Dory Fantasmagory: Tiny Tough Read online

  “Uh-huh,” I say.

  “They say, ‘Lower down the cheese and crackers!’” says Violet.

  “They do?” I ask.

  “Yup. And wanna know what they say when they are really happy, like if they found a big treasure or something?” asks Luke.

  “What?” I say.

  “Ahoy, my big buttocks!” says Luke.

  “More! Teach me more!” I say.

  “Well, they never actually say ‘walk the plank.’ Someone just made that up. What they really say is, ‘Spank the fishies!’”

  “And you know about the pirate dance moves,” asks Violet. “Right?”

  “No.” I shake my head.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you,” says Violet. “This is what pirates do when they want to look extra tough. It’s called the Macarena. Just follow me.”

  On the walk to school, I collect treasures in my treasure box.

  I see a sparkly treasure and try to pick it up.

  But when I get to school, nobody knows I’m a pirate.

  My teacher says, “That’s an interesting outfit, Dory.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “I like your shirt . . . but not your skirt.”

  I have two best friends in my class. George and Rosabelle. I used to sit in between them, but my teacher said we talked too much, so she moved me next to Albert.

  Albert and I fight every day because he is The Eraser Thief. Any time I have an eraser from home, he tries to steal it. But not today! Because I licked my eraser so he wouldn’t take it. He got so mad at me, he said that my bandana makes me look like a camel. I don’t even care one bit about looking like a camel!

  Albert always says “This is so easy!” about everything. I hate when he says that! “This is so easy!” he says about our math problem. “The answer is 12.”

  “There are infinity answers,” I tell him.

  “You’re wrong,” he says.

  “Nope, I’m right,” I say.

  After math, just as we are getting ready for reading, there’s a loud crash in the classroom. “That was fun!” says George. Because that’s what he always says when he gets hurt. But this time he bursts into tears.

  “I bumped my head,” he cries. “Ouch!”

  “How did you trip, George?” asks the teacher.

  “Look! His shoelaces are tied together!” says Rosabelle.

  Rosabelle unties his laces but it takes a long time. “I’m trying!” she says. “But he triple knotted them!”

  “That is not at all safe, George. Please don’t ever do that again,” says the teacher. “Dory, you can take George to the nurse.”

  The nurse asks George a bunch of questions. Then she tells him to lie down.

  To get George to stop crying, I talk like a pirate.

  I guess George isn’t in the mood for pirates, because he just looks confused and keeps crying.

  So I tell him all about TubTown, The Most Amazing Bath Toy Ever Invented. Finally, he stops crying! He wipes his tears and says, “I really really really want you to get TubTown.” George is the greatest friend on earth. When I feel this way, I like to tickle him.

  “Raise your hand if you really want me to get TubTown!”

  When George is laughing, I notice his toes wiggling out of his socks. His sock has a hole so big that I can see two and a half toes.

  “Hey, can I have that sock?”

  “Sure, I don’t need it,” he says, and takes it off.

  I smell it first—it doesn’t smell too bad for a sock. Actually, it smells kind of good. Like French toast.

  I put the sock on my arm and stick my fingers right through the hole to make a cast. “Do I look like I broke my arm in a pirate fight?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” he says. “You look tough!”

  “Stuff it with tissues to make it thicker,” says George.

  As I’m stuffing my cast with tissues, I hear a familiar voice at the water fountain right outside. It’s Anna! And Hazel, Violet’s other friend.

  “I brought my string so we can make more friendship bracelets at recess,” says Anna.

  “I brought mine too!” says Hazel.

  I stare at the friendship bracelets on their wrists.

  “What if Violet finds out about the sleepover tomorrow night?” asks Hazel. Violet? They’re talking about Violet! I listen harder.

  “I’ll feel really bad if she finds out,” says Anna. “I’ve never had a sleepover without her . . . maybe we should invite her?”

  “No! Don’t worry, she won’t find out!” says Hazel. “Wanna be partners on the next class trip?”

  “Sure,” says Anna.

  They walk away and I can’t hear them anymore.

  “I gotta go,” I tell George. Then I run out of the nurse’s office and sneak up the back stairs to the big kids’ hallway.

  “Excuse me. Can I talk to Violet?” I ask Violet’s teacher. “I live in the same house as her.”

  Violet doesn’t look happy. “Why do you have a sock on your arm?” she asks.

  “George said I could have it. Smell it—it smells like French toast!”

  “No,” she says, “I’m not smelling it. What are you doing in my classroom?”

  “I need to tell you something . . .” I whisper. “I was at the nurse’s office and I . . . I . . . um . . . heard . . . Aaa—Aaa . . .” Then I think, if I tell Violet what I heard about the sleepover, she might cry. And if Violet cries, I’ll cry.

  “Heard what?” she asks impatiently.

  “I heard . . . a loud crack,” I whisper.

  “Huh?”

  “My arm bone,” I say, pointing to my cast.

  “Why are you lying? Do you want me to tell mom that you are lying again?”

  “Wait—” I don’t want her to walk away. But for the first time in my whole life, I don’t know what to say. “Um . . . um . . .” And then I say, “Breakfast was really good this morning, don’t you think?”

