Hurray for Barbara Park
and the Junie B. Jones® books!
“Park, one of the funniest writers around … brings her refreshing humor to the beginning chapter-book set.”
—Booklist
“Park convinces beginning readers that Junie B.— and reading—are lots of fun.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Park is simply hilarious.”
—America Online's The Book Report
“Junie B. is a darling of the young-reader set.”
—USA Today
“Children's book star Junie B. Jones is a feisty six-year-old with an endearing penchant for honesty.”
—Time
“First grade offers a whole year of exciting possibilities for Junie B. … As always, Park is in touch with what kids know and how they feel.”
—School Library Journal
“Sassy, hilarious, and insightful. Park obviously understands the passions and fears of first-graders.”
—Booklist
Laugh out loud with Junie B. Jones!
#1 Junie B. Jones and the Stupid Smelly Bus
#2 Junie B. Jones and a Little Monkey Business
#3 Junie B. Jones and Her Big Fat Mouth
#4 Junie B. Jones and Some Sneaky Peeky Spying
#5 Junie B. Jones and the Yucky Blucky Fruitcake
#6 Junie B. Jones and That Meanie Jim's Birthday
#7 Junie B. Jones Loves Handsome Warren
#8 Junie B. Jones Has a Monster Under Her Bed
#9 Junie B. Jones Is Not a Crook
#10 Junie B. Jones Is a Party Animal
#11 Junie B. Jones Is a Beauty Shop Guy
#12 Junie B. Jones Smells Something Fishy
#13 Junie B. Jones Is (almost) a Flower Girl
#14 Junie B. Jones and the Mushy Gushy Valentime
#15 Junie B. Jones Has a Peep in Her Pocket
#16 Junie B. Jones Is Captain Field Day
#17 Junie B. Jones Is a Graduation Girl
#18 Junie B., First Grader (at last!)
#19 Junie B., First Grader: Boss of Lunch
#20 Junie B., First Grader: Toothless Wonder
#21 Junie B., First Grader: Cheater Pants
#22 Junie B., First Grader: One-Man Band
#23 Junie B., First Grader: Shipwrecked
#24 Junie B., First Grader: BOO … and I MEAN It!
#25 Junie B., First Grader: Jingle Bells, Batman Smells! (P.S. So Does May.)
#26 Junie B., First Grader: Aloha-ha-ha!
#27 Junie B., First Grader: Dumb Bunny
Top-Secret Personal Beeswax: A Journal by Junie B. (and me!)
Check out Barbara Park's other great books, listed at the end of this book!
For cafeteria workers far and wide.
We love you guys!
1. Not Normal
2. Hoagies
3. Cookies
4. Gladys
5. Practicing
6. Boss of Lunch
7. Jobs
8. Lunchtime
9. Baloney
I put down my pencil and looked all around.
Room One was still writing in their journals.
I smiled very sneaky.
Then I bent over in my chair real slow.
And I reached way down. And I lifted up the lid of my brand-new, shiny—
“LUNCH BOX!” hollered out May. “JUNIE JONES JUST OPENED HER LUNCH BOX AGAIN, MR. SCARY! AND YOU TOLD HER NOT TO DO THAT ANYMORE! REMEMBER?”
May is the tattletale girl who sits next to me.
I do not actually care for her.
My heart pounded very hard. I bent over even more. And I hid my head so my teacher couldn't see me.
Only I didn't do a good job of hiding, I guess. Because just then, I heard Mr. Scary's shoes walking toward me.
“Junie B.? Why is your lunch box open again?” asked Mr. Scary. “Didn't I just speak to you about this a few minutes ago?”
I kept my head down and I looked at the floor. One of Mr. Scary's shoes started tapping at me.
Tappy shoes are not happy shoes, I think.
“Junie B.?” said Mr. Scary again. “Do you have a good reason for opening your lunch box again?”
I quick closed my eyes and tried to think of a good reason.
