She pointed her toe at the finish line, just itch-itch-itching to run. Excitement prickled down her arms and tickled the back of her neck. Judy looked down at her sneakers and imagined they had wings.
At last, Mr. Todd raised his hand in the air. “On your mark, get set, go!”
They were off! Judy stayed neck and neck with FrankenSlime on the first half of the first lap. Chewbacca and a couple of turkeys got ahead of her. She told herself it was okay to get a little behind. She told herself to save her energy for the last lap.
Halfway around the track, Judy tried to think of fast things. Race cars. Roller coasters. Roadrunners. She imagined she was a bolt of lightning. She imagined she was Mercury, with wings on his feet. She imagined she was Supergirl, faster than the speed of light.
On the second lap around the track, she had her get-up-and-go-go working. She did not see Mom and Dad waving from the crowd. She did not see Jessica Finch making funny faces. She did not hear Mr. Todd cheering his third-graders on.
She was flying! She, Judy Moody, was a mean, green-and-orange-footed flying machine.
There was no stopping her now. She was out in front of Rocky and Frank. She left two pirates, one princess, and one hockey player in the dust. And she had almost caught up with Chewbacca.
Then, out of nowhere, just as Judy was rounding the bend, something ran out onto the track. Something pink, something plump. Something porcine in a Pilgrim costume. Something pig.
Mary Had a Little Piggy! It was PeeGee WeeGee. He had run right smack-dab out into the middle of the race. That little piggy went wee, wee, wee, wee all the way down the track.
All of a sudden, PeeGee stopped. A pirate tripped over that pig. A princess flipped over that pig. PeeGee sniffed the air. PeeGee tore off after Judy.
The crowd was yelling now. “Look out!”
“Pig on the loose!”
“Catch that pig!”
PeeGee zigged and zagged across the track. That squealing ball of pig cut right in front of Judy. She zoomed after him. “PeeGee! Come back here, you little oinker!” Sarah J. Hale to the rescue!
PeeGee ran pig-fast. PeeGee ran figure eights around Judy. He knocked over one, two, three orange traffic cones.
Judy burned rubber. She chased after that pig like it was a greased-pig-chasing contest. She chased after that pig like greased lightning. Her Pilgrim hat flew off. Her hair came out of its Sarah J. Hale sausage-roll curls. The shoe buckles took wing — right off of her sneakers.
But Judy kept on running. She ran right past Pie Crust and left Chewy in the dust.
PeeGee crossed the finish line. Judy was right at his heels. She reached out and quick-as-a-thief grabbed that little piggy.
The crowd went hog wild. They chanted “PeeGee! PeeGee!” Then Judy heard another chant.
“Ju-dy! Ju-dy!” She broke out into a grin. PeeGee may have crossed the finish line first, but she, Judy Moody, was the human-being winner of the Turkey Trot! For real and absolute positive!
Jessica Finch came running up to Judy. “Sorry about PeeGee,” she said. “When he saw you run past, he squirmed right out of my arms.”
“Are you kidding?” said Judy, handing over PeeGee. “He saved my bacon. I might not have won the Turkey Trot without him.” She glanced around. “Want to know a secret? I wished on a wishbone that I’d win the race, and this little piggy helped my wish come true. Pig’s honor!” Wait till she told Stink that the puny chicken wishbone had worked after all.
“Sweet,” said Jessica, scratching PeeGee behind his ears.
“And I promised my Grandma Lou I’d bring the turkey.” Judy rubbed noses with PeeGee. “So you could say this guy helped me save Thanksgiving.”
Just then, Stink came running up to Judy. “I won! I won, I won, I won!”
Judy couldn’t help laughing. “What did you win, Stink?”
“My race. The Stuffing Strut.”
“What prize did you win?” Judy asked.
“Nothing.”
“C’mon, Stink. You must have won something.”
“Okay, but don’t laugh.” He held up a bag. A plastic bag full of boring-old hard, stale bread cubes.
“Stuffing!” Judy said, trying to sound excited. “That’s great!”
Stink peered at the bag again. “It is?”
“I know it looks crummy, Stink —”
“It is crummy. It’s crumbs. Stale old bread crumbs.”
“But Grandma Lou will make it into yummy-not-crummy stuffing, I promise. C’mon, Stink. Let’s go get the big kahuna. The Turkeypalooza.”
“Huh?”
