Fancy pants, p.1
Fancy Pants, page 1
Dedication
To the real Auntie Anne and Uncle Jeffery: Love you to Wisconsin and back.
—DQ
To all Indigenous little girls who never got to see themselves in storybooks.
—TA
About This Story
Jo Jo lives on a fictional Native American Ojibwe reservation, the Pembina Ojibwe Reservation. A reservation is land under the care of a Native Nation that calls it home. The land now called the United States is home to more than three hundred reservations and over five hundred Tribal Nations. There are many reservations in the United States, but Jo Jo’s is not an actual one. Every reservation has unique and special elements, and Jo Jo’s reservation incorporates many of those found in Ojibwe (and many other Native American) communities.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
About This Story
1: Mail Call
2: Fancy Pants
3: Pie, Oh My!
4: Dance Machine
5: Alphabet Parade
6: Math A-Go-Go
7: Eggs and an Auntie
8: Wedding Ever After
9: Wedding Crasher
Jo Jo’s Glossary
Author’s Note
Editor’s Note
Excerpt from Jo Jo Makoons: The Used-to-Be Friend
About the Author, Illustrator, and Editor
We Need Diverse Books
Books by Dawn Quigley
Copyright
About the Publisher
Mail Call
“Mimi, stay here. You’re too little to cross the street alone. Somebody has to hold your hand. And I need to have empty hands right now,” I said.
It was four o’clock in the afternoon. That meant it was time for me to go get the mail. Getting the mail is my job after I come home from school. Teacher told us there is a law that says kids cannot work until they are teenagers. Mama must not know this. I work a lot, only she calls it “chores” instead of work.
It is very important to be safe when you cross the street. You always need to look both ways.
I live on Eighth Street. This means I need to turn and look side to side eight times before I step into the street.
Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left . . . Right. It is good to hold your arms straight out to balance when you are looking both ways. If you don’t you get can spinny head.
I am very glad I don’t live on 108th Street like my best school friend, Fern. That would hurt my neck. And is a very lot of counting.
“Mama!” I yelled when I got back in the house. “He wrote to you again.”
“Jo Jo, who wrote to me?” Mama asked.
Mama looked at the letters. Bill sends a lot of letters to Mama. Then each month she looks at them all and gives a big puffy-outie breath. Pfffff. Mama’s eyebrows get smushed when she reads his letters. She must not like him.
But she writes back all the time. She even sends him money!
That Bill guy. He writes a lot of letters.
“Mama, are there any letters for me?”
“No. But Jo Jo, do you ever write letters to anyone?” Mama answered.
“Well, last year I wrote one to Mimi when I was sick in bed, but she never wrote back.”
My name is Jo Jo. You can call me Jo Jo. I am seven years old and in the first grade. Which is funny because I never went to zero grade, only kindergarten. I hope they don’t send me back to zero grade. Or maybe I am very smart and I got to skip zero grade.
When I was little, like two years ago, I thought my real big name was “Jo Jo Makoons Azure Get to Your Room!” But that is very silly. Mama only calls me that when I’m in trouble.
My real big name is Josephine Makoons Azure. Moushoom, my grandpa, gave me the name Makoons since when I was a baby I would say, “Grrrr . . . ,” like a growl. My baby hair was short and black—just like a little bear cub! Moushoom died, but I can still hear him when I’m out picking juneberries. It’s a little tickle whisper that kisses my forehead from the wind.
My middle name is Makoons. You say Makoons like this: ma-KOONS.
I like to wear my hair with little bear ears. It is my bear hair. And it is very pretty.
Moushoom means “grandpa” in the Michif language. Michif is one kind of Native American language. It is a language made from words that are Cree, French, and Ojibwe. We speak very many languages on our reservation.
Ojibwe is my Native American tribe. You say it like this: oh-JIB-way. See? Ojibwe. Remember? I’m a member of the Pembina Ojibwe Nation. I live on the Pembina Ojibwe Reservation. I like to learn to speak Ojibwe and Michif.
