Polly Diamond and the Magic Spell

  For my daughter, Lola, with all my love. A. K.

  For my parents, because they always made room for more books in our tiny home. D. T.

  The author would like to thank Karen

  for her help and encouragement, and Ayden for

  the inspiration. Thank you, thank you.

  Text copyright © 2018 by Alice Kuipers.

  Illustrations copyright © 2018 by Diana Toledano.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available.

  ISBN 978-1-4521-5232-5 (Hardcover)

  ISBN 978-1-4521-5272-1 (epub)

  Design by Sara Gillingham Studio.

  Typeset in Chaparral and Nouveau Crayon.

  Chronicle Books LLC

  680 Second Street

  San Francisco, California 94107

  Chronicle Books—we see things differently. Become part of our community at www.chroniclekids.com.

  ONE

  Today something amazing is going to happen.

  Amazing things always happen in threes.

  Day One: On Friday, my teacher, Ms. Hairball, told me my color poem was fantastic.

  Day Two: On Saturday, my pet rock, Stoneface, smiled at me. I saw him! I swear!

  Today is Sunday. Day Three.

  So yes. Today is going to be amazing. Super-fantastic. I start a list on a blank sheet of paper. I love writing lists.

  To-Do List for a Super-Fantastic Day

  BY POLLY DIAMOND

  · Write a story

  · Paint my bedroom

  · Discover a secret treasure

  · Travel somewhere no one has ever been

  More than writing lists, I love writing stories.

  A Story About a Perfect House

  BY POLLY DIAMOND

  My house is too teeny. My parents say it’s cozy. But it’s NOT. Our house is stuffed full. Our house probably feels like it has eaten too much food!

  AND we have a new baby coming any day. When he comes, the house will be even more stuffed.

  Mom says Anna and I have to share a room now.

  So we have a room for the baby. Yuck.

  We need a bigger house. We need lots of rooms. A perfect house would—

  I hear a drumroll and a trumpet blast at the front door.

  Everyone says I’m imaginative. But I definitely heard a drumroll and a trumpet blast.

  Maybe it’s a caterpillar army on the march.

  Or a hedgehog band.

  Or an armadillo performing a circus trick. Yes, that’s it. An armadillo.

  I run to open the door.

  It’s WAY BETTER than an armadillo. It’s a package!

  I pick it up. It’s hard, thin, and flat. It’s wrapped in pretty polka-dot paper. In the corner a gold stamp reads: Special Delivery from the Writing and Spelling Department. Below that, in letters as bubbly as clouds, it says:

  FOR POLLY DIAMOND

  My heart skips rope. I rip open the wrapping. Inside is a turquoise leather book. Turquoise! The best! My glasses are turquoise. My sneakers are turquoise. My favorite pen is turquoise. Also, not everyone can spell TURQUOISE. But I can. I love words that are hard to spell.

  I open the book.

  A WRITING AND SPELLING BOOK FOR POLLY DIAMOND

  I wish my writing looked like that. Mine is as messy as my bedroom.

  I flip through the rest of the book. All the other pages are blank.

  Back in the kitchen I hunt for my pen. I’m always looking for my stuff! I wonder if sometimes my things scurry around the house like busy mice.

  Where is my pen? A-HA!

  I slide it from behind my ear.

  As I write, I try to make my letters as neat as possible:

  This book belongs to Polly Diamond.

  Whoa! A bizarre, baffling thing happens. Under my name, a tiny black dot pops onto the page.

  Slowly, the dot moves. All by itself.

  It becomes the letter H.

  I touch it. As I take away my finger, another letter appears.

  An E.

  An L is next.

  Then another L.

  Then an O.

  Then, like a sprinter rushing to finish the race, it spells my name followed by an exclamation mark!

  HELLO, Polly Diamond!

  The book is writing back to me!

  TWO

  “Polly?” Mom calls from upstairs. “Could you come and help Anna?”

  I hear Anna yell, “No! No! No!” She is three and a half.

  “In one teeny minute,” I yell back. I run my finger over the words: HELLO, Polly Diamond!

  The book writes: Stop! That tickles!

  I’m woozy (woozy is one of my favorite words. I love words with double letters in them). I’m dizzy (double zz!)! I wonder if I might faint.

  I’ve always wondered what fainting would feel like.

  But I don’t faint. Instead, I write: How do you do that?

  Do what?

  Write back to me. I’m a writing and spelling book. That’s what I do! Do you like to write, too?

  Everything! Stories! Lists!

  Like what?

  Like this:

  Top Names to Call My New Baby Brother

  · Darwin

  · Fernando

  · Gill

  · Edgar

  · Basil

  That’s my favorite so far. Basil. It’s the name of an herb and a person.

  I love words that mean more than one thing. But really, I love all words.

  I love words, too!

  Can you think of any more names?

  How about . . .

  Names NOT to Call Your New Baby Brother

  · Waldo

  · Nightmare

  · Rocket

  · Banana

  I giggle. I add:

  · Pilot

  · Galaxy

  · Honeybee

  The book writes:

  You need to think of a name for me, too!

