Published by

  PEACHTREE PUBLISHING COMPANY INC.

  1700 Chattahoochee Avenue

  Atlanta, Georgia 30318-2112

  PeachtreeBooks.com

  Text © 2023 by Jan Carr

  Illustrations © 2023 by Kris Mukai

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  Edited by Catherine Frank

  Design and composition by Lily Steele

  The illustrations were rendered digitally.

  ISBN 9781682635353

  Ebook ISBN 9781682635582

  Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available from the Library of Congress.

  a_prh_6.0_144228932_c0_r0

  For Nancy Cabrero, Liz Furey-Jablonski, Marjorie Martinelli, and all teachers who are comfortable with a little classroom chaos.

  –J.C.

  For the kids, George, Cammy, Peter, Camille, Dilly, Francie, Ori, and Lee.

  –K.M.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE: Mystery Mess

  CHAPTER TWO: Bea’s Books

  CHAPTER THREE: A Little Bit of Chaos

  CHAPTER FOUR: Thinking Caps

  CHAPTER FIVE: The Rhymerinos

  CHAPTER SIX: Spies!

  CHAPTER SEVEN: The Stellar Js

  CHAPTER EIGHT: Maple Syrple

  CHAPTER NINE: Seeds in the Tree

  Buddy said goodbye to Poppy just outside school. Inside, he said good morning to Ms. King, the safety agent. Then he marched past the office on the way to his classroom. Ms. Flores waved to him.

  “How’s my best Buddy?” she asked.

  “Great!” he said. He gave a thumbs-up.

  Now that he was in second grade, everybody knew him. Even the principal! And it was still only the very first week! The last day of the first week, but still. He’d accomplished all this by Friday!

  Buddy really liked the people in his school. Mostly. Because they really liked him. But there were a few people he was still getting used to. Because they were new. Like his teacher, Ms. Maple. And that new girl, Bea.

  Buddy spied Bea ahead of him in the hallway. She was talking to someone. It was Jabari, another second-grade teacher. But he wasn’t their teacher. Why was Bea talking to Jabari?

  Buddy tried to sneak past. He didn’t want Bea to see him. She’d want to glom onto him.

  But Bea caught up.

  “Hey,” she said. “My Buddy.”

  When Ms. Flores called him her buddy, Buddy liked it. But when Bea said it, it felt too sticky. She thought he was her buddy. But he wasn’t.

  “I’m not your buddy,” he said.

  “I know,” she said. “But your name is Buddy. So I like to think of you as mine.”

  And that was the problem. Exactly.

  “So guess what?” said Bea. “I told Jabari all about you.”

  Buddy stopped. He stared at her. “What do you mean?”

  “I told him you want to do bird-watching. Like he does.” Bea hadn’t really done that, had she? “I told him you want to use his binoculars.”

  “Why did you say that?” said Buddy.

  “Because I told him you wish you were in his class,” said Bea. “So I had to explain why.”

  Buddy’s face burned. “You told him I want to be in his class?”

  “Well, you do,” said Bea. “Don’t you? You said.”

  What kind of blabbermouth was Bea anyway? One who’d blab every single thing he ever told her?

  Buddy sped up to get away. But Bea got to the door of the classroom right as he did. She pushed in front of him. Buddy put his foot out to block her. But Bea bumped him with her hip, knocking him out of the way.

  “Hey!” cried Buddy. “No pushing!”

  “I wasn’t pushing!” she said. “It was a hip bump. Like a fist bump. But with hips!”

  Inside the classroom, Buddy spied Joey, his best friend. Joey and the other kids were huddled together. Something was wrong. The classroom was a mess. A huge mess.

  “Whoa,” said Bea, looking around. “This place is a disaster. It looks like a tornado hit it.”

  It was true. It did. Like a tornado had come through and blown all the books around. Books were everywhere. Scattered on every table. And all across the floor. Buddy had to step around them as he walked in.

  A little shiver shot through him. A shiver of excitement. A mess! thought Buddy. A glorious mess!

  Sometimes, Buddy liked messes. They made him feel, well … fizzy. At home, Buddy liked to take out his action figures and scatter them all over the bed. All over everywhere! That felt like his toys had come out to play with him.

  Messes could feel friendly.

  But this wasn’t his bedroom. This was his classroom.

  Buddy walked over to his friends. Joey gestured at the room. “Look!” he said. His eyes were wide, like they were saying, Wow!

  “Can you believe this?” said Malik.

  “What happened?” said Omar.

  Their teacher was across the room. Why wasn’t she doing anything? Saying anything? Would she yell? Buddy couldn’t imagine it exactly. He hadn’t seen her yell. Not yet. But every teacher got angry. Sometimes.

  “Ms. Maple’s going to be mad,” he said.

  “Who made this mess?” asked Joey.

  Buddy and his friends looked at Bea.

  “You!” said Joey. He pointed at her. “I bet you did it!”

  That made sense. Bea was the perfect suspect. There was always a lot of mess around Bea. So Buddy pointed, too.

  “Me?” said Bea. “How could I do it? I just got here!”

  That was true. Bea had come in the room right when Buddy had. Still, it was the kind of thing she would have done. If she could have.

