After that, Mrs. Gutzman explained all about snacks. She said that first graders don't get snacks like kindergarten kids do. On account of first graders get cookies with their school lunches.
I did a frown at that news.
“Yeah, only what about the children who bring their lunches, Mrs. Gutzman? Where's our cookies? Huh? ’Cause today everybody got a cookie except for me and Sheldon.”
Mrs. Gutzman didn't answer my question. Instead, she raised her head and looked behind me.
That's when I heard my teacher's voice.
“Junie B. Jones,” he said kind of loudish. “Exactly what do you think you're doing?”
I spun around.
Mr. Scary's eyes looked annoyed at me.
“Why did you get up from the table, Junie B.?” he asked. “Hmm? What's the story here?”
Everyone was staring.
I did a big gulp. Then I squeezed my eyes closed real tight. And I tried to think of the story here.
“Well, um … let's see,” I said. “First, I was eating my brought lunch … and everyone else was eating their bought lunch. And so that's how come I was the first one finished. And then I was just sitting there. And I spotted Herb's sugar cookie. And I really, really wanted that thing. And good news … Herb shared! And so then that delicious cookie reminded me about Mrs. Gutzman. And what do you know? Herb and José said she was right here in this exact kitchen. So I jumped up from the table. And I ran in to say hello,” I said.
After that, I looked up at Mrs. Gutzman kind of nervous. And I waved my fingers.
“Hello,” I said real soft.
“Hello,” she said back.
Mr. Scary shook his head. “No. I'm sorry, Junie B. I know Mrs. Gutzman has enjoyed seeing you. But you can't just get up from the table and run wherever you please during lunch,” he said.
Mrs. Gutzman nodded. “Mr. Scary is right, Junie B.,” she said. “I am very happy to see you. But you do have to learn to follow school rules.”
I did a sigh.
“Yeah, only I really, really wanted to find you, Mrs. Gutzman,” I said. “’Cause I missed you very much.”
Mrs. Gutzman tapped on her chin.
“Hmm,” she said. “Maybe I have an idea. Maybe—if you promise to follow the rules—you can come back tomorrow and help me in the kitchen. Would you like that, do you think?”
My eyes got big and wide at her. “Are you kidding, Mrs. Gutzman?” I said. “Is this some kind of a joke?”
She smiled again.
“Nope,” she said. “It's no joke. We let children help us in the kitchen quite often. If it's okay with your teacher, I'll give you a permission slip to take home to your parents.”
I pulled on Mr. Scary's arm. “Say it's okay! Okay? Please! Please! Please!” I begged.
Mr. Scary didn't answer right away.
Instead, he ran his fingers through his hair. And he thought and thought.
Then finally, he said it.
Mr. Scary said it's okay!
I clapped and danced and twirled.
“I can do it, Mrs. Gutzman!” I said. “I can come and help you in the kitchen!”
“Excellent!” said Mrs. Gutzman.
Then she reached behind the counter. And she handed me a permission slip.
And that is not all!
Because she reached back there one more time. And she pulled out a pair of brand-new plastic mitts!
“Here,” she said. “These are for you. You can wear them around your house tonight and get used to them.”
I did a gasp at those wonderful things.
“Thank you, Mrs. Gutzman! Thank you!” I said. “I've always wanted some of these thingamajigs!”
After that, I put them on my hands very thrilled. And I waved goodbye to Mrs. Gutzman.
“See you!” I said. “See you tomorrow!”
Then I walked back to my lunch table with Mr. Scary.
And I followed the rules for the rest of the day.
After school, I ran home from my bus stop.
It was Mother's day off from work.
She was in the backyard playing with my baby brother named Ollie.
Ollie is ten months old. He cannot skip or play tag or color.
So far, I am not that satisfied with him.
I ran out the back door.
“Mother! Mother! I'm going to be a helper! I'm going to be a helper!” I shouted real cheery.
I quick handed her my permission slip.
