and EllRay,” I say. “Jared took EllRay’s toy during recess and then called him a name.”

  “A bad name?” Mom asks.

  I think for a second. “Kind of,” I finally say. “But it was actually EllRay’s own real name.”

  Mom tilts her head. “Which is?” she asks, obviously expecting me to tell her EllRay’s real name.

  “Lancelot Raymond,” I whisper. “We had a substitute, and she gave it away.”

  Now Mom shakes her head and smiles. “Poor EllRay,” she says. “But how did you get involved, Emma? I just can’t picture it.”

  “Me either,” I admit, “but—I guess I jumped right in the middle of the fight and rescued EllRay’s toy, then I gave it to him. He was scared of Jared, and I hated seeing that.”

  My mom scoops me into a hug and ruffles my wet hair. “I’m proud of you,” she says again, whispering the words into my ear. It tickles.

  “But I wasn’t being brave,” I tell her. “I didn’t even think before I did it.”

  Mom gives me an extra squeeze. “Well,” she says, “I can see how Jared might be a little bit irked, being shown up by a girl that way, but who else is angry with you?”

  “EllRay is,” I say, and I make a face to hide the way I feel—which is sad.

  “Oh, dear.”

  “For no reason!”

  “I have to say I’m not surprised,” Mom says.

  “But why?” I ask her.

  Mom shrugs. “Maybe it’s because he feels bad that he couldn’t stick up for himself.”

  “But he probably would have,” I say, “if I hadn’t jumped in and done it first.”

  My mom stands up and stretches. “I think maybe you embarrassed EllRay a little, that’s all. He’ll get over it.”

  “But should I tell him I’m sorry?” I ask. I fiddle with my pajama top, which is all cold and wet around the neck, thanks to my
hair.

  “Are you sorry?”

  “Yeah, I am. If I really embarrassed him, I mean. But I’m not sorry I made Jared look dumb in front of all those people. He’s so mean to everyone!”

  Mom plugs in the hair dryer. “Well, that’s another problem for another day,” she tells me.

  Whnn-n-n. … The dryer starts its horrible noisy whine, which always hurts my ears, even though my mom doesn’t believe it when I tell her that. Hair dryers are not good for peace and quiet, that’s for sure. And they always smell funny, as if one little hair is burning somewhere inside them. “Ow,” I say.

  “Emma, for heaven’s sake. I’m not even touching you yet.”

  “Oops—sorry,” I mumble. “But tell me when you start, okay? So I can say ‘Ow’ again?”

  And Mom just laughs.

  4

  Super Emma

  Corey looks at me sideways the next morning when I take my seat. “You’re late,” he whispers. “I thought maybe you weren’t coming to school today.” A lock of hair flops onto his sunburned forehead.

  “My mom’s car wouldn’t start, that’s all,” I tell him. Ms. Sanchez is back in class again, thank goodness, but she is busy at her desk looking at some papers. She hasn’t taken roll yet. “Why wouldn’t I come to school?” I ask Corey, keeping my voice low.

  “You know,” he says, blushing a little around his freckles.

  And then Ms. Sanchez starts calling our names for attendance.

  I can feel my own face getting hot as she says our names. “You know”? What’s that supposed to mean?

  But I can’t ask Corey that out loud.

  “EllRay Jakes,” Ms. Sanchez calls out after a few names, and a couple of kids wriggle and snicker at the sound of his name. You can hear someone whisper, “Lancelot, Lancelot.” Ms. Sanchez pauses and looks up from her roll sheet.