Junie B. Jones Is a Graduation Girl Read online

  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

  “The honesty and inventiveness of this savvy kindergartner make the Junie B. books accessible and completely enjoyable.”

  —School Library Journal

  “Park has a wonderful ear for the dialogue of five-year-olds and an even better grasp of how their minds operate.”

  —Booklist

  “Junie B. Jones is a likable character whose comic mishaps… will elicit laughs from young readers.”

  —The Horn Book Magazine

  “A genuinely funny, easily read story.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  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! (PS. 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 funny books, listed at the end of this book!

  Contents

  1. The Month of Junie

  2. Rhymes

  3. A Good Chuckle

  4. Cats and Gowns

  5. A Million Bucks

  6. Pooped and Thirsty

  7. Juice Driblets

  8. Getting Ready

  9. The Time of My Life

  My name is Junie B. Jones. The B stands for Beatrice. Except I don't like Beatrice. I just like B and that's all.

  I was named after the month of Junie. ’Cause Junie is the month I was born in, of course!

  And wait till you hear this!

  Yesterday, I finally had my birthday!

  AND NOW I AM SIX YEARS OLD!

  That day was like magic, I tell you!

  ’Cause on Saturday night when I went to bed, I was only five years old.

  And the next morning—boom!—I WAS SIX!

  My grandma Helen Miller had a happy-birthday party for me. She invited my mother and daddy and my grampa Frank Miller.

  Also, she invited my baby brother named Ollie. He is seven months old.

  He did not add that much.

  I loved my party a very lot.

  First, I loved my chocolatey cake with white icing. Next, I loved my strawberry ice cream. Plus also, I loved my balloons! And my funny birthday hats. And all my happy-birthday cards!

  But mostly …

  I LOVED MY PRESENTS!

  I got five entire boxes to open. And good news! None of them was clothes.

  Mostly, I got toys and games. Also, I got a tool belt just my size! Plus my grampa Miller gave me my very own plumbing supplies to help fix the toilet!

  But that is not even the end of all my excitement! Because that night—when Mother tucked me into bed—she reminded me that I am graduating from kindergarten on Friday!

  My stomach felt jumpy inside when she said that. I quick counted on my fingers.

  “But Friday is only five more days,” I said.

  I did a gulp. “That event sneaked right up on us, didn't it?” I said kind of nervous.

  Mother hugged me. “You're not worried, are you, Junie B.?” she asked. “Graduation will be fun. I promise. And you're going to love first grade.”

  “But Paulie Allen Puffer says that next year everything will be different,” I said. “He says that first grade won't have the same kids as Room Nine does. And so all of our classmates will be weirdo strangers.”

  Mother did a frown. “No, no, no. That's not true,” she said. “I'm sure you'll know a lot of children in your class next year, Junie B. But even if your best friends aren't in your room, you will still be able to play with them at recess. Right?”

  I nodded my head kind of slow.

  “Yes. I guess so,” I said. “Plus Paulie Allen Puffer says that we will be the boss of all the kindergarten kids. So that will be fun, probably. And also, he says our brains and our feet will double in size.”

  Mother stared at me a real long time. “That Paulie Allen Puffer is a fountain of knowledge,” she said very quiet.

  After that, we talked some more about graduation and first grade.

  And guess what?

  The next day at school, my teacher talked about it even more.

  Her name is Mrs. She has another name, too. But I just like Mrs. and that's all.

  Mrs. clapped her hands real happy.

  “Well, this is it, boys and girls!” she said. “Graduation week is finally here. At seven o'clock on Friday evening, Room Eight and Room Nine will have our graduation ceremony together. And, of course, the children in morning kindergarten will be graduating, too. So every single one of you will receive a diploma!”

  I springed out of my chair very thrilled.

  “A DIPLOMA! A DIPLOMA! I WILL LOVE A DIPLOMA!” I shouted.

  Just then, I did a teensy frown.

  “It's not clothes, correct?” I asked.

  A meanie boy named Jim laughed real loud.

  “Ha! You Gooney Bird Jones! You don't even know what a diploma is,” he said.

  I stamped my foot at that boy.

  “Oh yes, I do too, Jim,” I said. “I know perfectly well what it is. But I am not even the teacher here. And so I will let her explain it to the class.”

  I sat down and smoothed my skirt. Then I pointed to Mrs.

  “Okay, go,” I said.

