Judy Moody and the Bad Luck Charm

  “I thought you wanted to emancipate from me, too,” said Judy.

  “I did. I do. But you made a piggy promise,” said Jessica. “Besides, I can’t take a pig to a spelling bee.” Jessica snorted and laughed like a hyena.

  Once upon a lucky penny, Judy had wanted to be in the spelling bee herself. But now she was happy to be a pig sitter. “C’mon, PeeGee WeeGee,” said Judy, taking the leash. “We are going to have way more fun than any old spelling bee, aren’t we?” PeeGee WeeGee snuffled her mussy hair.

  Stink came to the door. He scratched under the piggy’s ears. “Remember me?”

  “I call him P.G. for short,” said Jessica. “Hold on.” She ran back to her room. She came back carrying boatloads of pig stuff.

  “Here’s his water dish. Make sure he has fresh water at all times.”

  “Check,” said Judy.

  “Here’s his busy ball. Pig pellets come out, in case he gets hungry. I forgot Binky, his favorite stuffed animal. But here’s his favorite blankie if he wants to take a nap.”

  “Check,” said Judy.

  “He likes this pillow, too.” She handed Judy a pillowcase filled with beans. “He curls up on it. Oh, and this is special shampoo in case you want to give him a bath.”

  “Does he have a favorite song, like ‘On Top of Spaghetti?’” Judy teased.

  “Oops! I almost forgot.” She ran away and came back waving a piece of notebook paper. “His favorite song is ‘This Little Piggy’ but these are the words he likes better. I wrote them out for you.”

  Judy looked at Stink and made the cuckoo sign.

  Mr. and Mrs. Finch came out of their room across the hall. “Time to go, honey,” said Mrs. Finch. “The spelling bee starts in one hour. Judy, do you and Stink have everything you need?”

  Judy nodded. “I’m good with pigs,” she said.

  The Moodys stepped out into the hall. “Just do your best today,” Mom said to Jessica. “You’re going to be great.”

  “Class 3T will be proud,” said Dad.

  “Thanks,” said Jessica. “Wish me luck.”

  “Break a leg,” said Stink.

  “I hope not!” said Jessica.

  “Well, then, break a pigtail,” said Judy. She cracked herself up.

  Jessica leaned down to give P.G. one more hug. “Don’t let P.G. eat candy bars,” she called over her shoulder.

  “Say hi to Mr. Todd!” Judy called back.

  “Oh, and TV kind of freaks him out,” Jessica added, “unless it’s the movie Babe.”

  “Don’t worry about P.G.,” said Mom. “The kids will take good care of him.”

  As soon as Jessica and her parents were gone, Judy threw her hands in the air and yelled, “Let’s have a piggy party!”

  “Kids,” said Dad. “Keep P.G. in here. Mom and I will be right outside on the balcony if you need us.”

  “Sure,” said Judy.

  PeeGee WeeGee stood in a corner, shaking.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Stink asked.

  “I think he’s scared,” said Judy.

  P.G. raised one eyebrow and grunted. All of a sudden, Judy smelled a terrible, no-good, very bad smell.

  “Stink-er!” said Judy.

  “It wasn’t me,” said Stink. “It was the pig. I read in the P encyclopedia that pigs can let go an awful smell when they’re scared.”

  Judy cracked open a window. “We should call him P.U.” Judy said. “Not P.G.”

  Judy and Stink sat on the floor across from each other and rolled the busy ball back and forth between them. After a few minutes, P.G. quieted down and stopped quivering.

  “Try rolling the ball to him now, Stink.”

  P.G. raised his ears. He chased after the ball. The ball rolled under the bed.

  P.G. dove in after it and came out the other side.

  “Good boy, P.G.,” said Judy. She scooped up the ball and shook it. “Little pellets are supposed to fall out for him to eat.”

  “Do you think he’s hungry?” asked Stink.

  “Pigs are always hungry,” said Judy.

  Stink ate some chips from a bag. P.G. went bananas, tearing around the room.

  “Stink! He can’t have candy. Put that away! You’re making him all cuckoo.”

  “It’s not candy. It’s chips.”

  “Whatever. The noisy bag sound is driving him crazy.”

  “He wants something in your suitcase,” said Stink. P.G. had Judy’s polka-dot kneesock in his mouth.

  “P. G.! Give that back!” said Judy. “You are all nose, you know that?”

  “Look,” said Stink. “He’s trying to open the mini fridge!”

