Junie B. Jones and that Meanie Jim's Birthday by Barbara Park Page B

Slumping
    I walked home from the bus stop very slumping.
    Very slumping is when your shoulders are sad. And your head can’t hold up that good.
    Grandma Miller was in the nursery.
    She baby-sits me and my baby brother in the afternoon.
    His name is Ollie.
    I love him a real lot. Except I wish he didn’t live at my actual house.
    Grandma Miller was rocking him in the rocking chair.
    I tried to climb up there, too. Only Grandma said “Hold your horses” at me.
    “Yeah, only I need to rock very bad,” I explained. “On account of a mean boy is having a birthday party on Saturday. And he is inviting everyone in Room Nine. Only not me. I’m the
only one
who’s not going.”
    Grandma Miller did a sad face.
    “Children can be so cruel,” she said. “Just wait till I get the baby to sleep. And then you and I will talk about it. Okay?”
    And so that’s how come I crossed my arms.
    And I tapped my foot.
    And I waited and waited for that baby to go to sleep. Only his eyes kept on staying wide open.
    “Hold them closed with your fingers, Grandma,” I told her.
    “Heavens, no!” she said.
    Then she kept right on rocking him.
    And so finally I got tired of waiting. And I went to my room. And I crawled underneath my covers.
    I crawled way down to the bottom of my sheets.
    It is very muffly down there.
    You can say mean stuff.
    And no one can hear you.

    “Here is all the stuff I hate,” I said. “First, I hate that meanie Jim. Then I hateclowns. And Old MacDonald had a farmer. Plus I hate rabbits. And burros. And ponies.
    “And guess what else? We didn’t actually need a baby at this house. Only no one even consulted me.”
    Just then, I heard a knock on my door.
    “Junie B.? It’s Grandma, honey. Ollie finally went to sleep.”
    She came in and lifted up my covers.
    “I called your mother and told her what happened at school,” she said.
    I peeked up at her.
    “And so can she fix it?” I asked. “Can I go to the birthday party now?”
    Grandma Miller held out her arms to me.
    She pulled me out of my covers.
    “Your mother is going to talk to you about it when she gets home,” she said.“Meanwhile, why don’t you and I have a little fun. Let’s read a book, okay? What kind of story would you like to hear?”
    I thought and thought.
    “I would like to hear a story about a little girl who doesn’t get invited to a meanie boy’s birthday. And so she sneaks to his house. And she lets a wild pony out of the barn. And then it stomples the boy into a flattie pancake. And all the children pour maple syrup on that guy. And they eat him for breakfast.”
    Grandma Miller looked kind of sickish.
    “You’ve got to stop worrying about that boy’s party. He’s just trying to get your goat,” she said.
    Just then my eyes got big and wide at her.
    “Goat? What goat, Grandma? Do I havea goat? Is it a surprise goat? Are you keeping it a secret at your house?”
    I jumped up and pulled her hand.
    “Let’s go get it! Want to, Grandma? Let’s go get my goat right now!”
    Just then a great idea popped in my head.
    “HEY! I JUST THOUGHT OF SOMETHING, GRANDMA! YOU AND ME CAN BRING MY GOAT TO MY HOUSE! AND THEN I CAN HAVE MY VERY OWN BIRTHDAY ON SATURDAY!
    “I WILL CALL IT ‘COME AND PET MY GOAT’! AND EVERYONE IN ROOM NINE WILL COME TO
MY
PARTY! AND THEY WON’T GO TO THAT MEANIE JIM’S!”
    All of a sudden, the front door opened.
    It was Mother!
    I runned to her speedy quick.
    “Mother! Mother! Guess what? Guess what? Me and Grandma Miller are getting my goat! And I am having my very own birthday party on Saturday! And all of Room Nine is going to be invited. Only not that Jim I hate! He is the
only one
not coming! So ha ha on him!”
    Just then, Grandma Miller sneaked out the front door with her sweater.
    I pulled on Mother’s arm.
    “Come on, Mother! Come on!” I said. “We have to go to the store and buy my invitations! Plus also we have to pick up the beanie wienies!”
    Mother didn’t come on.
    She sat