“Read this paper! Hurry! It's from Mrs. Gutzman!” I said. “You remember Mrs. Gutzman, right? Mrs. Gutzman used to be my cookie lady last year. But this year she's branched out, apparently. ’Cause now she's the boss of the whole kitchen operation, I think.”
Mother read the permission slip.
I bounced up and down very excited.
“See, Mother? See? Mrs. Gutzman wants me to be her helper in the cafeteria tomorrow. And so all you have to do is sign that paper. And I will be all set.”
I started back to the house. “I'll go get you a pen!”
Mother hollered, “Hold on” to me.
“This really does sound like fun, Junie B.,” she said. “But let's talk it over at dinner, okay? At dinner you can tell Daddy and me all about it.”
I did a big breath at her.
“But I don't want to talk it over at dinner, Mother,” I said. “I want you to sign that paper right exactly now. Please, please? Just sign it, okay?”
Mother smiled. “Patience, Junie B.,” she said. “Dinner is just a few hours away.
I'd like Daddy to be in on this, too.”
I rolled my eyes way up to the sky ’Cause Daddy always has to be in on everything.
Finally, I went back in the house. And I walked around the kitchen very bored.
“There's not even anything to do in this stupid dumb house,” I grouched.
Then, all of a sudden, I spotted my backpack sitting on the floor.
That's when I remembered my plastic mitts!
I'd put them in my backpack to carry them home from school!
I hurried to get them out of there.
Then I quick put them on. And I ran to the refrigerator.
“Now I can practice touching food!” I said real thrilled.
I opened up the door and started touching stuff.
First, I touched some fruit, and an avocado, and a squishy tomato. Then I put my hand in the butter. And also some creamy cottage cheese.
“Whoa. These mitts make touching food enjoyable,” I said.
After I was done, I put the mitts in my pocket. And I went to watch TV. Only I couldn't even pay attention that good. ’Cause I kept on thinking about being a helper, of course.
My excitement got bigger and bigger.
Then hurray, hurray! Daddy finally came home from work! And it was time for dinner!
As soon as I sat down, I told Daddy all about Mrs. Gutzman.
Then surprise! I put on my mitts. And I waved my hands all around in the air.
“Look, Mother! Look, Daddy! See what Mrs. Gutzman gave me? These are real professional mitts from the actual cafeteria!”
I sat up straight and tall. “Mitts do not spread dirty germs,” I explained. “And guess what else? I already know how to use these babies.”
After that, I jumped down from my chair. And I ran around the table. And I touched everyone's dinner.
I touched Mother's meatloaf. And Daddy's mashed potatoes. And Ollie's creamed corn.
Also, I put creamed corn on Ollie's head.
That was a funny joke, I think. Only no one even laughed.
Mother took my mitts away.
She said that is not what mitts are for, young lady.
At first, I thought I was in very big trouble. But more good news!
When Mother and Daddy tucked me in bed that night, they gave me back my permission slip. And hurray! It was signed!
“We're going to let you help in the kitchen,” said Mother. “But no more funny business with the mitts. Got
it?”
“Got it,” I said.
“A helper doesn't make things more difficult, Junie B.,” said Daddy. “A helper makes things easier. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said.
Mother made her eyes real serious. “And a helper is not the boss, Junie B.,” she said. “Maybe you should try repeating that one. A helper is not the boss.”
I repeated it.
“A helper is not the boss,” I said. “A helper is not the boss.”
After that, Mother and Daddy looked calmer. They kissed me good night and turned off my light.
I repeated it one more time.
“A helper is not the boss,” I said.
Then I closed my eyes.
And I went to sleep.
And I dreamed I was the boss.
It was the funnest dream I ever had.
I looked exactly like Mrs. Gutzman. Except I had my own face.
Also, I had my own apron. And my own plastic mitts. And my very own hair net.
I was a vision, I tell you!
I worked my hardest in the kitchen.