  Judy picked up the phone and pressed a button. “Room service?” she asked. “Do you have any pig food?”

  Judy listened. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh.” She nodded. “Cottage cheese? Sounds good. Yogurt? Sounds healthy.” She nodded some more. “Thanks!”

  “I know,” said Judy. “Let’s give P.G. a bath while we wait for the pig food.”

  Judy filled the tub with a little bit of warm water. “And now, for some piggy shampoo.” She made the water sudsy, like a bubble bath. “In you go,” she said.

  P.G. kicked. P.G. splashed. P.G. jumped. “Look! He loves it,” said Judy.

  “Too bad we don’t have a rubber ducky. I mean rubber piggy,” said Stink.

  “Stink, squeeze some shampoo on him and I’ll rub it in.” Stink ran to get the shampoo bottle.

  “Scrub-a-dub-dubby, P.G. loves the tubby,” Judy sang. P.G. snorted and squealed.

  “That’s not one of the songs he likes,” said Stink.

  “This little piggy went to D.C. . . .” Judy sang.

  She rinsed him off. “There. Squeaky clean,” she said. She tried to lift him out of the tub, but P.G. was all wet and wiggly. Soapy and squiggly.

  “Help, Stink. Grab a towel. He’s super slippery.”

  Stink came over and held out the towel. Judy picked up the piglet. That pig was extra squiggly. That pig was extra wiggly.

  “Mr. Piggle Wiggle,” said Judy. Before she could get P.G. into the towel, that little piggy squiggled and wiggled right out of Judy’s arms.

  That little piggy bolted right out of the bathroom. P.G. ran out into the front room. He ran right out the door and into the hall.

  “Who left the door open?” Judy called.

  Judy ran after the pig. Stink ran after Judy, still holding the towel. P.G. snorted and squealed and bumped into walls. They chased that pig down the fancy carpet past paintings of cherry blossoms. They chased that pig past a calico cat with a tiara. They chased that pig to the big red EXIT sign.

  “PeeGee WeeGee! Come back here!” Judy called.

  Ding! Judy heard a bell. OH, NO! E-L-E-V-A-T-O-R! Elevator!

  “Hurry, Stink! We have to get him before he goes on the — PEEGEE WEEGEE! NOoooooo!”

  P.G. was on the elevator!

  Whoosh! The doors closed shut. P.G. was riding the elevator!

  “Stink!” cried Judy. “Why didn’t you grab him with the towel?”

  “Are you kidding? Wet pigs are as slippery as greased lightning. And fast. We better go tell Mom and Dad what happened.”

  “I’m telling Mom and Dad,” said Judy, “when pigs fly!”

  “But maybe they can put out a pig alert in the hotel or something.”

  “Or something!” Judy looked at the numbers above the elevator door. Up, up, up it went. “C’mon, Stink. He’s going up. We have to catch him before —”

  Stink pointed. “Now he’s coming back down! The elevator is probably going all the way to the lobby!”

  “I got it!” said Judy. “The stairs!”

  Judy and Stink pushed through the door to the stairwell. They ran down one-two-three flights of stairs. They ran down four-five-six flights of stairs.

  When they got to the bottom, Judy bent over, breathing hard. “Why did we have to get a room on the seventh floor?” Judy asked.

  “Because you said seven is a luck
y number,” said Stink.

  “Well, it sure turned out to be UN-lucky,” said Judy.

  They opened the door onto a hallway and turned a corner to reach the lobby.

  The lobby was empty. Pigless. All the elevator doors were closed.

  No sign of pig anywhere. Not one hair. Not even a pig tail.

  “He’s not here!” Judy cried. “What are we going to do?”

  She, Judy Moody, had all the luck. NOT. P.G. was L-O-S-T lost.

  “Maybe he got off on another floor,” said Stink.

  Ding! Just then, an elevator door opened. Judy and Stink rushed over and peered inside. A guy in a bathrobe and slippers stepped out.

  “Have you seen a pig?” Judy asked the guy. “He’s about this big, pinkish, with a black spot on his tail. He answers to the name PeeGee WeeGee or just P.G.?”

  “Sorry. My ride was pig-free,” said the guy, heading for the pool.

  Ding! Another elevator landed. Only a gray-haired lady with an umbrella stepped out.

  “He’s got to be around here somewhere,” said Judy. “C’mon, Stinker. Think like a pig.”

