Copyright
Copyright © 2010 by Lauren Barnholdt
Cover and internal design © 2010 by Sourcebooks, Inc.
Cover and internal illustrations © 2010 by Suzanne Beaky
Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Barnholdt, Lauren.
Hailey Twitch is not a snitch / by Lauren Barnholdt and Suzanne Beaky.
p. cm.
Summary: Second-grader Hailey’s frustration over a school project releases Maybelle, a sprite whose punishment for being a rulemonger will end when she grants Hailey’s wish to have fun, but Maybelle’s efforts only seem to cause trouble.
(pbk. : alk. paper) [1. Rules (Philosophy)—Fiction. 2. Fairies—Fiction. 3. Schools—Fiction. 4. Family life—Massachusetts—Fiction. 5. Massachusetts—Fiction.] I. Beaky, Suzanne ill. II. Title.
PZ7.B2667Hai 2010
[Fic]—dc22
2009049937
Source of Production: Versa Press, East Peoria, Illinois, USA
Date of Production: May 2010
Run Number: 12348
Table of Contents
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Illustrator
Back Cover
Dedication
For my agent, Alyssa Eisner Henkin, who never once even thought about giving up on this book
Chapter One
French Fries
Addie Jokobeck sits next to me in Miss Stephanie’s second grade class. Right now she is moving her pencil up and down and across while we practice our words that begin with T. Her pencil is just plain blue. It does not have glitter on it. Or feathers. Or sparkles. Like mine. That’s ’cause Addie Jokobeck thinks glitter and feathers and sparkles make your printing wobbly.
“Hailey,” Addie whispers. “I think you should be keeping your eyes on your own paper.” She smiles at me. Addie Jokobeck is really in love with rules.
“Class,” Miss Stephanie says from her big desk at the front of the room. “I have a special announcement.” I sit up and pay attention. I love special announcements, as long as they are not: “Hailey Twitch, please keep your eyes right on your own paper.”
“We are going to be doing a special project,” Miss Stephanie says. “For School Diversity Week, you will each be making food from a different country, and dressing up as a person from that country. Your parents will be helping you, and you will be working with a partner.”
Partners! I love to work in partners! It is like half the work with twice the fun! I quickly look to the front of the room for Antonio Fuerte. Antonio is from Mexico. He told me it is very hot and beautiful there. I try to catch his eye by wiggling my eyebrows up and down and giving him a look. The look says, “Me and you will be partners.” My second choice for a partner is my friend Russ Robertson. This is because Russ is very easy to boss. I try to give Russ that same look.
But then Miss Stephanie says, “You will be partners with the person you sit next to in class.”
Miss Stephanie is a very good teacher. She has long blond hair and wears lots of dress-up pants. But she is not very good when she is telling me I am going to be partners with Addie Jokobeck who is really in love with rules.
Addie Jokobeck gives me a big wide smile, so big that I can see the space of her one missing tooth on the top.
I raise my hand. “Maybe we should pick our own partners,” I say. “That might be fun.”
“No,” Miss Stephanie says. Then Miss Stephanie says that me and Addie Jokobeck will be doing the country of France.
“Oooh, I love France,” Addie says. “That’s where French fries come from.”
“My grandma has a French poodle,” I tell her. “It’s a girl dog, but she named it Stewart after my grandpa. It still goes to the bathroom a lot on her rug, even though she’s had it for five whole years.” Addie looks shocked. “France is not as exciting as Mexico,” I say. “It is very boring in France, I think, if the best thing they have there is French fries.”
On the way out of school, the meanest girl in room four, Natalie Brice, twirls around and says, “I am partners with Antonio.”
“That’s nice,” I say. Natalie Brice is not my friend because she thinks she is the boss of me. Being the boss of someone means that you are in charge of them. It means if you want them to do something you say, “You are going to do this right now,” and they say, “Okay.”
“Who is your partner?” Natalie wants to know, even though she already knows the answer to that question.
“Addie Jokobeck, and we are doing France.” And then I decide to tell Natalie something else. “We are going to make something very good for our food, like a very delicious dessert with lots of whipped cream out of the can that we will be allowed to squirt as much as we want.”
“I think maybe we should make some French fries,” Addie Jokobeck says, popping up behind us.
“No,” I say, very bossy. “We are making a dessert.”
“We are doing Mexico,” Natalie Brice tells me. “Only me and Antonio say it like this—Meh-i-co. I might even take a trip there with him.”
“Me and Hailey say France like France,” Addie says.
And Natalie Brice rolls her eyes and runs to walk to the bus with Antonio Fuerte.
Chapter Two
Ms. Maybelle Sinclair
When I get home, I am feeling very upset about all this. I stomp inside to the kitchen.
“Hello, Hailey,” my mom says. Her hair is in a ponytail, and she is stirring a big pot of spaghetti sauce on the stove. The whole house smells like warm and yummy tomatoes. But it is not enough to cheer me up. “Why are you stomping?”