I washed all the carrots. And I made all the hoagies. Plus also, I ate all the sugar cookies.
After a while, Room One came into the kitchen with their trays.
The children saw how hard I was working.
They called me “Boss of Lunch.” And they skipped around me in a happy circle.
After that, they carried me all around on their shoulders.
May did not participate.
I waved at her when I went by.
Then a duck flew in and chased her out of the room.
That morning, I woke up laughing in my pillow.
And guess what else? At school, my day kept on getting better and better. Because I gave Mr. Scary my permission slip. And he let me go to the cafeteria at ten o'clock A.M.! And so I hardly even did much work!
Mrs. Gutzman was delighted to see me again.
She said I could start helping her very soon. But first she wanted to show me around the kitchen.
It was the hugest kitchen I ever even saw.
It was a kitchen a giant would have.
“Look at how big everything is, Mrs. Gutzman,” I said. “Look at that big dishwasher over there. And look at those big refrigerators! And whoa! Look at those big sinks! And that big giant freezer!”
I kept looking. “And look at that big can opener. And look at this big floor we're standing on. And look at these big walls. And that big light switch. And those big—”
Mrs. Gutzman interrupted me.
“Okay, let's move on, shall we?” she said. “I'd like you to meet some of the other folks who work here, Junie B.”
After that, she took me over and introduced me to six grownups.
I waved at those people kind of shy.
They waved back. Plus also, they said “welcome.”
But here is the bestest part of all! After I met all the people, Mrs. Gutzman opened a big drawer. And she handed me a giant white apron!
My mouth fell open at that hugie thing!
“You mean I get to wear this, Mrs. Gutzman?” I said. “I get to wear an apron just like yours? Wowie wow wow! This is my dream come true!”
Mrs. Gutzman winked at me.
“Well, we sure don't want you to mess up that pretty flowered dress of yours, do we?” she said.
After that, she pulled the apron over my head. And she tied the straps around me.
I looked down to the ground. The apron came down to my shoes, almost.
I twirled and twirled all around.
“Oooh! I love this apron, Mrs. Gutzman!” I said. “This apron makes me feel like a princess!”
Mrs. Gutzman said I had a good imagination.
After that, I put on my mitts that she had given me. And I twirled some more.
“Now I have the whole complete outfit, practically!” I said real happy.
And then, what do you know? All of a sudden, Mrs. Gutzman reached into her apron. And she pulled out a hair net!
A hair net just for me!
She put it on my head.
“Oh boy! Oh boy! Thank you, Mrs. Gutzman! Thank you!” I squealed.
Then I zoomed to the oven and stared at myself in the glass.
“Look at me! Just look at me! I look like a real professional lunch maker!” I said.
After that, I stared and stared at myself some more.
And I couldn't even stop.
Pretty soon, Mrs. Gutzman told me all about my jobs.
“You're going to have three fun jobs today, Junie B.,” she said. “I think you're going to like all of them.”
She took me to the long counter where the children push their lunch trays. And she showed me where the napkins go.
“Your first job will be to keep napkins stacked up right here on the countertop. If the napkin piles start to run out, just reach under the counter and get more. Okay? Do you think you can do that for me, Junie B.?”
I nodded real fast. “Yes!” I said. “I know I can do that, Mrs. Gutzman! ’Cause I'm already familiar with napkins!”
I smiled real proud. “I use napkins at my very own house,” I said. “I use them to wipe my mouth after dinner. Plus sometimes, I use my sleeve.”
Mrs. Gutzman looked funny at me.
After that, she handed me a sponge and took me to the counter by the sinks.
“Okay. Your second job will be to keep this big counter wiped off,” she said. “You don't have to clean any big messes, Junie B. Just wipe up any little spills or crumbs you see.”
I grinned real big.
“Sponges are another job I am good at, Mrs. Gutzman,” I said. “’Cause one time in kindergarten, I practiced throwing sponges in my toilet. And I didn't even miss the pot, hardly.”