“My prize for winning the Turkey Trot. The Thanksgiving turkey. Here comes Mr. Todd now.” Rocky and Frank held one end of a cooler, and Mr. Todd was holding the other. They plunked the cooler on the ground. Mr. Todd lifted the lid. Judy and Stink leaned over and peered at . . . a fifteen-pound freaky frozen hunk of . . . football?
Something was wrong. Way wrong. This was not what she, Judy Moody, had wished for. A freaky frozen football wrapped in plastic was no-way, no-how, not her wishbone wish!
“Is it a frozen football?” Judy asked Mr. Todd.
“It’s Frosty the Snow Turkey!” Stink said.
“I know it doesn’t exactly look like Tom Terrific,” said Mr. Todd, “but it’s still a turkey.”
“Turkeys are brown and juicy,” said Judy, “not pale and goose-bumpy.”
“And they smell good,” said Stink. “And they have gravy.”
“This bird just isn’t cooked yet,” said Mr. Todd. “It’ll be brown and juicy and smell good once it’s roasted. You’ll see.”
“What about the gravy?” asked Stink.
“C’mon, Stink. Grandma Lou will know what to do,” said Judy, lugging the cooler to the car with Stink.
Judy and Stink said their thank-yous. Judy and Stink said their good-byes. “Happy Franksgiving!” Judy called to her friends.
Judy scooped up her a-maize-ing diorama from the display table. Soon the Moodys were loaded into the car, turkey and all. At last, Judy and Stink were on their way to Grandma Lou’s house. Thanksgiving, here we come!
“Over the river and through the woods, to Grandma Lou’s we go. . . .”
Judy and Stink were in a silly Happy-Thanksgiving-y mood. They sat in the backseat, singing at the top of their lungs, the cooler of turkey between them.
Judy looked at the cooler. “I can almost smell that turkey,” she said. “Crispy on the outside. Juicy on the inside.”
“Ahh, the smell of Thanksgiving,” said Stink.
They played car games to take their minds off of turkey. Soon Stink felt carsick. They stopped to get fresh air. They stopped when the bridge opened. They stopped for Dad to get coffee. They stopped for Mom to gaze at a blue heron.
Stink stuck his head up into the front seat. “Are we there yet?” he asked. Cr-runch! He stepped on a shoe box.
“Hey!” Judy cried. “That’s my diorama.” She yanked the box out from under Stink’s feet. “Mom! Dad! Bigfoot here just wrecked my diorama! I brought it for Grandma Lou to use as a Thanksgiving centerpiece.”
She turned to Stink. “For a short person, you sure have big feet.” Stink made a face. Judy made a face back. “Hand over my wishbone collection, too, before you wreck that.”
Stink pointed to his Snappos motorcycle in the pocket of the door on Judy’s side. “Then give me my motorcycle. I brought it to show Grandma Lou.”
“Judy. Stink. What happened to that peace treaty of yours?” Mom asked.
“No fighting on Thanksgiving, kids,” said Dad. “We’re almost there.”
“You said that a half hour ago,” said Stink. But they had already passed Mt. Trashmore. Just then, Stink saw the giant gorilla in a Hawaiian shirt at the entrance to Ocean Breeze.
“Hugh Mongous!” Judy and Stink called out at the same time. That meant they were almost there.
They cracked up. “Jinx. You owe me . . . Jell-O,” said Stink.
“You owe m
e one not-smushed Thanksgiving centerpiece,” said Judy.
“We’re here!” Dad called, pulling into the driveway.
Judy and Stink bounded out of the car. Pugsy, Grandma Lou’s pug, ran out to meet them. He jumped on them. He licked Judy and Stink up and down and all over. Grandma Lou gave everybody Happy-Thanksgiving hugs.
Mom and Dad carried the cooler into the kitchen. Everyone, including Pugsy, piled in after them.
Stink sniffed the air. “Mmm. I can already smell that turkey!” said Stink.
“Yes, let’s see that turkey of yours, Judy,” said Grandma Lou.
Judy flipped up the latch on the cooler. She flipped up the second latch. Carefully, she lifted the lid. “Ta da! Presenting . . . Tom Terrific!”
“Uh-oh,” said Mom and Dad.
“Uh-oh,” said Grandma Lou.
“What-oh?” asked Judy.