“Because,” I say. “I am very upset.” I sit down at the kitchen table.
“About what?”
“Today at school we got put in partners and I have to be with Addie Jokobeck.” I show my mom the paper Miss Stephanie sent home with us.
“This looks fun,” she says.
“It is supposed to be fun,” I say. “If you are doing it with someone fun like Antonio, or with someone like your best friend, Russ. Not if you are doing it with Addie Jokobeck.” I do not tell my mom that Addie Jokobeck is not fun and that maybe Antonio is going to have so much fun with Natalie making Mexican food that he will forget all about me and our plan to dig a hole all the way to A
ntarctica. And that maybe Addie is going to ruin the whole thing by making plain old French fries.
“I’m sure Addie will be a great partner,” my mom says.
“I am cranky,” I tell her. “And I would like to go up to my room, please.” When I get cranky, I am supposed to tell people so they will leave me alone until I don’t feel cranky anymore. When I forget, I end up having a tantrum or a fit.
A tantrum is when you make a big scene and have a bad temper. Usually I have them when someone is trying to be the boss of me. It starts out by feeling very, very cranky, and then it will keep getting worse and worse until I get my way. A lot of times, I will end up maybe yelling and screaming, or stomping so that my feet make very loud, angry noises. I might even throw myself on the floor and lie on my back, or maybe hide in some racks of clothes if we are in the mall.
“Okay, Hailey,” my mom says. “Thank you for telling me you are cranky.” She nods and goes back to stirring the sauce, and I go right up the stairs and into my room.
This is not fair! I want to be partners with Antonio because he has black hair and black eyes and on Family Heritage Day he did a special Mexican dance and even taught me how to do it, too. I want to stomp all around my room but I can’t because I know my mom will hear me and say, “Hailey, please stop all that stomping around,” so instead I go over to my magic castle dollhouse to play—but then I remember that I lost the queen doll who lives in there one time when Russ and I were giving her an operation.
So I pull out the doll of the princess instead.
“I wish I was a princess,” I say to her. “And then I would not have to go to Addie Jokobeck’s because princesses are very rich and get to have anything that they want.” I know this because, one time, I heard my dad say that money can buy you out of anything. I bet money could buy you right out of a bad partner at school and right into a special partner like Antonio Fuerte. “And then I would be able to have fun, fun, fun, FUN, FUN!”
I decide to put that princess doll back into the magic castle and then go over to my bed and spend some time feeling sorry for myself.
But suddenly, something comes flying out of that castle!
It whooshes right out of one of the castle windows and there is a bright, bright, bright flash of light and then something soft, soft, soft brushes against my cheek. I push it out of the way, but it brushes against me again. And then something that feels like wind is going all through my room! And it pushes me down, down, down to the ground and when I get back up, there is a little person, flying in front of me!
She has sparkly yellow hair and light purple wings and big blue eyes.
“Hello,” she says.
Plunk. I am so shocked that I fall right back down onto the floor.
“Oh, no!” the person says. “Are you okay?” And then she flies down to the ground and is looking right at me. “Did you get hurt? Are you bleeding? Oh, I am so, so sorry!” She looks like maybe she is very sorry, too. Not pretend-sorry like sometimes I am when I get into a fight with Natalie Brice.
“I’m…I’m—” I cannot find my voice. It feels like I am trying to talk with a big mouthful of peanut butter sandwich before I’ve had any milk. My heart is beating very fast in my chest, and I wave my hand through the air, checking for strings from the ceiling that could be holding her up, like maybe it’s a trick that my sister, Kaitlyn, is playing on me. But there are no strings. “I’m okay,” I say finally.
“Good,” the person says. She pats my shoulder. “I think you’re probably just a little clumsy.” She flies up a little bit in the air, and I stand up, so that we are both at the same level. “My name is Ms. Maybelle Sinclair,” she says. She is very small, like maybe as tall as a foot. “And I am a sprite that has come to live with you and bring you some fun!” Maybelle Sinclair holds out her suitcase. “Now where should I put this?” she asks. “You could offer to take it from me. Don’t they teach manners here in Massachusetts?”
“Of course I know about manners,” I say. We learned all about manners and being polite last year in first grade. Manners that I am good at are bringing my dishes to the sink and being a neat eater. Manners that I am not good at are knocking before going into people’s rooms, and not using people’s things without asking. Like my sister Kaitlyn’s special apple shampoo that can be used as a very bubbly bubble bath. But I am working on it.
“I am Hailey Twitch, and I am pleased to meet you.” I put my hand out and wait for a shake.
“That’s a little better,” Maybelle says. “Because honestly, you really should—” Then she stops talking and gets a very upset sort of look on her face. “Oh no, no, no!” she cries. THUNK. She drops her suitcase on the floor. “There I go, at it again!”