  Why?

  It’s your job to give me a name!

  Really? Fantabulous!

  That’s not a word.

  No?

  “Polly, please!” Mom calls.

  “Sorry, coming!”

  I take my book with me. In the upstairs hallway, I leap over a roll of carpet. It’s like a giant sleeping snake. This is a simile—I learned about similes from Ms. Hairball. The carpet is not really a giant snake. It just looks a lot like one.

  I one-handed-cartwheel into Anna’s old room. It smells of new paint: Sunbeam Yellow.

  “Careful, Polly!” Mom cries.

  Dad comes in, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. He’s still in his PJs.

  “Hey, Polly D. I think your mom called you two thousand times.” His feet look like hairy gorilla feet. This is not a simile. He is wearing his gorilla slippers.

  “She called me twice,” I say.

  “She called you three billion times!” he jokes.

  “Anna, this is not your room anymore,” Mom says. Anna is jumping on the baby mattress on the floor. I can’t believe I have to share a room with her. I make a list in my head.

  Ways to Get Anna Out of My Bedroom

  · Tell her it’s haunted

  · Turn her into a pet rock

  · Put a lock on the door

  · Move her bed into a nearby river and watch it float away

  Dad started putting together our old crib yesterday. He hasn’t finished it. Bits of it are all over the floor. The curtains are on the floor, too. Along with a pile of new blue baby clothes that Granny sent.

  Having a contractor dad
means our house is ALWAYS under construction. When I was little, I thought his job was in DEstruction, not CONstruction, because he’s always taking apart something in our house.

  Mom rubs her huge tummy. I think about what the baby is doing in there. Maybe somersaults. Maybe he’ll be an acrobat.

  I imagine our family circus.

  · Dad—clown

  · Mom—ringmaster

  · Anna—dancer

  · Me—lion tamer

  Names for Our Family Circus

  · The Dazzling Diamonds

  · The Gem Stars

  · The Jumping Jewels

  Dad wiggles his huge gorilla feet. “Take Anna downstairs, Polly Poppet.”

  “But I want to show you my new book. It writes back to me!”

  Anna jumps over. “Can I see?”

  “No. Do NOT touch it.”

  “Why don’t you start making chocolate chip pancake batter?” Dad gently turns me toward the bedroom door. “I’ll be down to help in a minute. We can look at your book then. Okay?”

  “Yum! Okay. That’s a deal.”

  Downstairs, I pull out Granny’s recipe book. I love the smell of the old, yellow pages. I love her scribbled notes. I find her pancake recipe.

  I open our cupboard.

  Hmmm. We have no flour. But there is a can of baking powder. It looks exactly like flour. I dump the baking powder into a bowl. I crack one egg on top. I pick out the pieces of shell.

  I tip in a cup of milk and stir the mix, which fizzes a bit. Then—the best part—I pour in chocolate chips.

  Ta-da! Mmm! Maybe when I grow up, I can be a chef.

  “Welcome to Diamond’s Delicious Desserts,” I sing. I love words that all begin with the same letter: amazing alliterations. I whip open my new book and write:

  Polly Diamond’s New & Improved

  Chocolate Chip Pancakes:

  · One cup of baking powder

  · One egg

  · One cup of milk

  · Lots of chocolate chips

  · Rainbow sprinkles to decorate

  · A dollop of whipped cream

  Dad comes into the kitchen. There is milk all over the counter and egg gunk on the floor. Somehow, Anna has gotten hold of the syrup bottle. Dad’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wow, Polly, you sure went to town in here.”

  “It could be worse,” I say. “I didn’t spill any sprinkles.”

  “You clean up. I’ll cook.” He inspects the pancake mix. “Uh, Polly, did you follow the recipe?”

  “We have no flour,” I say. “I used baking powder instead.”

  “Baking-powder-tastic, Polly Parrot.” He scoops my mix into the garbage. “I’ll make it again.” He turns to the cupboard. “Uh, Polly, what’s this?”

  I frown because on the shelf there is a full cup of what looks like baking powder. But the can of baking powder I used is already out on the counter. Next to the baking powder on the shelf is a cup of milk. And a dollop of whipped cream. An egg rolls out and smashes on the floor. Chocolate chips and rainbow sprinkles are everywhere. Dad rubs his forehead as Mom waddles in like a penguin.

  “Miss made a mess,” Dad says to her. “Don’t worry, love. We’re just about to clean up.”

  “Refusing to worry. Refusing to look,” Mom says, keeping her gaze on the ceiling. “Oh, no, I looked. I’m leaving right now.”

  “Sorry, Mom,” I say. Sorry is always a useful word when Mom is frowning. I kiss Mom goodbye. I kiss Mom’s huge tummy, too. “Bye, baby. I definitely think we should call you Gill. Or Basil. Basil is the top name on my list. It means an herb AND—”

  “—a person’s name! I know,” Mom finishes.

  She kisses the top of my head, then kisses the tip of my nose. She heads out the door.

  I turn to Dad. “Can we do my bedroom today?”