  Mrs. wrinkled her eyebrows at me. “As I was about to say, a diploma is a very special piece of paper. A diploma is a certificate that says you've completed part of your education. As you go through school, you'll get several diplomas,” she said. “But this one will be your first.”

  I springed up again. “And guess what else, Mrs.? I am not even afraid of first grade anymore! ’Cause I'll be getting big feet and brains!”

  Mrs. said sit down to me. Then she told us more about graduation.

  She said that as a treat for our families, we will be making them special graduation invitations. And so that will be our activity for the day!

&n
bsp; “Yippee!” I said. “I love making invitations, Mrs.! On account of that does not even sound like learning!”

  After that, I clapped and clapped.

  And all of Room Nine clapped with me.

  ’Cause graduation week was starting off like a charm!

  I sat at my table very nice.

  Mrs. passed out colored paper for our invitations.

  Also, she passed out curly ribbon. And lace. And paste. And bottles of sparkly glitter.

  “Just as a reminder,” she said, “we do not paste glitter in our eyebrows. And we do not put lace up our noses. And above all… we do not glue curly ribbon to our heads and pretend that it's long hair.”

  She looked and looked at me.

  I squirmed in my seat a little bit.

  ’Cause that woman has a memory like a hawk, I tell you.

  Finally, Mrs. went to the board. And she picked up her chalk.

  “On the inside of our cards, we're going to write a poem about graduation. Does anyone have any ideas for the first line?”

  My friend named Grace waved her hand all around in the air.

  “Roses are red! Roses are red!” she called out.

  “YES!” hollered Room Nine. “ROSES ARE RED!”

  Mrs. smiled. She wrote it on the board for us.

  “Okay. Now what about the second line?” she asked.

  Room Nine hollered again.

  “VIOLETS ARE BLUE! VIOLETS ARE BLUE! VIOLETS ARE BLUE!”

  Mrs. wrote that line, too.

  “Very good, class,” she said. “Now who can think of the third line? Maybe we should try to mention something about graduation in this one. Does anyone have any ideas?”

  A shy boy named William stood up next to his table.

  “Graduation is here,” he said kind of nervous.

  Mrs. grinned real big. “Excellent job, William! Excellent!”

  She printed it on the board.

  “All right. There's just one more line to go,” she said. “Let's try to make the last word rhyme with the word blue, okay?”

  She read the first three lines out loud to us.

  “Roses are red,

  Violets are blue.

  Graduation is here …”

  Room Nine thought and thought.

  Then—all of a sudden—rhymes started coming from all over the place!

  “My dress will be new!” called Lucille.

  “My dad's name is Lou!” called Jamal Hall.

  “We made it! Woo-boo!” called Lynnie.

  Just then, Paulie Allen Puffer springed right out of his chair. And he started laughing his head off.

  “THE ZOO IS P.U.!” he shouted his loudest.

  And then all of Room Nine laughed our heads off, too! ’Cause P.U. is the silliest rhyme we ever heard of!

  Mrs. clapped her mad hands together. “Boys and girls! That's enough,” she grouched.

  She hurried to Paulie Allen Puffer's table. And she put him back in his seat.

  “I do not appreciate that kind of behavior, young man,” she said. “We're trying to write a nice class poem here, Paulie Allen. And your rhyme was entirely inappropriate.”

  After that, I tried to stop giggling. But that silly poem kept on staying inside my head.

  And then, out of nowhere, another funny poem popped right into my brain! And I couldn't even hold it inside me!

  I quick jumped up on my chair.

  “ROSES ARE RED,

  VIOLETS ARE BLUE.

  GRADUATION IS HERE,

  AND YOUR FEET SMELL LIKE

  STINK!” I shouted.

  After that, Room Nine could not even control themselves again. ’Cause that poem was the funniest thing they ever even heard!

  My teacher's eyes got big and wide at me.

  “Junie B. Jones! Didn't you hear a word I just said?” she said very annoyed.

  Then Mrs. hurried to my table.

  And she took me into the hall.

  And she pointed me straight to the office.

  The office is where Principal lives.

  I know my way there by heart.

  There is a typing lady there, too.

  She looked over the counter at me.

  “Well, well, well. Would you look who it is,” she said.

  I looked down at myself. “Well, well, well. It looks like me,” I said kind of quiet.

  The typing lady pointed at the blue chair.

  The blue chair is where bad kids sit. Only I'm not even bad. But I still have to sit there sometimes.