Mr. Scary's shoe tapped louder.
I opened my eyes and peeked at it.
And then, BINGO!
All of a sudden, a miracle happened!
One of my eyes saw my napkin in the corner of my lunch box … and a bright idea popped right into my head!
I quick grabbed the napkin. And I started shining Mr. Scary's shoes!
“Look, Mr. Scary! Look! Here is my good reason!” I said. “See me? Huh? I am shining your shoes with my napkin. See?”
I shined and shined.
“This is the smartest reason I ever came up with,” I said very proud.
I smiled up at him. “Would you like some spit on the napkin?” I asked real nice. “A little spit makes shoes look extra gleamy.”
Mr. Scary quick pulled his shoe away.
“No, Junie B. No spit. Please. Just sit up,” he said.
I sat up.
Mr. Scary stared and stared at me.
I wiggled in my seat very uncomfortable. ’Cause staring teachers make me squirmy, of course.
Finally, Mr. Scary talked again.
“I want you to stay out of your lunch box, Junie B.,” he said. “We have a rule in Room One. Lunch boxes are to be opened only in the cafeteria.”
I did a sad sigh.
“Yes,” I said. “I know the rule, Mr. Scary. But I waited a real long time to get this lunch box. And yesterday it finally came to my house. And so today is my first day of not carrying a plain brown sack to school. And so every time I look at that new lunch box, I feel happy inside.”
I picked it up to show him.
“See how cute it is?” I said. “My mother ordered it from a nature store. It has pictures of baby birds on it. See all of them?”
I pointed. “This one is my favorite,” I said. “It is called an owlet. Owlet is the name for a baby owl. My grampa Frank Miller told me that.”
I pointed at a different bird. “That one is an eaglet,” I said. “An eaglet is a baby eagle.”
After that, I held my lunch box way high in the air so all of Room One could see it.
“See all the birdlets, children? There are owlets and eaglets and ducklets and chicklets,” I explained.
I put my lunch box on my desk. And I took out the thermos.
“And see this thermos, people? This thermos has pictures of bird nests on it. Isn't that cute?”
May made a face.
“Ick,” she said. “Who wants to drink out of a stinky, pooey bird's nest?”
I made a face at her. “I do, that's who, May!” I said. “I love drinking out of stinky, pooey birds’ nests.”
May reached into her desk and pulled out a lunch ticket.
“Well, I buy my lunch, Junie Jones,” she said. “Bought lunches are much better than brought lunches. Bought lunches don't sit around all morning and get soggy.”
I crossed my arms at that girl.
“That's the dumbest thing I ever heard of, May,” I said right back. “Brought lunches are way better than bought lunches. ’Cause brought lunches are made special by our very own mothers!”
Mr. Scary did a frown. “Okay, okay, girls … that's enough,” he said.
But May kept on arguing with me.
“For your information, Junie Jones, mothers are not professional lunch makers,” she said. “Mothers are just plain old normal people.”
I stamped my foot at her. ’Cause
that was my final straw!
“Do not call my mother normal, May!” I hollered. “No one in my whole entire family is normal! So there!”
May started to laugh.
Then some of the other children laughed, too.
I do not know why.
Finally, Mr. Scary snapped his fingers at them.
I put my lunch box back on the floor.
It was not my best morning.
The lunch bell rang at twelve o'clock.
Twelve o'clock is around noonish, I believe.
I picked up my lunch box and ran to the door. Then I lined up with my friends. And I waited to go.
“It's almost time,” I told them very thrilled. “It's almost time for me to eat out of my brand-new lunch box!”
I held it up for them to see again.
“Which baby bird do you guys like the best?” I asked. “Pick one, okay?”
My friend named José looked at the birds and shrugged his shoulders.
“I don't know. I guess maybe I like the duck best,” he said. “Ducks can be funny sometimes. One time—when we were having a picnic at the lake—a duck chased my sister and stole her Ho-Ho.”