  The mess was a mystery.

  Ms. Maple called the class to their morning meeting. They gathered on the rug. “Good morning, Class 2–108,” she said.

  All the kids raised their hands. Though, they didn’t wait to get called on.

  “Who did this?” asked Priya.

  “Who’s going to clean it up?” asked Bea.

  “Is someone in trouble?” asked Buddy.

  Ms. Maple waited for everyone to calm down. And then she said, “It was me. I did it.”

  What?

  Whoa! Ms. Maple?

  Why?

  Buddy sat up straighter. He still didn’t know Ms. Maple very well. He couldn’t tell yet what kind of teacher she was. An unpredictable one? The kind of teacher who you never knew what in the world she might do?

  “I took all the books out of the classroom book baskets,” she said. “The baskets that were here from last year. Then I mixed the books up and scattered them all around the room.”

  Priya waved her hand harder. She asked the question every other kid was thinking. “Why?”

  “Because now you all are going to sort them,” said Ms. Maple.

  “But,” said Priya. She paused. Like she was trying to figure out a way to be polite. “That doesn’t make sense, right? The books were already sorted. So why do we have to sort them all over again?”

  “Excellent question,” said Ms. Maple. “Because when you sort the books, you’ll get to know them. You’ll see all the different books we have in our classroom library. Then, when you want to choose a book, you’ll know where to look.”

  Wow, thought Buddy. Ms. Maple didn’t only make messes. She made sneaky messes. Which was even more impressive.

  Ms. Maple showed them the empty baskets for the books. Each one had a label. Like Biographies. Or Humor. Or Space.

  There were a lot of baskets. But Class 2–108 had a lot of kids. So they divided up the labels and the work. And they all got busy.

  Omar searched for graphic novels.

  Keiko looked for poetry books.

  Marisol and Tamar looked for stories about friends.

  And Amber collected books about African Americans. She collected a tall stack.

  Joey had been gathering books about sports. Then he looked at Amber’s stack. She had a lot of books about people like her. Which made him wonder. Could he find books about kids who used wheelchairs?

  “Hey!” Joey called out. “If anyone finds a book with someone who uses a wheelchair, give it here!” He found another book about sports. He put it in his pile. “And if anyone finds a book with sports and a wheelchair?” he said. “Definitely give it here!”

  But Buddy? He hadn’t started sorting yet. Sometimes it took Buddy a while to start a project. At home, his dads called him poky. That was because he liked to do things carefully. He liked to think about things.

  Buddy picked up a book. It had a boy on the cover. Then he picked up another book. It had a different boy. He waggled the books, as if the boys were talking to each other. “I’m a superhero,” said the first one. The other boy answered, “Me, too! Let’s save the world!” Like they were action figures. Cool!

  Bea plopped down next to Buddy. “What are you collecting?” she asked.

  Buddy cupped his books to his chest. In case Bea tried to grab them. She could be grabby. And fast. “What are you collect

ing?” he asked.

  Bea held up a basket. She ripped off the old label: Mysteries. Then she dropped a book in the basket. It was a book about shark attacks. “Get it?” she asked. “Do you get my category?”

  “Books about sharks?” he said.

  “No,” said Bea. “It’s easy. Come on.”

  “Ocean stuff?”

  “No!” said Bea. “Think!”

  Buddy shrugged.

  “Books I want to read!” she said. “Me! Bea!”

  She flipped over the label and wrote on the other side: Bea’s Books. Then she taped it back on the basket.

  There weren’t many books in Bea’s basket. So she jumped up to look at Omar’s stack. On top was a graphic novel. The cover showed a girl roller-skating.

  Bea fanned some other books in front of her. Random books. As if they were cards she was holding in a card game. “Do you have any books about roller-skating?” she asked Omar. He held up the book on top. Bea grabbed it.

  “Hey!” cried Omar. He tried to grab it back.

  “Come on!” said Bea. “You have to play! It’s a game. Like Go Fish!”

  Then she looked at Priya’s pile. On top was a book with planets talking to each other.

  “Do you have any books with speech balloons?” asked Bea.

  Priya tried her best to shield her book. But somehow Bea snatched it.

  Priya scowled. She put her hands on her hips. Then she tattled.

  “Ms. Maple!” she called out. “Bea’s taking everyone’s books!”

  Ms. Maple glanced at the clock. “Class 2–108!” she called. “Time to come back to the rug. Let’s take a look at the books you’ve sorted so far.”

  The kids grabbed their books and crushed onto the rug. Ms. Maple gave everyone a chance to explain their categories. But Buddy got a little confused. Because some books could fit in more than one category. Kaveh had a book that was a funny book. So it could go in the Humor basket. But it was also a book about astronauts. Hmm. So, Space? That one was tricky.

  Amber showed a book for the African American basket.

  “But it’s a graphic novel,” said Omar.

  “No,” said Priya. “It’s a biography.”

  Buddy’s head was spinning.

  “It doesn’t matter what we decide,” said Ms. Maple. “As long as we decide together. And we can put notes about the books in the other baskets. In case you forget where to look for them.”