Grandma Lou wrinkled her forehead. She ummed and hmmed a lot. She poked the turkey a few times with her finger. Dad lifted the bird so they could peek underneath.
“This could take hours to thaw,” said Grandma Lou.
“Oh, no,” Judy groaned.
“Plus . . . at least four more hours to roast.”
“Nuh-uh,” Stink moaned.
“That would put Thanksgiving dinner at about midnight!”
“Rare!” said Judy.
“Cool!” said Stink.
“That’s too late,” said Mom. “We don’t want Grandma Lou up cooking till the middle of the night.”
“We’d all be in a fowl mood by then,” said Dad. Everybody cracked up.
“The turkey at the White House got a presidential pardon! We’ll just have to give Tom Terrific a pardon, too,” said Stink.
“I think it’s a little late for Tom Terrific here,” said Dad.
“Sorry, Grandma Lou,” Judy said. “I practiced really hard so I could win the turkey and —”
“She did!” said Stink. “She jumped rope and gave up sugar and junk food and everything.”
“I just didn’t think it would be frozen.”
“Worse than Antarctica!” said Stink.
“And I made you promise not to get a backup turkey and everything.”
“But I asked Grandma Lou to get a backup turkey, just in case,” said Stink. He turned to Grandma Lou. “You did get a backup turkey, right?”
Grandma Lou shook her head no.
“Sorry I ruined Thanksgiving,” Judy said.
Grandma Lou put her arm around Judy. “You didn’t ruin Thanksgiving, Pickle. The important thing is that we’re all together.”
Dad wrestled the turkey into the fridge.
“Besides,” said Grandma Lou, “this turkey will be defrosted by tomorrow. We can roast it and eat it then. It’ll be like having two Thanksgivings.”
“Wow! Two Thanksgivings!” said Stink. “Instead of leftovers tomorrow, we’ll have firstovers.”
“But what about today?” Judy asked.
Stink ran over to his backpack and pulled out the bag of bread crumbs. “We have stuffing!” said Stink. “I won it in the Stuffing Strut.”
“Perfect,” said Grandma Lou. “And I have mashed potatoes and green beans and cranberry sauce. Now all we need is a main dish.”
“Peanut butter and jelly?” asked Stink.
“Tuna fish?” asked Mom.
“Grandma Lou’s famous spaghetti pie?” asked Dad.
Judy frowned. “But it’s just not Thanksgiving without turkey.”
Grandma Lou wagged a finger at Judy. “You just gave me an idea. Maybe we can save Thanksgiving after all.”
Grandma Lou rushed over to the fridge. She searched the top shelf. She searched the bottom shelf. She searched behind tubs of yogurt and jars of pickles.
“Ta da!” said Grandma Lou. She held up a package of . . .
“Hot dogs?” said Judy.
“Hot dogs?” said Stink.
“Not just any old hot dogs,” said Grandma Lou. “Turkey hot dogs!”
“Turkey?” said Judy.
“Turkey?” said Stink.
“Turkey franks!” said Grandma Lou. “We can grill them up, slap them on a bun, add a little stuffing and cranberry sauce for Thanksgiving flair. What do you think?”
“Genius!” said Judy, nodding.
“And guess what,” said Stink. “They didn’t even eat turkey at the first Thanksgiving.”
“Really?” said Grandma Lou. “Then what did they have?”
“Corn. And beans and squash.”
“I have beans. But I don’t have any corn or squash,” said Grandma Lou.
“Not even a cornucopia?” asked Judy.
“We could make popcorn,” said Stink. “Popcorn is corn.”
Judy dashed to the front room and came back with her diorama. “And I brought a squashed centerpiece,” said Judy. “This could be our squash!”
The whole family laughed their heads off.
Judy turned the shoe box to show Grandma Lou. “This is a diorama of the moment when Sarah Josepha Hale —”
“Invented Thanksgiving!” said Stink.
Judy pointed to the acorn people. “See? This is Sarah J. and this is Abraham Lincoln. She sent him a letter saying that Thanksgiving should be a holiday.”
“Creative,” said Grandma Lou. “Let’s put this on the table. Very inspiring centerpiece, Judy!”
Judy beamed. Stink ran and got his motorcycle made of 253 Snappos. He added it to the centerpiece. “Stink,” said Judy, “I don’t think they had motorcycles at the first Thanksgiving.”