My friends Lennie and Herb laughed real hard. They looked at my lunch box, too.
“I think I like the owlet the best,” said Herb.
“Me too,” said Lennie. “I saw a TV show on owls once. And an owl swallowed a giant rat in just one bite. He didn't even chew or anything.”
After that, I stared at Lennie a real long time.
’Cause that disgusting story just ruined my owlet, that's why.
Finally, all of Room One walked to the cafeteria together.
The cafeteria is a big room where we eat lunch. It has smells and noise and tables in it.
Room One sits near the window.
I zoomed there speedy quick.
“Come, Herb!” I called. “Come, Lennie and José! It's time for you to watch me eat out of my new lunch box!”
I turned around to wait for them.
Only too bad for me. Because none of those guys were even coming.
Instead, they were standing in the stupid dumb lunch line.
My mouth fell open at that sight.
“Herb! Hey, Herb!” I called. “What do you think you're doing? Why aren't you coming to eat with me?”
Herb shouted back. “I'm buying my lunch today, Junie B.!”
José shouted, too. “Me too. Everyone is buying today, Junie B.!”
“Hoagies! We're having hoagies!” hollered Lennie. “Save us a seat!”
My shoulders slumped real disappointed. ’Cause I wasn't actually expecting this development.
I sat down at my table and looked all around.
There was only one other person sitting there.
His name is Sheldon.
I do not know him that good.
Sheldon waved his fingers at me. “We're the only ones here,” he said. “We're the only ones who didn't buy hoagies today.”
I did a sigh. “Yes, Sheldon. I know that,” I said.
Sheldon slid across from me.
“Hoagies are very popular. But I'm not allowed to eat them,” he said. “I'm allergic to fake meat and cheese.”
I looked at Sheldon closer.
His nose was running very much.
“Please wipe your nose,” I said.
Sheldon didn't pay attention to me.
“I'm only allowed to eat food that comes from nature,” he said.
His nose ran even more. “Also, I'm allergic to dairy,” he told me.
I handed him my napkin. “Blow. And I mean it,” I said.
Sheldon did not blow.
I slid to the end of the table.
Pretty soon, my friends started coming out of the kitchen. The other children started coming, too.
They sat down and took big bites of their hoagies.
“Mmm,” said Herb. “This hoagie is delicious!”
“Sí,” said José. “Muy delicioso!”
Lennie nodded. Then he opened up his hoagie roll and looked inside.
“I think even you would like this hoagie, Junie B.,” he said. “Look. It has ham and salami and cheese and lettuce and tomato.”
Just then, May butted her big head in.
“It's good for you, too, Junie Jones,” she said. “All school lunches have to be delicious and nutritious. It's a law.”
“So?” I said.
“So lunches brought from home can be any old thing,” she said back.
I did a huffy breath at her.
Then I turned my back. And I hid my sandwich very secret. And I peeked inside the bread.
I stared and stared for a real long time. ’Cause I didn't actually recognize the meat, that's why.
Finally, I ate it anyway.
It was tasty … whatever it was.
I was the first one done with my lunch.
That's because eating hoagies takes forever, of course.
I put my lunch box away and looked at Herb's plate.
He had three more foods to go.
First, he had carrot sticks. Also, he had applesauce and a cookie.
I leaned in closer.
“Mmm. I think that's a sugar cookie, Herbert,” I said. “Sugar cookies are my favorites.”
Herb nodded. “Me too,” he said. “I like sugar cookies, too.”
I touched his cookie with my finger.
“Yes-sir-ee-bob. That's a sugar cookie all right, Herb,” I said. “I didn't get a cookie at all today. My mother packed me a fruit bar instead.”
“Oh,” said Herb. “Well, fruit bars are good, too.”
I tapped my fingers on the table. ’Cause Herb didn't even get my hint.
“Yes, Herbert. I know fruit bars are good,” I said. “But I really wanted a cookie today. And so I wish that you would just share that thing with me, and that's all.”