Moushoom, Grandpa, told me it’s good to know our language. Then, when we speak it, our land will hear us and remember us.
I hope our land remembers that I do not like the zagimeg—mosquitoes.
When I tiptoe around my backyard I say, “Gaawiin zagimeg.” No mosquito. I do it many times because sometimes people don’t listen to me. I think the land will listen to me.
Kokum, Grandma, said the zagimeg like me because I am so sweet. My kokum is very smart. And pretty. And gives me cherry Life Savers when Mama isn’t looking.
After I gave Bill’s letters to Mama, I wanted to go play outside, but saw something sparkly on the kitchen table. It was a very shiny letter. But not from Bill. Bill’s letters are white and not pretty.
“Mama, what is that letter?”
“My girl, which one?” she asked.
“That one.” I lip-pointed to the one with the shiny paper envelope.
“Hmm?” Mama wrinkled her eyes.
I held up the envelope. It was see-through-ish and had glitter on it. You can tell if something is important because it has glitter all over it. Just like unicorn fur.
The envelope is very beautiful. You have to hold pretty things very softly.
Kokum took the letter and opened it. “Finally, it’s Auntie Anne’s wedding invitation!”
I love Auntie Anne! She made my beary cute bedspread. Sewing is how she shows her love. Every night she gives me a blanket hug.
Mama looked at the letter. “It’s from out of state. Not on our Pembina reservation.”
I have been to a wedding here on our reservation. It was very fun. There was an announcement in the newspaper, and everyone brought food to share.
Then Mama gave a low whistle. “Boy, won’t this be a fancy wedding! Wedding, a sit-down dinner, and a dance with a real live band! And it’s so far away! It’s almost a whole day’s drive to get there,” Mama said.
“Eya, yes,” Kokum answered. “And we’re going! It’ll be an adventure.”
“But it will cost so much,” Mama said with her forehead crunched. She does this crunchy forehead a lot when she reads Bill’s letters.
Kokum whispered, “My girl, that’s why I have a rainy-day fund. We’re going!”
I went to the window to see the rain. But it was all sunny. Sometimes I wonder about how my grandma thinks. “No rain here, Kokum!”
“Oh, Jo Jo, ‘saving for a rainy day’ means to keep money for something in the future.”
Like maybe buying more umbrellas?
I just heard the best word: fancy. I know how to do a lot of things. Like jump rope, play with dolls, and spit my peas in my milk glass at dinner so Mama thinks I ate them. That is why I always ask to clear the dishes when we have peas for supper.
But, there’s one thing I don’t know how to do at all. If I’m going to a fancy wedding, I need to learn how to be fancy. I wonder—how do you be fancy?
Fancy Pants
I need to find out how to be fancy. How do you talk and eat fancy? How do you dress fancy? And what do you do at a fancy wedding?
I will need to use my favorite super-special sparkly purple unicorn notebook I got for my birthday from my Auntie Anne. I can learn how to be fancy. It is a notebook for me to write things that are secret. Shiny, sparkly things keep secrets very good. Mimi told me so.
Do you know how to keep a secret? It is very important to only tell secrets to best friends. And a sparkly purple unicorn notebook.
Mimi is my best home friend. I tell her a lot of secrets. Like how to make splash sounds in the bathtub with my hands when I’m supposed to be washing up (so I can just sit and make up stories for Mimi, who sits on the bath rug next to me). Mama keeps saying she can’t figure out why I’m still “ripe” when I take so many baths. It must be because I don’t use soap sometimes when Mama isn’t looking. But Mimi likes my stories. And Mimi doesn’t say I am “ripe.”
I love Mimi.
“Meow-or,” she says when she wants to hear more stories. Mimi is a very good listener. She is very lucky because she can give herself a bath. I have tried to lick my own hands to clean them, too, but Mama says that is not a good idea.