  “Like a treasure hunt!” said Tamar.

  Then it was Bea’s turn. “My books,” she said, holding them up, “are Bea’s Books. They’re books I want to read.”

  Ms. Maple paused. “I’m glad you found books you want to read,” she said. Bea beamed. “But,” said Ms. Maple. “I’m afraid we don’t have enough baskets for everyone to have their own.”

  “No problem,” said Bea. “I’ll do a double basket. Bea’s Books and Some of Buddy’s.” She tried to grab Buddy’s books out of his hands. He held them tightly.

  “Bea,” said Ms. Maple. “I don’t think we can have baskets for individuals. What if someone else wants to read the books in your basket?”

  “Then I’ll lend them,” said Bea. “Because it’s a library. But they have to give them back.”

  Bea stuck her basket under her T-shirt. As if she were hiding it. But everyone could see it. It made a big bulge under her shirt. “I’ll put notes in other baskets,” she said. “So Tamar can do her treasure hunt.”

  Ms. Maple looked as if she were about to argue. But she pursed her lips. And moved on. “Buddy,” she said. “What are your books?”

  “Well,” said Buddy. “They both have boys.” He held up the books so everyone could see.

  “And what category are you suggesting?”

  “Is there a superhero basket?” asked Buddy.

  “Those guys aren’t superheroes!” said Priya.

  Buddy didn’t actually care which basket the books went in. As long as they weren’t in the basket for Bea’s Books. “Books about Friends, then,” he said, which was the basket Marisol and Tamar were working on.

  “Are there friends in the books?” asked Marisol.

  “No,” said Buddy. “But the books are friends.” He waggled one. Then the other. And made them talk. “We’re friends,” he said in a funny voice. He looked back up. “See?”

  “That’s not what the category means,” said Tamar.

  Buddy hugged the books to him. “Can I keep them a little longer?” he asked. “Because, actually, it’s kind of like they’re my friends.”

  “See?” said Bea. “Buddy needs his own basket, too!”

  Finally, everyone finished their turns. Ms. Maple smiled. “You’re all doing a good job,” she said. “Discussing the books. And listening to each other’s ideas.”

  Buddy was glad to get a compliment. He raised his hand to give Ms. Maple one back. “And you did a good job, too,” he said.

  “Why, thank you, Buddy,” she said.

  “Because you are really, really good at making big messes!”

  Ms. Maple laughed. “Well,” she said. “Teachers have to be comfortable with a little bit of chaos.”

  “Sometimes a lot!” said Buddy.

  Buddy was starting to feel better about being in Ms. Maple’s class. At least a little. It was good that she liked messes. And also, she was sneaky.

  Maybe at recess, he would tell the other kids. The kids in Jabari’s class. Maybe then they’d wish they were in Ms. Maple’s class.

  Like he sort of still wished he was in Jabari’s.

  It wouldn’t be like bragging, exactly.

  Well, maybe it would be like bragging.

  But just a little.

  That day, on his way to lunch, Buddy stopped short. He realized he was carrying those two books he liked. Whoops. He’d forgotten to leave them in the classroom.

  But that was okay because Ms. Flores was walking toward him. So maybe it was lucky he had the books. He could show her how he made them talk to each other. This time, he used a deep superhero voice. “We’re saving the world!” he said. Ms. Flores laughed.

  Buddy still had to return the books to the classroom. Which made him even more late to lunch. By the time he finally got to the cafeteria, his friends were already leaving for recess.

  Buddy ate quickly. Then he hopped up and ran to join them.

  “Walk!” called a teacher.

  It was Jabari. He had his binoculars. He was showing them to Cosmo, a kid in his class. “Want a peek?” he asked Buddy.

  Buddy peered through. Everything looked a little blurry. But things always looked a little blurry around Jabari. Because he was so cool. Buddy was too flustered to ask how to fix the focus. Did Jabari remember what Bea had said? That Buddy wished he was in his class?

  “Hey,” said Cosmo. He reached for the binoculars. “These are for our class.” Cosmo could be kind of annoying. “For when we go bird-watching.”

  Buddy felt like saying, “Who cares?” But Jabari was there. So Buddy said, “Well? We have a mess in our classroom.”

  Yikes. That didn’t come out right. If he was going to brag, he’d need to come up with a better brag than that.

  Buddy handed the binoculars back and headed out to the playground. Bea was already there. A crowd of kids was around her. Kids from Class 2–110, Jabari’s class. Everybody knew Bea. Even though she was new at school, Bea was fast all right!

  “Guess what,” she was telling them. “This morning our class was a pigsty! It looked like a tornado whirled through it.”

  Somehow it sounded better when Bea said it. Bea was a better bragger.

  “It blew the books all around,” she was saying. “And now we have to sort every one. Even the crummy books nobody wants to read!”

  Cosmo and Jabari had followed Buddy outside. Jabari pointed to his class. “Hey!” he said. “2–110! Don’t forget. Keep those thinking caps on!” Then he wheeled on his heel and walked back into school.

  “Thinking caps?” said Bea. “Why do you need thinking caps?”

  “None of your BEAswax,” said Cosmo.

 

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