Herb looked at me and shrugged. “Why didn't you just say so?” he said.
Then he broke his cookie in two. And he handed me half.
I gushed real happy. “Oh! Thank you, Herb! Thank you! Thank you!” I said.
After that, I stuffed the cookie right into my mouth. And I drank a sip of Herb's milk.
“Yum! That tasted just like the cookies that Mrs. Gutzman used to bring to afternoon kindergarten,” I said.
I smiled at the thought of that woman.
“Gladys Gutzman was our snack lady last year,” I explained to Herb. “She used to bring us cookies and milk every week.”
I made my voice kind of secret.
“Only guess what, Herbert. Sometimes Mrs. Gutzman gave me two cookies instead of one,” I said. “’Cause I was her favorite person in Room Nine, I think.”
José heard what I said. “Hey! That must mean that I was her favorite in Room Eight!” he said. “Because sometimes Mrs. Gutzman gave me an extra one, too.”
After that, me and José did a high five.
’Cause both of us were favorites, apparently!
“That woman was a gem, I tell you,” I said.
“What do you mean she was a gem, Junie B.?” said José. “She still is a gem. Mrs. Gutzman still works here, you know.”
“What?” I said very surprised.
“Sure, she does,” said Herb. “I met Mrs. Gutzman this year already. She works right there in the kitchen.”
I couldn't believe my ears.
“Really?” I said. “Really? Really? Really? Because if Mrs. Gutzman still works at our school, how come she hasn't brought us milk and cookies this year?”
Herb shrugged. “I don't know,” he said. “But she still works here, all right. In fact, we saw her just now when we were getting our hoagies.”
I put my hand over my mouth. ’Cause that news was too good to be true!
José laughed. “If you don't believe us, go see for yourself,” he said.
“I will, José! I will go see for myself!” I said real joyful.
Then I jumped right out of my sea
t.
And I zoomed into the kitchen.
And I hollered and hollered for Mrs. Gutzman!
“Mrs. Gutzman! Mrs. Gladys Gutzman! Where are you?” I hollered. “It's me! It's me! It's Junie B. Jones!”
I looked all around me. There was a long counter with children pushing trays.
“Did anyone see Mrs. Gutzman?” I asked the children. “Does anyone know her? My friends said she is right here in this kitchen. But I don't even see her.”
I hollered her name even louder.
“MRS. GUTZMAN! MRS. GLADYS GUTZMAN!”
Then, all of a sudden, a lady came hurrying around the corner.
And good news!!!
It was her !
It was Mrs. Gladys Gutzman!
I ran and hugged her very tight.
“Mrs. Gutzman! Mrs. Gutzman! I am so glad to see you!” I said.
Mrs. Gutzman hugged me back.
“Junie B. Jones! I'm glad to see you, too!” she said.
I smiled up at her.
She was wearing her same big white apron from last year.
“Whoa! Just look at you, Mrs. Gutzman!” I said. “You didn't change a bit!”
I patted her apron.
“You didn't even change your clothes, apparently,” I said.
Mrs. Gutzman laughed.
She was wearing plastic mitts on her hands. Plus also, she was wearing a hair net.
“Hey, I remember those things from last year!” I said. “You told me that you wear plastic mitts and a hair net whenever you touch food, remember? You said that was called good hygiene. ’Cause mitts and a hair net protect our food from dirty germs and hairs.”
Mrs. Gutzman made a face.
“Are you sure that's the way I put it?” she asked.
I skipped all around her in a circle.
“Hey, Mrs. Gutzman! Now that you found me, you can start bringing cookies to my room again!”
I held up one finger. “I am in Room One this year,” I said. “Room One comes earlier in the alphabet than Room Nine. And so now that you know where I am, when can you bring the cookies, Gladys?”
Mrs. Gutzman did a chuckle.
Then she leaned down next to me.
And she patted my arm.
And she said don't call her Gladys.