  “I’m hungry,” said Stink.

  “Not now, Stink.”

  “But you told me to think like a pig. Pigs are always hungry.” Stink cupped his hand to his mouth. “Mar-co!” he called.

  “Oink-o,” Judy called back.

  “It’s Polo,” said Stink.

  “Um, Stink, I hate to tell you, but pigs can’t say ‘Polo.’”

  “Oh. Yeah.”

  Judy slumped to the floor. It was no use. Her lucky penny must be deader than a toenail. O-U-T out of good luck. All it seemed to bring now was the other kind. B-A-D luck.

  “C’mon, Stink. If you were a pig in a big hotel, where would you go?”

  “To the piggy bank?” Stink teased.

  “Get serious.”

  “Okay, I’d ride piggyback on one of those wheelie carts all the way down to the pool. Then I’d climb up the high dive and —”

  “When pigs fly!” said Judy. Wait a second. Fly? She looked up. Of course! The glass elevator. “Follow me!”

  Judy and Stink stood smack-dab in the center of the lobby. They looked up, up, up at the fancy glass elevator. “Is that who I think it is?” Stink asked.

  It was not an iguana named Iggy. It was not a chinchilla. It was not an Oompa-Loompa. It was a little piggy running in circles around the inside of the glass elevator.

  “P.G.!” called Judy. Hurry up! Hurry up! she willed the elevator. “Why does that thing have to take so long?”

  Ding! At last, the elevator landed and the door opened. P.G. was chasing his tail and kicking up his pig’s feet.

  “Hold the door open,” Judy told Stink. She talked baby talk to P.G. “Who’s a bad little piggy? You are. Yes, you are. Coo, coo, coo.”

  “You’re cuckoo,” said Stink.

  Just then, P.G. bolted out the elevator door, away from Judy, and past Stink. Oink! Oink! Snort! He ran squealing and grunting, slipping and sliding across the marble lobby floors. He ran over to a potted tree in the lobby and snuffled in the dirt.

  “Dirt! He misses dirt!” said Stink.

  Pshoo! P.G. sneezed and shook his ears. He ran circles around the fountain in the lobby.

  “P.G.! No!” said Judy, but it was too late. Ker-splash! P.G. bounded right in.

  “Towel time,” said Judy, taking the towel from Stink. “Okay. I’m going to sneak up behind him and grab him.” Tiptoe . . . tiptoe . . . tiptoe . . . pounce!

  “Gotcha!” said Judy. She scooped P.G. up in the towel and snuggled him close. “P.G., what were you thinking? You already had a bath, you nutty pig.”

  Judy, Stink, and P.G. got back on the elevator. Stink pressed the button for seven. “Going up!” he called.

  “You had us worried there, P.G.,” said Judy. “Yes, you did.” She held P.G. in the air and rubbed noses with him. “Gimme a kiss!” she cooed.

  When they got back, Dad poked his head into the room. “Where were you two?”

  “Um, we just took P.G. for a ride on the elevator,” said Judy. “No biggie.”

  “Next time, ask before you leave this room,” said Mom. “Both of you.”

  “And who ordered all this cottage cheese?” asked Dad.

  “We did. It’s for P.G.,” said Judy. Snarf! P.G. was already helping himself.

  “All right. I have to make a call and check in with Grandma Lou. We’ll be in here if you need us,” said Mom.

  When P.G. was done snarfing his food, he hopped up on the bed and curled up on his special pillow. Judy wrapped him in his favorite blankie, where he snuggled with Blue Monkey. “This little piggy rode an elevator,” she sang softly.

  Stink flipped on the TV. P.G. shook his head till his ears flapped, and backed away.

  “Stink! TV freaks him out, and I just got him to settle down.”

  “Sorry,” said Stink. He hit the mute button, flipping through channels.

  “Remember, P.G.,” Judy whispered. “No squealing on us when Jessica gets back, okay? The elevator ride? That’s our little secret. Shake on it?” Judy picked up his right hoof and shook.

  “Hey, look what’s on!” Stink cried. “The sequel to his favorite movie. Babe: Pig in the City!”

  “You are one lucky-ducky pig,” Judy told P.G. She cuddled up with him to watch the movie. Stink turned up the sound.

  “And there’s Farmer Hoggett,” said Judy. “He got hurt. And now Babe has to try to save the farm.” They all three watched the movie. Judy and Stink laughed. “See? Babe got to stay in a hotel, too. Just like you.”