I think it is a cat-tastic idea.
Every Monday morning Mama and Mimi have to remind me that it’s time for school again. I like school, but I wish there was more time for lunch and recess. Those are the good parts.
The bus to school stops in front of my house. My grandma’s job is to walk me to the bus stop. She is a very hard worker. I think she should get a raise.
“My girl,” Kokum said that Monday morning at the bus stop, “remember to be helpful to the little ones on the bus.”
“Yes, Kokum, I always do! I even help get the spitballs out of their hair after Up-Chuck chucks them.”
Up-Chuck is a person in my class. His real name is just Chuck. But I call him Up-Chuck because the first day of kinderg
When Up-Chuck walked to the bus stop just then, Kokum made her squinty eyes at him. And lip-pointed. “My boy, no spit wads.”
I am glad to be helpful when I tell on Up-Chuck. I think he agreed with this because he kept staring at me during the bus ride. Staring means you agree.
I meet my best school friend, Fern, every morning by the water fountain. We hold hands and walk to our classroom together. That is what best school friends do.
“Aaniin, children,” said Teacher.
“Aaniin!” we both said to Teacher as we walked through the classroom door.
Teacher tries very hard to speak our Ojibwe language, but he is not very good. I told this to Mama, but she said I need to be kind to people and not tell them they are bad at things.
Teacher is not good at all at speaking Ojibwe. He tries, so it is okay. Teacher is not Ojibwe. He calls himself “white.” But he really should work on his Ojibwe language skills. They are very poor. I would not give him a sticker.
I wonder if that’s why he stays after school when we leave.
I have to sit with Brie at school sometimes. Brie, who is not a best school friend, wears very pretty clothes. But she does not talk very pretty.
“Jo Jo, I can’t see the board. Move your chair,” Brie whispered.
I like to be helpful. “Move my chair, what, Brie?”
“Jo Jo, move your chair over there.” Brie lip-pointed to a spot next to her desk.
“No, Brie. Move my chair, please.”
Brie must have agreed I was being helpful because she stared at me for a long time.
I looked over at Brie’s clothes. Her pants have yellow hearts and stars. That looks pretty. And fancy. She also moves her fingers fancy.
Putting pinkies up when you write must be fancy.
I don’t know anything about being fancy. Today I started taking notes in my favorite purple unicorn notebook on questions and answers about how to be fancy.
HOW DO YOU BE FANCY?
THIS IS HOW YOU ARE FANCY
1. Find out how to be fancy (without Brie knowing).
Put pinkies up when writing.
2. How do you eat fancy?
3. How do you look fancy?
4. What do you do at a fancy wedding?
Pie, Oh My!
That morning at math time, Teacher wanted us to practice counting in different ways. So we sat at our tables and worked on math. I still had to sit with Brie. Again. And Penny and Joe. We sit at the blue circle table. That really is the kids-who-can’t-count-to-100-yet table.
Teacher clapped his hands just then.
“Class, we will be doing some fun math! We will be using food and math together.”
Up-Chuck asked, “Do we get to eat food during math?”
“No, we will just be using food words in math today.”
That did not sound like fun. Maybe Teacher does not know what fun is.
Fun is eating food, not just talking about it. Fun is playing with Mimi, Fern, or even Up-Chuck (but don’t tell him I said so).
“Students, please take out your math notebooks and let’s have some fun!”
I took out my math notebook. It is not very pretty. It is gray. I do not like gray, but it looks good on Kokum’s hair. She has gray hair with silver highlights.
“Okay, children, how many letters does the word apple have?”
Fern whispered, “Five.” Teacher nodded. Fern is very quiet sometimes, but her smile is very loud.
“Yes, good! Okay, class, here is a hard one. How many letters does blueberry pie have?”
Up-Chuck answered, “Eleven?”
“No, but close! Why don’t you look it up, Chuck?” Teacher looked at me quickly. He does not like it when I call Up-Chuck Up-Chuck. But that is his name. And Teacher just used it, too.
