Judy Moody Declares Independence (8 page)

On the bus ride home, Rocky told Judy how much he liked her book report. “When I first saw you looking like a pilgrim, I was sure it would be boring. But it was WAY not boring.”

“Thanks,” said Judy. “I hope I get a way good grade and it shows my Mom and Dad how grown-up and responsible I am.”

“Just think,” Rocky said, “how super scary it must have been when Sybil rode through the woods . . . and it was dark and robbers were all around.”

“But she had to stop the British from burning down the whole town of Danbury!”

“Yeah. But if she got caught, the bad guys might think she was a spy!” Rocky said.

Judy and Rocky talked about Sybil all the way home.

When they got off the bus, Judy started walking, then said, “Oops, I almost forgot. I rode my bike to the bus stop today.”

“Okay. See ya!” called Rocky as he loped off toward his house. Judy unlocked her bike. Behind her, the doors of the bus hissed and closed, and the brakes squeaked as it pulled away from the curb.

Wait . . . something was not right.

Stink?

STINK!

Stink did not get off the bus! Stink had never NOT gotten off the bus before.

Judy could not think. She was sure she’d seen him get ON the bus. Should she yell for help? Race home and get Mom?

“HEY!” yelled Judy. “Mr. Bus Driver! HEY!” she shouted. The bus was already driving off down the street.

WWBFD? What would Ben Franklin do? Go to bed early? Save a penny? Judy did not think sugar packet sayings could help her now.

There was only one thing to do. Chase the bus!

Mom would worry if she didn’t come right home, but there was no time to go tell her. Not when her brother was being kidnapped by a runaway bus.

She, Judy Moody, had to get her brother back. No matter how stinky he was, he was still her brother.

Judy hitched up her pilgrim skirt and hopped on her bike. She pedaled hard. She pedaled fast. She rode like the wind. She rode like Sybil on Star. She chased that bus down the street and around the corner and up the hill and down the hill.

Cars whizzed by.
Whoosh!
Dirt flew in her face. She swerved to miss a big hole in the road. What if she fell off her bike and broke her head?

Judy kept riding. She tooted her horn. She yelled, “HEY! Mr. Bus! My brother’s on there. GIVE! ME! BACK! MY! BROTHER!”

The bus kept going.

A dog barked at her. What if a big meany dog got loose and chased her? What if she got bitten by a wild dog? A wild dog with RABIES?

Judy pedaled faster. Wind flapped her skirt and whipped her thirteen curls every which way. A big green garbage truck screamed by, way too close. Judy’s wheels wobbled. Her handlebars shook. The truck honked at her,
wooomp,
deep like a foghorn. Her heart pounded.

What if she got run over by a P.U. garbage truck?

She rode her bike all the way to Bacon Avenue. Traffic! Cars! Trucks! Red lights!

Then she saw it. The bus! The school bus, bright as a big cheese in the middle of the road. It had crossed the intersection and was heading up the hill on the other side of Third Street.

Mom and Dad would FREAK if she crossed the busy street in the middle of traffic by herself. But they might freak more if she came home late . . . without Stink!

WWSLD? What would Sybil Ludington do? Sybil would think for herself. Be independent. Be brave.

Judy hopped off and wheeled her bike to the crosswalk. She waited for the Big Red Hand on the sign to change to the Big Bright Walking Man. “Hurry up!” Judy yelled at the light. “The bus is getting away!”

Finally, the light changed. She looked both ways, took a deep breath, and crossed the street safely.

Judy hopped back on her bike and zoomed up the hill. Puff, puff, puff.

Judy huffed and puffed until she caught up with the bus. “Stink!” she shouted, biking on the sidewalk, right alongside the bus. The bus driver looked over. Judy pointed to the back of the bus. “My brother!”

At last! The bus stopped to let some kids off. The door rattled open. “My little brother . . .
puff, puff
. . . is . . .
puff, puff
. . . on that bus!” Judy yelled.