“There you go at what again?” I ask. I sit down on my bed and wait for her to explain. I learned all about patience in first grade, too. It is another thing I am working on.
“Being a rule monger!” Maybelle Sinclair exclaims in a sad voice. She starts zooming all around the room, her long green dress flying out behind her in a long line. She is flying so fast that she almost knocks my whole dollhouse over.
“What is a rule monger?” I ask. I sniff, sniff, sniff the air as she flies by. Something doesn’t smell so good in here. I wonder if Maybelle has had a bath anytime soon.
“It’s someone who is a stickler for rules,” Maybelle says. She sighs and then settles down next to me on my bedside table. “Someone who just cannot ever even think about breaking rules and wants to do chores. All. The. Time.”
“Ohhh,” I say wisely. “I know all about a rule monger named Addie Jokobeck.” Maybelle raises her sparkly little eyebrows. “She doesn’t like glitter pencils,” I explain.
“Yes, well, I am not supposed to be a rule monger, because that is how I ended up STUCK IN THAT DOLLHOUSE IN THE FIRST PLACE!”
“Let’s use our indoor voices, please,” I say, covering my ears.
“I’m sorry,” she says. She flies around for a second and then sits down next to me on the bed. “It’s just that I’ve been trying for so long to get out of there. And now I finally am, and I have to remember that I am not going back.” She bites her bottom lip. “You see, I am not a very good sprite. I made all the princesses in the castle do their own chores, and I never let them have any fun.” She looks very, very, very upset. And then her bottom lip starts to shake, like maybe she might even start crying! “And so Mr. Tuttle, he…he took my magic away and made me live in that dollhouse.”
“Is Mr. Tuttle the principal?” I ask. Principals are really not very fun or funny. Mine is named Mr. Jenner and he is very scary with a bushy brown mustache and big gray shoes.
“No,” she says. “He…he runs the Department of Magic.” Maybelle looks very scared.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “You don’t have to be scared.” I give her a little pat on the back. Then I go and get her some water in my bathroom cup and wait while she takes a long drink. I have to hold the cup for her, of course, because she is too, too, too small to hold it for herself.
“Thank you,” Maybelle says when she’s finished her drink. “But you don’t understand. I have to prove to Mr. Tuttle that I can be fun. Otherwise, I will never get my magic back.” Hmmmm. She does not look very fun, with her long dark, dark, dark green dress with long sleeves. Colors that are fun are pink and purple and orange. Not dark, dark, dark green. But her eyelashes are very sparkly, so maybe there is hope for her yet.
“Okay,” I say slowly. I am not so sure about this. “How long have you been in there anyway?”
“I had to wait to get out until someone was really wishing for fun.” Maybelle looks at me. “And that has not happened for over two hundred years.”
“YOU’VE BEEN IN THAT MAGIC CASTLE DOLLHOUSE FOR TWO HUNDRED WHOLE YEARS?” I yell. Two hundred whole years!! That is longer than anything I’ve ever heard of even.
“Hailey!” my mo
m yells from downstairs. “What is going on up there, please?”
“Oh, nothing,” I yell back. “Just up here thinking about how not to be cranky.”
I wait until I hear my mom go back to the kitchen. Then I decide to be quiet as a mouse.
“You’ve been in that castle for two hundred whole years?” I whisper very softly.
“Yes,” Maybelle says. But Maybelle seems like maybe she doesn’t want to talk about that, like when I don’t want to talk about certain things, like when something happened last year involving a snowball fight that I didn’t even start. “Now, how can I help you have fun?”
I go and pick up Maybelle’s suitcase from where she dropped it on the floor. I’m not exactly sure what to do with it, so finally I put it under my bed. Maybe that’s where Maybelle will live! Right under my bed! Kind of like a monster. Even though, of course, I know there is no such thing as monsters under the bed.
Then I lean back on my bed and tap on my chin with one finger. I think very, very hard about something fun. And then I say, “Well, there is one thing.”
“What is it?” Maybelle reaches into the pocket of her dress and pulls out a teeny tiny black notebook.
“I want to be partners with Antonio Fuerte for our project on all the countries.”
Maybelle squishes up her gorgeous sparkly eyebrows. “He is doing Mexico,” I explain. “And his grandparents live there on a big ranch with chickens.” She does not look so sure. “Mexico is very, very fun.” She still doesn’t look so sure. So finally I say, “If I am not partners with Antonio, I will have to be with Addie Jokobeck and make stupid dumb French fries that people eat every single dumb day.”
“Okay.” Maybelle Sinclair writes something down in her notebook. I try to read it. But she is covering it with her hand, the same way Addie Jokobeck does when we are taking our spelling tests.
“You are fabulous,” I say, clapping my hands. “You can write in cursive and you are not scary at all. And I think I would like to tell my sister about you, please.” I take a big deep breath and get ready to scream for Kaitlyn. My mom does not like it when we scream for each other, but this is an exception.