“No, I meant to say, Chuck, can you use the dictionary to look up the word for us?” Teacher said.
I did not know why Teacher made such a big mistake. I decided to be helpful.
“Teacher, blueberry pie has forty-seven letters.” I tilted my head. When you tilt your head, it means you are being helpful.
“Jo Jo, no, it does not,” Brie said. She said it very loud. And very un-nice.
Teacher said, “No, Jo Jo, that is very wrong. Blueberry pie certainly does not have forty-seven letters!”
“Yes, it does. My moushoom said so before he died last year. And Moushoom was always right.”
Teacher’s forehead started to get the bulgy vein. It looks like a purple river under his forehead. It is not a pretty purple.
“Well, no, Jo Jo. That’s not true,” Teacher said.
Some of the students looked at me with fast blinking. Blinky eyes mean they believe you.
I tilted my head, to be helpful, and shook my head back and forth again.
Teacher looked at me. He put his hands on his hips with his elbows pointed out.
Oh no. Teacher was making triangle arms. Triangle arms mean you are very mad.
“But my moushoom said it’s good to know our Native language. Then, when we speak it, our land will hear us and remember us,” I said.
“Well, I . . . ,” Teacher said.
“So, in our language, miini-baashkiminasigani-biitoosijigani-bakwezhigan is how you say ‘blueberry pie.’”
I gave Teacher a very big gum smile to show I helped him.
He gave me a very big stare. So he agrees with me! Blueberry pie has forty-seven letters.
Maybe using big, long words is how to be fancy?
HOW DO YOU BE FANCY?
THIS IS HOW YOU ARE FANCY
1. Find out how to be fancy (without Brie knowing).
Put pinkies up when writing.
2. How do you eat fancy?
Use very big food words to talk fancy.
3. How do you look fancy?
4. What do you do at a fancy wedding?
Dance Machine
Sometimes I like to eat butter. Just by itself. Just a little finger dip. It is best warm and squishy. Mimi thinks so, too. She always licks it right from my finger, because sometimes I sneak it to her under the table at home.
“Jo Jo, stop feeding Mimi,” Mama always says.
Well, if they would feed Mimi better, I would not have to. All they give Mimi are pellets. Pellets that are a bit stinky. And, well, pellets.
But I think butter must be fancy because it is in a shiny gold wrapping. It is like food glitter.
Saturday, there is no school, but it’s a Jo Jo workday. Sunday is my favorite day. And June, July, and August.
Saturday is chore day at my house. Chores are when you work for free because grown-ups say you have to.
“My girl, will you help me clean the basement?” Kokum asked me.
I do not enjoy chores, but I enjoy my kokum. “Eya, Mimi can help us, too!”
Kokum and Mama looked at each other. When grown-ups look at each other silently, it means they are proud of you.
I took the things off the shelf so Kokum could dust it. Why does she call it “dust”? She is taking the dust off, so it should be called “undusting.”
Kokum likes to listen to the radio when she cleans. Her favorite is Native hip-hop. But sometimes she has to mute grown-up words in the songs when I’m around. She is very fast at hitting the mute button!
Hmmm. I watched her reach back and forth to undust the shelves.
“Okay, Jo Jo, let’s vacuum the carpet. Can you please plug in the vacuum?”
“Eya!” I am so helpful.
I watched her move her arm front and back. She vacuumed and made carpet roads. Hmmm.
“Okay, last chore, my girl. Let’s fold laundry!”
My laundry job is to fold the socks. I have to find one sock and its best friend, and wrap them together in a hug.
I watched Kokum move her arms left and right, up and down, as she folded clothes. Hmmm.
“Kokum, did you say there will be dancing at Auntie Anne’s fancy wedding?”
“Yes, oh, and it will be fun!”
I did not know that Kokum has the moves.
HOW DO YOU BE FANCY?