Stink was already rushing up to the front of the bus. “I fell asleep!” he told Judy. “And then I woke up and you were gone and I didn’t know where I was! I was so scared.”

“It’s okay,” said Judy. “I chased you and I found you and you’re safe now.” Stink clutched her shirtsleeve and wouldn’t let go.

“Thank you,” she said to the driver. “Thanks for stopping. C’mon, Stinker. Let’s go home.”

When Judy and Stink got home — over an hour late — Mom was mad-with-a-capital-
M
. “I thought I asked you to come straight home after school,” Mom said. “You scared me half to death!” She said she was scared and worried sick, but she did not look sick. Just M-A-D.

She did not even give Judy a chance to explain. “Judy, you know better than this. Go to your room. Now!”

“Stink should go to his room, too. He’s the one who fell asleep and —”

Mom’s lips turned into a thin white line. “I don’t want to hear it!” said Mom. She pointed upstairs.

Judy slunk up to her room, crawled into bed, and got under her baby quilt. She, Judy Moody, Friend of Sybil in History, was in trouble again. Trouble with a capital
T
. Worse than the Boston Tub Party.

Grownups! They sure acted like they wanted you to be all independent, but as soon as you were, they went and changed their minds. Independence. HA! All it did was get her in trouble.

Maybe if Judy just declared UN-independence, everything would go back to the way it was. At least she wouldn’t have to clean up so much. And get run over by P.U. garbage trucks while chasing runaway buses.

Judy tried to do her homework, but all the spelling words looked like scrambled eggs. She tried chewing gum for her ABC collection, but all it did was stick to her teeth. She tried starting a scrapbook of her trip to Boston, but even the Declaration of Independence looked sad.

To cheer herself up, Judy wrote a postcard to Tori:

Judy tiptoed to the top of the stairs to see if she could hear anything. Mom was talking to Stink. Traitor! He was probably blaming the whole thing on her. Redcoat!

Judy climbed back up to her top bunk. “Here, Mouse,” called Judy. At least her cat wasn’t mad at her. At least her cat was not a traitor.

Mouse hid under the bottom bunk. “Here, Mousie, Mousie.” Mouse still did not budge. Even her cat was declaring independence.

Judy’s whole room was in a mood. For sure and absolute positive.

After about a hundred years, Stink rattled the doorknob. “Open up!”

“Go away, Stink,” Judy told him.

“Open up, honey.” That did not sound like Stink. That sounded like Mom. Nice Mom, not Will-You-Ever-Learn Mom.

“We just want to talk to you, Judy.” That sounded like Dad. Kind Dad, not You-Are-in-Big-Trouble Dad.

“Am I in big trouble?” Judy asked the door. “Because if I am, then I declare UN-independence. I promise I will NOT make my bed or do my homework or be nice to Stink. And I will definitely not rescue him anymore. EVER!”

“Judy, open the door so we can talk about this,” said Dad.

Judy opened the door. Mom rushed to hug her. Dad ruffled Judy’s hair and kissed the top of her head.

“Stink told us what happened,” said Dad. “That was a very brave thing you did.”

“It was?”

“I’m sorry, honey,” said Mom. “It gave me quite a scare when you two didn’t come right home, so I didn’t even stop to listen. You had a hard choice to make, and you really used some good, independent thinking.”

“I did?”

“You sure did,” said Dad.

“I was scared, too,” said Judy. “I thought a big meany dog might bite me or a garbage truck might run me over or I’d fall and break my head or something. I just kept thinking about Sybil Ludington and how she was scared, too.”

“We’re very proud of you, Sybil,” Dad said. “I mean Judy.”

“Proud enough to give me more allowance and stuff?”

“Dad and I will talk things over,” said Mom. “Maybe you
are
ready for a little more independence.”

She, Judy Moodington, was not in big-or-little-
T
trouble. And she showed independent thinking. Just like Sybil Ludington.