  “Mmmph!” P.G. snorted.

  “Look. He’s getting sleepy,” said Stink.

  “He’s had a big day,” said Judy. “He’s P.G.: Pig in the City.”

  Zzzzz. At last, PeeGee WeeGee started to snooze. Snurf!

  “Phew. We lucked out. He fell asleep. Doesn’t he look all cute when he’s sleeping?” Judy whispered.

  “His eyes are moving. I think he’s dreaming,” said Stink.

  “Visions of cottage cheese are dancing in his head,” said Judy.

  “Visions of elevators,” said Stink.

  “Shh!” Judy warned. Jessica Finch could be right outside that door. It was almost four. Jessica might be coming back any minute. “No squealing about the ride on the You-Know-What!” said Judy, putting her finger to her lips.

  Knock knock!

  Judy jumped up and opened the door. Sure enough, it was Jessica Finch. And she had a bee painted on her face. A spelling bee.

  “How did the spelling bee —” Judy started to ask, but Jessica ran over to P.G.

  “Don’t wake him up. I just got him —”

  Too late. Jessica had already scooped P.G. up in her arms and was giving him hugs and kisses. “P.G.!” she said. “I missed you, you little pig face.”

  “PeeGee WeeGee!” squealed P.G. He curled his tail.

  “Aw, you missed me, too, didn’t you, little guy?” Jessica cooed.

  Mr. and Mrs. Finch came up behind Jessica. They peered inside. The Moodys’ hotel room was a mess. The bed was a tornado. Socks and shoes littered the floor. Trays with empty bowls of cottage cheese were here, there, and everywhere.

  “What happened here?” Mr. Finch asked.

  “This place is a pigsty!” said Jessica, cackling.

  “Duh!” said Judy. “He’s your pig. You know how he is.”

  “I’m afraid we do,” said Mrs. Finch.

  Mom and Dad came out of the other room when they heard the commotion.

  “The kids really had a fun time with P.G.,” said Dad.

  “We gave P.G. a bath,” said Stink.

  “And I taught him to give kisses,” said Judy.

  “And P.G. didn’t escape or ride the elevator or anything,” said Stink.

  Judy gave Stink the stink-eye. “Squealer!” she muttered under her breath. She quick-changed the subject. “Hurry up, Jessica. Tell us what happened at the spelling bee.??
?

  “It was fine.”

  “Fine?” Judy screeched. “That’s it?” Judy wagged her finger at Jessica. “Wait a second. I get it. It’s okay if you didn’t win, you know.”

  “Yeah, but, okay, um . . . I did win.”

  “You WON?” said Judy. “As in won? As in beat everybody? Even Sanjay Sharma? As in Class 3T and Virginia Dare School takes home the trophy for The Great Third-Grade Spelling Bee?”

  Jessica nodded.

  “See, told you you’d win! Even though I kabobbed your spelling list.”

  “Can you believe it? Our girl won,” said Mr. Finch.

  “We’re so proud of her,” said Mrs. Finch.

  “Congratulations, Jessica!” said Mom.

  “Way to go!” said Dad.

  “Where’s the trophy?” Stink asked.

  “Then I don’t get it,” said Judy. “Why are you acting weird?”

  “I’m not acting weird,” said Jessica.

  “Yes, you are. You should be going crazy and running laps around the room and screaming ‘I won, I won’ and jumping up and down on furniture and stuff.”

  “Go ahead, honey. Tell us all about it,” said Mom.

  “Well, first I spelled cartoon and nightmare.”

  “Easy-peasy,” said Judy. “For you, I mean.”

  “Then it got harder. I got flip-flops in my stomach when they said unbelievable because I couldn’t remember if it was I before E or E before I.”

  “Or E-I-E-I-O,” said Stink. Everybody laughed.

  “Then it got down to just me and Sanjay. I thought for sure he was going to win. I was so nervous my teeth were chattering like it was the middle of winter.”

  “What word did you win with?” Judy asked.

  “Was it titanic?” Stink asked.

  “Was it gargantuan?” Judy asked. “I bet it was gargantuan.”

  “Was it president?” Stink asked. “No wait, was it jawbreaker? It was jawbreaker, wasn’t it?”

  Jessica shrugged.

  Mr. Finch said, “Her mother and I were worried because it wasn’t on any of the lists.”

  “We still don’t know how she knew it,” said Mrs. Finch.