Mrs. Gutzman's face went kind of pale.
“Oh,” she said. “Oh my.”
After that, her voice sounded a little bit worried.
“Well, uh … there's just one more job I need to tell you about,” she said. “Do you see that door over there? That's where the children come in the kitchen to get their lunches.”
“Yes,” I said. “I see it.”
“Well—when you're not busy with your other jobs—I'd like you to be our lunch greeter,” she said. “Do you know what a greeter is, Junie B.? A greeter smiles at people and says hello. Do you think you could do that?”
This time, I didn't answer her right away. ’Cause that job made my stomach feel jumpy inside.
“Yeah, only there's children who I don't even know at this school, Mrs. Gutzman,” I said kind of shaky. “And some of them are big kids. And big kids are not my favorite size.”
Mrs. Gutzman did a chuckle.
“Don't worry, Junie B. I think you'll find there are lots of very nice big kids at this school,” she said. “Could you just give it a try, please?”
I shrugged my shoulders kind of weakish.
“I don't know … maybe I could,” I said.
Mrs. Gutzman gave me a pat. “That's the spirit,” she said. “Now there's just one other thing we need to talk about before you get started.”
Then guess what? She reached under the counter. And she gave me another pair of mitts.
I quick held up my hands for her to see.
“But I'm already wearing mitts, Mrs. Gutzman. See them? You already gave them to me yesterday.”
“I know. But these are brand-new ones, Junie B.,” she said. “Around here, we change our plastic mitts quite often. That's how we keep from spreading germs. We're constantly washing our hands and changing our mitts.”
I scratched my head.
“No kidding,” I said. “Really? You mean I'm supposed to wash my hands, plus wear mitts? My, my. That's a lot of hygiene, isn't it?”
Mrs. Gutzman did a teensy frown.
Then she took me to the sink. And she washed my hands real good.
After they were dry, she put the new mitts on me.
“Whoa. These are the cleanest
hands I ever saw,” I said.
After that, I skipped back to the counter. And I began stacking napkins.
Pretty soon, the kitchen started getting smells in it.
I sniffed the air.
The smells were not delicious.
“P.U.,” I said kind of quiet.
Mrs. Gutzman looked over at me.
I held my nose.
“I smell stinkle,” I said.
Mrs. Gutzman did not look happy. “Holding your nose isn't sanitary, Junie B. Now you'll have to change your mitts again.”
I kept on holding my nose.
“Yes, but if I let go of my nose, the stinkle will get in my nostrils,” I explained. “And that smell is not delightful.”
Mrs. Gutzman looked annoyed at me.
“What you're smelling is our lunch today, Junie B.,” she said. “We're baking tuna noodle casserole. We're going to be serving it with carrots and peas.”
I made a sick face.
“Bluck,” I said. “I hate peas. It's a good thing I brought my lunch today. Right, Mrs. Gutzman? At least now I will get a decent meal.”
Mrs. Gutzman still looked grumpity.
She came over and changed my mitts.
After that, I stacked more napkins.
And I tried to just breathe through my mouth.
Being a helper is not a breeze.
After the lunch bell rang, big kids started coming into the kitchen.
Two of them pointed at my hair net.
They called me the name of Freak-a-zoid.
I felt very crumbling inside. “Now I'm not even going to greet you,” I said real quiet.
After that, I tattletaled to Mrs. Gutzman. And she grouched at those boys. Plus also, she said I didn't have to greet people.
Instead, she said I could sponge the counter.
I hurried over there my fastest.
Then I sponged and sponged until the big kids were gone.
Pretty soon, I looked at the door again.
And guess what?
I saw my friends from Room One!
I saw Herb and Lennie and José and Shirley and Roger! They were at the counter with their trays!
I ran over to them speedy quick.
“Hello, everyone! Hello! Hello! Look at me! See me working in here? I am being a helper! See?” I said.