Junie B. Jones Has a Peep in Her Pocket

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 am almost six years old.

Almost six is when you get to go to school. And so, last summer Mother took me to the school office. And she ’rolled me in afternoon kindergarten.

’
Rolled
is the grown-up word for
signed me up and made me go.

Only guess what?

I don’t even mind going there, hardly. ’Cause I made two bestest friends at that place, that’s why!

Their names are Lucille and that Grace.

We are like three peas in a row.

My teacher’s name is Mrs. She has another name, too. But I just like Mrs. and that’s all.

Only here is the trouble. Just when I was getting good at kindergarten, Mrs. made a ’nouncement to our class. And she said that pretty soon, school is going to end!

I did a gasp at that terrible news.

“No, Mrs.! No, no, no! How can school
end?
’Cause Mother said I have to go to school till I am an old teenager. And I am not even six years old yet!”

Mrs. quick shaked her head.

“Oh dear, I’m sorry, Junie B.,” she said.
“I’m afraid that you’ve misunderstood me. School isn’t going to end
forever.
School will just be taking a summer vacation.”

She smiled at me. “You, and everyone else in this class, will come back to school in September. It’s just that you won’t be in Room Nine anymore.”

I quick got out a paper and crayon.

“Okey-doke. Then tell me the name of our new room,” I said. “’Cause I will need to tell Mother where to bring me.”

Mrs. did a little frown. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “But right now, I have no idea what room you’ll be in next year.”

Now I did a frown, too.

“So what am I s’posed to do, then? Just wander around the school until I find you people?”

Mrs. looked funny at me.

“You still don’t understand,” she said. “Next year you’re going to have a
different
teacher, Junie B. Next year you’re going to be in
first.
”

“First what?” I asked.

“First
grade
,” she said.

Just then, my stomach felt sickish inside. ’Cause I don’t even
like
first graders, that’s why. First graders are bullies to me at recess.
And I don’t want to be in the same room as those guys.

Pretty soon, a boy named William started to sniffle very much. ’Cause William hates first graders even more than me.

That’s because one time a first grader stoled William’s winter hat with the ear flaps. And he put it on a dog that was running around the playground. And the
dog runned away with William’s ear-flap hat forever.

I patted William very nice.

“Me and William don’t want to be in the same room as first graders,” I told Mrs. “Me and William prefer children our own age.”

“Me too,” said my bestest friend Lucille. “I prefer children my own age, too.”

“Me too,” hollered a boy named Paulie Allen Puffer.

“Me too,” said a girl named Charlotte.

Mrs. said
shh
to us.

“Boys and girls,
please.
Now everyone is misunderstanding me,” she said. “We need to get clear on this right now. Next year—when you come back to school—you will
not
be in class with the children who are first graders this year. Next year, those
children will move up to
second
grade. And
you
people will move to first. Understand?”

I thought and thought about that.

Then, all of a sudden, a light bulb came on in my head.

“Ohhh! I get it now!
All
of the grades move up! Right, Mrs.? Everyone does!”

She clapped her hands. “Right! Exactly!” she said very happy. “Now may I please get on with my announcement?”

I brushed my skirt very smoothie.

“Yes, you may,” I said real polite.

“Okay,” said Mrs. “As I started to tell you earlier, I have very happy news for Room Nine. Because this year—for the first time ever—we are going to go on a special end-of-the-year field trip!”

She smiled real big. “We’re going to a farm! Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“A FARM!” shouted the children. “A FARM! A FARM! WE’RE GOING TO A FARM!”

Then Lucille hugged me very thrilled.

“A farm!” she said real squealy in my ear.

“A farm,” I said real glum.

’Cause guess what?

Farms are not my favorites.

That night, I ate dinner with Mother and Daddy and my baby brother named Ollie.

Only I couldn’t even swallow that good. ’Cause I was still upset about the field trip, that’s why.

“I don’t want to go,” I said. “I don’t want to go to the farm with Room Nine. ’Cause a farm is the most dangerous place I ever heard of.”

Daddy looked surprised at me.

“What are you talking about, Junie B.?”
he said. “What’s dangerous about a farm?”

“The ponies, of course,” I said. “The ponies are dangerous. Farms have ponies running in their fields. And ponies can stomple you into the ground and kill you to death.”

Mother covered her face with her hands.

“No, Junie B.,
please.
Not this pony thing again. We’ve talked about this a hundred times. I’ve told you over and over that ponies do not hurt you.”

“Yes, they do too hurt you, Mother!” I said. “I saw it on TV with my own eyeballs!”

Mother looked at Daddy.

“It was that stupid cable show the babysitter let her watch,” she said. “It was called—”

“
WHEN PONIES ATTACK
,” I
hollered. “IT WAS CALLED
WHEN PONIES ATTACK!
”

After that, Daddy covered his face, too. Then, all of a sudden, he busted out in a loud hoot of laughing. And he couldn’t even stop himself.

Mother’s cheeks sucked way into her head.

“Thank you,” she said. “You’re being a huge help here.”

Then Daddy got up from his chair. And he went to his room for a time-out.

That’s when me and Mother had another long talk about ponies.

She told me that her uncle Billy used to have a farm. And that the farm had a pony named Stubby. And that Stubby was gentle as a lamb.

“As a matter of fact, Uncle Billy had
almost every kind of farm animal you can think of,” said Mother. “Pigs, cows, sheep, chickens, goats. He even had a mean old rooster named Spurs. But out of all those animals, the pony was the sweetest.”

Mother smiled. “You would have loved Stubby, Junie B.,” she said. “He used to follow me around like a puppy.”

“He did?” I said.

“He did,” she said back. “Honest, honey. I would
never
let you go to a farm if there was even the teeniest chance you would be hurt by any of the animals. But my uncle Billy’s farm had the gentlest animals I ever saw.”

Mother smiled a little bit. “Well, except for that mean old rooster, anyway,” she said.

Just then, Daddy came back into the kitchen.

He said a ’pology to me.

“I’m sorry, Junie B. I didn’t mean to laugh. But that TV show you saw was just so ridiculous, I couldn’t help it.”

After that, he sat down at the table. And he filled out my permission slip for the farm.

“You’re going to love this trip,” he told me. “We’ll get you one of those little throwaway cameras from the drugstore. And you can take pictures of all the animals you see.”

“Great idea,” said Mother. “And I’ll take you shopping for a brand-new pair of overalls. And I’ll even pack you your very favorite lunch.”

After that, I got down from my chair very quiet. And I went to my room.