  “My bedroom!” Anna yells.

  “If you clean up some of your stuff so I can reach the walls,” Dad suggests. “Then we can paint. But first let’s start in here.”

  I give him a huge hug. Then I begin to wipe up the mysterious messy mess in the cupboard.

  THREE

  After breakfast, Dad makes a work call. It takes a thousand years. I decide to help him out. I’ve seen Dad paint hundreds of times. I find the two cans of paint in the upstairs closet. Along with rollers. And trays. But no ladder. I won’t be able to reach the top of my walls.

  The paint cans are HEAVY. I struggle along the walkway. I stumble over the roll of carpet. In my room, I heave the paint cans over the books that are stacked everywhere. I own three books about writing. And lots of storybooks.

  My Favorite Books

  · Ivy and Bean

  · Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone

  · The Doll People

  · When Birds Could Talk & Bats Could Sing

  · Juana & Lucas

  · Captain Underpants

  I also have a library card. I borrow books about magic and faraway places and deep-sea diving. Maybe I will be a real-life treasure hunter one day.

  I stare at Anna’s side of the room. Anna’s pink dollhouse.

  Anna’s huge, pink stuffed unicorn.

  Anna’s pile of pink ruffled dresses.

  Too. Much. Pink.

  I can’t believe I have to share a room with The Sparkle Princess.

  But never mind. Time to get to work.

  I need to move the furniture first. I push both beds away from the walls. I shove our toys and clothes into a mountain on top of them. I throw our quilts over everything to protect our things from paint spills. Then I take down photos of my friends and my artwork and shove them under the beds. Dad will be so pleased!

  I take a break and flop onto my bed with my book. I write:

  A Painting Adventure

  BY POLLY DIAMOND

  I like the title!

  Thanks! It’s a story about painting my room Aquarium Blue.

  That’s the name of the paint? Paint gets a name?

  All sorts of names. Like Plum Crazy or Go Mango.

  Go Mango is not a real paint name! I bet I can think of sillier names for paint:

  · Muddy Pond

  · Lunch Bag

  · Don’t Lilac to Me

  I think for a minute. Then I write:

  · Fungus Among Us

  · Baboon Butt?

  I burst out laughing.

  Then, I write: Oh, I have an idea for a story . . .

  Painting Day

  BY POLLY DIAMOND

  Today is a painting day. I have paint and a brush and I’m going to pile up the stacks of books in my room like a ladder so I can reach the high spots. When I—

  A weird creaking comes from my floor. I look up. My books are drifting like small ships up from the rug. Then they hover, one above the other, creating steps between them—like a ladder.

  My mouth drops open. I slide off my bed.

  It’s astonishing. It’s astounding. It’s astronomical!

  I grab my new book and write:

  How did that happen???

  That’s what I do!

  I flip to the recipe I wrote. A brilliant idea jiggles in my mind. I remember the piles of chocolate chips in the kitchen cupboard. My new book made them appear! And the milk. And the sprinkles. Because of the words I wrote.

  This is awesome! I’m so gonna use this ladder to paint my room right now!

  I toss my new book onto my bed. I open a paint can with Dad’s screwdriver. Then I stir the paint with a ruler and I dip in a brush. I slosh paint over my fingers.

  I test the book ladder with the tip of my toe. When I push my foot down, the book dips just a little. I put a little more weight on it. The book dips a tiny bit more, but holds steady. I step onto it. It is very wobbly. I accidentally splosh paint on Anna’s pink ballerina quilt.

  Then an idea bursts in my head like a firework. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it right away! I jump off the ladder, spilling more paint.

  I write: The walls of my bedroom are paint
ed Aquarium Blue, like an aquarium!

  Dad calls from downstairs. “Polly?”

  I drop my brush and make a quick stop in the bathroom to wash the paint off my hands. I slide down the banister, holding my brilliant book tight.

  In the kitchen, Dad is still on the phone.

  “Can you play with Anna?” he asks. “It’s your mom calling.”

  “I wanna play hide-and-seek.” Anna pulls my leg. Her hair is tangled.

  Her clothes are covered in glitter.

  “I’ll hide,” I say to Anna. “Go count. NO PEEKING.”

  I duck under the table with my magic book. I watch Dad’s gorilla feet go by. He is talking excitedly on the phone. I listen to Anna calling for me.

  I write:

  The Top Reason Why I Love to Play Hide-and-Seek

  I feel like I’m invisible, and I love it!

  Invisible? Cool!

  Dad gets off the phone. “Polly, where are you?”

  “I can’t find her ANYWHERE!” Anna says.

  “Polly!” Dad’s gorilla feet go by again. “Come out, come out, wherever you are. Exciting news! Our new baby is coming.”

  I scramble out from under the table.

  Dad pushes his hands into his hair so it sticks up. “Polly?” he calls.

  I step right in front of him.

  “Polly? Where are you?”

  “Dad, I’m here,” I say. I giggle because he is looking right at me.

  “Not funny, Polly.” His voice is sharp. He looks over his shoulder—as if I might be behind him. “Where are you?”