  “Rascal! Are those clothes making you act weirder than usual? What do you want?”

  “I . . . I . . . need to ask you a very important question,” I say.

  “Okay—what?” she says.

  I look down at my sneakers and ask the first question that pops into my head. “You know the old lady who lives in the shoe?” I ask her.

  “The nursery rhyme?”

  “Yeah. Is the lady really small . . . or is the shoe really big, because I never understood, which one is it?”

  “THAT’S what you wanted to ask me?! Get out of here, Rascal!”

  CHAPTER 3

  Starletta

  After school, I pull off my bandana and yell at my mom, “Why did you let me wear these dumb, hot, scratchy clothes? Nobody knew I was a pirate! Everybody kept looking at me!”

  My mom opens my backpack. “Don’t tell me you lost your lunchbox again,” she says.

  “I did? Oh NO!” I cry. “It was full of all my treasures! Now they’re gone!”

  “Dory, you can’t keep losing your lunchbox! You have to start keeping track of your stuff. That’s part of growing up.”

  “I’m not growing! It’s not even my birthday! It’s never my birthday!” I pick up George’s sock from the floor and throw it as hard as I can. I didn’t know it was going to hit my mom’s neck.

  “That’s it, Rascal! Go to your room,” she says. “I need a break from you.”

  “I just got home!” I cry.

  At least I always have Mary.

  But as soon as I walk in my room, Mary grabs a banana to call Mr. Nuggy. “Rascal is covered in bumps! Come quick!!!” she yells.

  What? I am?

  “Mary!” I yell at her. “No I’m not! Why’d you say I’m covered in bumps? Why’d you prank call Mr. Nuggy?”

  I grab the banana. “Hi, Mr. Nuggy, s
orry about that—it’s not really an emergency . . . there are no bumps. No bumps! Hello? . . . Hello? Are you there?”

  I guess he already hung up.

  Mr. Nuggy usually arrives pretty quickly after I call him.

  “Who are you?” I ask.

  “I’m Starletta,” she says.

  “What are you doing here? This doesn’t make any sense. I didn’t imagine you.”

  “Mary did,” says Starletta.

  “Mary!?”

  “Stop jumping and listen to me! I imagine stuff and you go along with it! That’s how this works!”

  “I want my own imagination,” Mary says. “You always get to imagine everything—and you’re kinda bossy sometimes . . .”

  “But I’m your best friend,” I say.

  “I know. But she’s my wish come true . . .”

  “What’s so great about her?” I ask.

  “I don’t know yet . . . but I like how she looks like she always wants a hug,” says Mary.

  “Wait a minute—where is Mr. Nuggy?” I ask Starletta. “Why did you answer his phone?”

  “Oh, I was just floating around the sky, and I heard it ringing and ringing and ringing, so I answered.”

  “Hmmmm . . . that’s strange,” I say. “Where could he be this time?”

  “So, who wants to go on an island vacation with me?” asks Starletta.

  “An island vacation? Yes! Yes! I want to!” says Mary. “Let’s go!” she says to me.

  “NO WAY!” I say. “I’m NOT coming!”

  “Why not?” asks Mary. “You have to come!”

  “Because you and me are a two-person game, that’s why!”

  “But we can all be friends together,” says Mary. “All three of us!”

  I think of Violet and Anna and Hazel. “No, we definitely CANNOT!” I tell her.

  That’s when I remember . . . the brownie! I saved a brownie from school to cheer up Violet. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

  I run to Violet’s room.

  “Ouch. That hurt.”

  Violet is holding her doll Cherry. I thought she didn’t care about Cherry anymore? And she’s crying. It’s not loud crying like I cry. It’s quiet crying, like Snow White. Snow White Crying is much sadder than my crying. I wonder if she knows about the secret sleepover?

  “I didn’t find your treasure . . .” I tell Violet. “But there was a birthday in my class today and guess what? We had brownies! And I saved mine for you! And it was the biggest!”

  “Really?” she says, wiping her tears. “You did? Where is it?”

  I try and get it out of my pocket, but it’s extra gooey and kind of melted and sort of crumbly.

  “It’s in your pocket? Yuck!” says Violet. “GET OUT OF MY ROOM NOW!”

  When I see Luke in the hallway, he looks at me and then starts screaming at the top of his lungs. “MOM!!! RASCAL HAS POOP ALL OVER HER HANDS! HURRY! I’M NOT LYING! SHE’S HOLDING POOP!”

  “It was a brownie for Violet,” I say, licking my fingers.

  “Wash your hands,” says my mom. “Actually, just take a bath. When was the last time you took a bath anyway?” I follow my mom around, crying.

  “Rascal! I cannot get it! We’ve already discussed this many times! It’s too old.”

  “Then let’s just ask old people! They’ll know! Where did all the TubTowns go?”

  “People threw them away, they broke, some people probably still have theirs. But we can’t buy it.”

  “People threw them away? They threw TubTown in the garbage? I don’t believe you! Nobody did that!”

  “Rascal, I’m done with this conversation. Get in the bath. And this time, please remember to take your socks and underwear off BEFORE you get in the bath. Socks and underwear are not body parts.”