Dad grilled the turkey dogs. Grandma Lou made stuffing and green beans. Mom mashed the potatoes. Last but not least, Judy and Stink put out the popcorn.
In no time, the Moodys sat down to Thanksgiving dinner. The room got quiet as they munched away on turkey dogs.
“Turkey dogs are good,” said Stink.
“A-maize-ing!” said Judy, taking a big bite.
“Nothing beats good old beans and franks,” said Dad.
“Happy Franksgiving!” Judy said. Stink almost spit out his turkey dog.
“Now let’s each say something we’re thankful for,” said Judy.
“Great idea,” said Grandma Lou. They went around the table. Grandma Lou and Mom and Dad said they were thankful for mushy stuff (family) and boring stuff (health).
Then it was Judy’s turn. “I’m thankful to Sarah Josepha Hale for inventing Thanksgiving. And I’m thankful that my wishbone wish came true. I mean, especially since it was just a puny old chicken wishbone.”
“That’s two thankfuls,” said Stink. “Do I get two, too?”
“Sure,” said Grandma Lou.
“I’m thankful I’m not a turkey,” said Stink.
“Who said you’re not a turkey?” Judy teased.
The room got quiet again. “Stink, we’re waiting,” said Judy. “What’s your second thankful? Thankful Number Two.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m thankful that Judy brought her entire wishbone collection. Because . . . what would Thanksgiving be without a wishbone?” He elbowed Judy. “Hint, hint.”
“No way, Stinker,” said Judy.
Stink ran and grabbed the shoe box full of wishbones anyway. He held it out to Judy. “I’m thankful that Judy is going to let me make a wish on one of her for-real turkey wishbones.”
“Okay, okay!” said Judy. She reached in and pulled out a beauty. A real turkey-not-chicken wishbone.
Judy held on to one end of the wishbone. She closed her eyes. Stink took hold of the other end.
“Make a wish, Stink,” said Judy.
Judy made a wishbone wish, secretly and to herself. Stink closed his eyes and made a wish, too.
SNAP!
“I win!” yelled Stink. “I got the bigger half. I win, I win, I win.”
“What did you wish for, Stink?”
“I wished that I’d win the wishbone wish.”
“That’s not a real wish, Stink.”
“Ya-huh! It already came true.
I won, didn’t I?” He zoomed around the room. Mom, Dad, and Grandma Lou couldn’t help laughing.
“This is the best first Thanksgiving ever!” said Stink.
“For your information, Stink, the first Thanksgiving was in 1621,” Judy told him.
“I know, but this is our first of two Thanksgivings. We get to have our second Thanksgiving tomorrow. Right, Grandma Lou?”
“Right!” said Grandma Lou.
“Everybody knows that two Thanksgivings are better than one,” said Judy.
Sarah J. loved to read when she was a child. Even when she grew up, she read for TWO HOURS every single night, from 8:00 to 10:00 P.M.
Think the word underwear is embarrassing? So did Sarah J., so she popularized use of the word lingerie to refer to undergarments instead. Ooh-la-la!
When Thomas Edison invented the phonograph, the first human speech he ever recorded was someone reciting the opening lines of “Mary’s Lamb,” a poem that Sarah J. had written. (By the way, that rhyme is now called “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” Maybe you’ve heard of it?)
Next time you swing on a swing or slide down a slide, you can thank Sarah J. She was the one who came up with the idea of playgrounds for kids.
Sarah J. believed in education and exercise for girls. Things she did NOT believe in:
fancy clothes
spanking
eating pie for breakfast
Same-same! Just like Judy Moody, Sarah J. was a big supporter of Elizabeth Blackwell, First Woman Doctor, and her right to attend medical school.
Sarah J. was the first woman magazine editor in America.
Sarah J. was friends with Lydia Maria Child, the person who wrote “Over the River and Through the Wood,” the most famous American Thanksgiving poem ever!
Sarah J. wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. She wrote letters to presidents Zachary Taylor, Millard Fillmore, Franklin Pierce, and James Buchanan, asking each of them to declare a Thanksgiving holiday. They said No, No, No, and No. She didn’t give up! On September 28, 1863, Sarah J. wrote a letter to President Abraham Lincoln asking him to proclaim the last Thursday in November as an annual national day of Thanksgiving. He said Yes! Don’t believe it? You can read the for-real letter that Sarah wrote to President Lincoln at the Library of Congress (loc.gov).