  I put my feet on the edge of the chair. And I hid my face in my knees.

  If you don't hide your face, people can recognize yourself.

  Finally, I peeked one eye at Principal's door.

  And guess what? That guy was looking right back at me!

  “Is that Junie B. Jones I see out there?” he asked.

  I did a gasp.

  ’Cause Principal can even recognize me from one eyeball, apparently!

  I went into his office. And I sat in the big wood chair.

  Principal winked at me.

  “I'm a little bit surprised to see you, Junie B.,” he said. “You haven't been sent here for quite some time.”

  I nodded.

  “I know it,” I said. “That's because my behavior has shown considerable improvement.”

  I pronounced the words very perfect.

  “My teacher printed those words on my report card,” I said. “And guess what else showed improvement? My speaking, that's what. ’Cause I don't say runned anymore. And I don't say thinked. And I don't say throwed. Do you want to hear me say them right? Huh? Do you, Principal?”

  I took a big breath.

  “Ran, ran, ran, ran. Thought, thought, thought, thought. Threw, threw, threw, threw,” I said.

  I smiled very proud.

  “See? I told you. Mother says I am getting a better vocavulary,” I said.

  “Vocabulary,” said Principal.

  “Whatever,” I said.

  Principal smiled. “Yes. Well, I'm delighted with your improvements, Junie B.,” he said. “But if everything has gotten better, then why are you here?”

  I wiggled in my chair very uncomfortable.

  “Because it wasn't my fault, that's why,” I said.

  “What wasn't your fault?” said Principal.

  I wiggled some more.

  Then, finally, I told Principal about how my teacher made us write a graduation poem. And how she said the last word had to rhyme with blue.

  “And so Paulie Allen Puffer rhymed the word P.U.,” I said. “But then Mrs. got very mad at him. Because she did not appreciate his behavior, young man. Only too bad for me. Because my brain thought of an even sillier poem. And my mouth couldn't hold it inside.”

  Principal closed his eyes. He did some deep breaths.

  “All right,” he said. “Let's hear it.”

  I gulped very worried.

  Then I made my voice real soft.

  “Roses are red,

  Violets are blue.

  Graduation is here …

  And your feet smell like stink,” I said.

  After that, Principal kept his eyes closed a real long time. And he did not say any words.

  Then, very slow, he put his head down on his desk. And he started to laugh.

  His laughing got louder and louder.

  And so guess what? Then I started laughing, too!

  “That poem was a beaut! Right, Principal? We are having ourselves a good chuckle over this, aren't we?”

  Principal stopped laughing very fast. He raised his head again.

  “No, Junie B. No. We are not having a good chuckle,” he said. “I'm sorry. Your poem caught me completely by surprise. But I never should have laughed like that.”

  He crossed his arms at me.

  “You are right about one thing, though,” he said. “Your poem is definitely silly. But silly things are not always appropriate to say in the classroom, are they? Your teacher made it clear
that she didn't like what Paulie Allen had said, Junie B. But you called out your poem anyway.”

  He made squinty eyes. “And please don't blame it on your mouth, okay? You know you could have held it inside.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I don't know,” I said kind of quiet. “Maybe I could have.”

  Principal tapped his fingers on his desk.

  “It's a very serious matter to disobey a teacher, Junie B.,” he said. “And I want you to sit here and think about just how serious it is. Can you do that, please?”

  “Yes,” I said. “l can.”

  After that, I squeezed my eyes real tight. And I thought and thought.

  Finally, I opened my eyes again. “Good news,” I said. “I've said my last stink.”

  Principal nodded his head. “That is good news,” he said.

  Then he stood up. And he held my hand. And he walked me into the hall.

  “It's been an interesting year getting to know you, Junie B. Jones,” he said. “You're a fascinating little girl.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “You are fascinating, too.”

  After that, both of us waved good-bye. And I started skipping back to Room Nine.

  Then, all of a sudden, I stopped. And I spun around.

  “Yeah, only we are not saying good-bye forever. Right, Principal? Right? ’Cause next year, I will get sent down here, too, probably. Or else maybe you and I will see each other on the playground. Right?”

  Principal did a chuckle.

  “Right,” he said.

  “Hurray!” I said. “Hurray! Hurray!”

  Then I turned back around and I skipped to Room Nine my fastest.

  ’Cause maybe if I hurried, I could still sprinkle glitter on something!