  As my mom heads downstairs, I hear the front door open. Then I hear what sounds like a lot of loud and salty pirate boots stomping up the stairs, and my whole house smells like fish.

  They pick me up and carry me out the door.

  “This is so fun, guys, thanks for inviting me, but my family is probably wondering where I am . . .”

  “Your mom said she needs a break from you,” says the big pirate.

  “You lost your lunchbox again, didn’t you?” asks the little pirate.

  “Yeah, so what?”

  “So, now you have to do our chores,” says the hairy pirate.

  “Can I go home and get Mary first?” I ask. “And my nightgown?”

  “Get to work!” yells the little pirate.

  And so I do.

  I have to make the pirates’ dinner,

  wash their feet,

  . . . and walk on their backs.

  Then I have to scrub the decks.

  Is that Mary I see out the window? MY Mary?

  I run to the upper deck.

  She went on vacation without me! And she’s with that pointy-head dumb-dumb?

  Jealousy hits me like a giant wave, dragging me under, spinning me around and around, water up my nose, sand in my eyes. Everything is salty.

  Now I know how Violet feels.

  I wave my hands and yell, “Mary! Mary! Over here! Help!”

  But she is too far away. She doesn’t see me. She can’t hear me.

  “NO! NO! NO!” I cry. “Mary can’t have another friend! I’m the only one!”

  “Looks like even Mary wants a break from you,” says the big pirate.

  “Wow! Nobody wants you!” says the little pirate.

  “EXCEPT ME!” thunders a familiar voice from behind us.

  CHAPTER 4

  Long Bones

  “Mrs. Gobble Gracker! What are you doing here?” I ask her.

  But she doesn’t have time to answer that. One by one, she has to fight each pirate.

  And one by one, she throws them overboard.

  “Time to get out of here!” she says. We jump off the pirate ship into her little getaway boat.

  “Since when are you a pirate?” I ask Mrs. Gobble Gracker.

  “I needed to get out of my cave,” she says. “Since when are you—what are you supposed to be in that outfit? A lawyer?”

  “No! Ugh! I was trying to help Violet find a treasure and—oh, forget it.”

  “Treasure?! That’s what I’m looking for!” says Mrs. Gobble Gracker.

  “What a coincidence,” I say.

  “Don’t say big words,” she says. “Say goo goo ga ga.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause I finally caught you. So that means YOU ARE MY BABY! Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha!”

  Oh brother.

  “Coochie coochie coo,” says Mrs. Gobble Gracker. “We’re going to make a great team!”

  “Maybe we will,” I grumble. “Maybe I’m just as bad as you after all . . .”

  “All this time, I always knew we belonged together,” she says. We get out of the rowboat and climb aboard Mrs. Gobble Gracker’s ship. I recognize Mrs. Gobble Gracker’s helpers from a long time ago.

  “Follow me to the dressing room,” she says, “where we will find your baby pirate outfit.”

  When I come out of the dressing room, Mrs. Gobble Gracker squeals with delight. “You look so cute! And I have the perfect baby pirate name for you. Are you ready?”

  “Presenting . . . my very own: Tiny Tough!” she says.

  “Tiny Tough? Hmmmmm . . . yeah, I kinda like that,” I say.

  For dinner, Mrs. Gobble Gracker feeds me baby food.

  “I haven’t had this in a while. It’s actually pretty good,” I say, and open my mouth wide.

  “Mmmmmmm,” says Mrs. Gobble Gracker, feeding me.

  “So, let me get this straight—you don’t want me to grow up, right?” I ask Mrs. Gobble Gracker. “That means no chores and I can lose all m
y stuff?”

  “That’s right, ’cause you’re my little baby,” says Mrs. Gobble Gracker. “And I love my little baby.”

  “So you’ll always love me . . . no matter what I do?” I ask, and drop my spoon. ’Cause that’s what babies do.

  “I’ll love you forever, no matter what,” she says, and picks up the spoon.

  “But what if you’re dead?” I ask, and drop the spoon.

  “I’ll still love you when I’m dead,” she says, and picks up the spoon.

  “But what if I kill you?” I ask, and drop the spoon.

  “Hee, hee, hee,” I laugh. “Just kidding.”

  After dinner, Mrs. Gobble Gracker says she has a baby monitor for me—so she can always know where I am.

  “Mrs. Gobble Gracker, this is a walkie-talkie,” I tell her. “You know that, right?”

  “Oh, whatever,” she says. “I can’t keep up with all this technology.”

  I teach her some walkie-talkie lingo.

  “What’s your code name?” I ask. “Mine is Tiny Tough, of course.” Mrs. Gobble Gracker picks “Long Bones.”

  “Not a bad choice,” I tell her.

  Mrs. Gobble Gracker holds out her hand . . .

  and I take it.

  On our first adventure together, we sneak up on a ship of rich ocean cats and steal their gold.

  We’re bad. Really bad!

  After that, it was clear. We were a great team.

  I hear my mom yelling, “Rascal! Get out of the bath! What on earth are you doing in there for so long? First you won’t take a bath, then you won’t come out!”