Never Swim in Applesauce by Katherine Applegate Page B

brushed off the hair and dust and ate the Froot Loops.
    â€œRoscoe,” Dad said, “please save the floor food for the dog. And why are you two so interested in that ball?”
    â€œIt’s not just a ball, Dad,” I said. “It’s a ball that tells the future.”
    â€œI got it at Howie Hubble’s birthday party,” Hazel said. “’Cause I won pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey.”
    She started to take the ball from my hand.
    â€œC’mon, Hazel,” I begged. “You said whoever rescued the ball could play with it.”
    â€œYou have got to promise, promise, PROMISE to give this back to me. Soon,” Hazel said.
    â€œHow about Friday?” I asked.
    â€œPromise?”
    â€œI promise,” I said. “You can count on me.”
    â€œCross your heart and hope to fry?”
    â€œTrust me, Hazel,” I said.
    â€œI trusted you with my Butterfly Barbie, and you let the dog eat one of her wings.”
    â€œThat was a total accident. I wanted to see if she could fly,” I explained. “And Goofy thought she was a Frisbee. I promise you that nothing will happen to this ball.”
    â€œOkay,” she said, but she sounded like she didn’t believe me.
    I shook the magic ball. “Magic fortune-telling ball,” I said, “will I have fun on my field trip?”
    I turned the ball over and read the message.
    â€œCONCENTRATE AND ASK AGAIN,” it said.
    I tried again. “Will I have fun at the apple orchard?”
    â€œABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY YES!” it said.
    Of course, I already knew that would be the answer.

6
One Hundred Apples Up High in a Tree
    When our field-trip day finally came, I woke up extra early to be sure I wouldn’t miss anything.
    Turns out four in the morning is a little too early.
    Moms and dads are very grumbly that time of day.
    After I took the bus to school, we did the usual morning stuff.
    The Pledge of a Wee Gent.
    Morning Nouncements.
    Calendar.
    Weather.
    And Sharing Time.
    I shared Hazel’s magic fortune-telling ball.
    It was my second time sharing it.
    But Ms. Diz said that was okay because I was clearly very attached to it.
    Also, it was my last day of having the ball.
    After school I had to give it back to Hazel.
    She’d reminded me at breakfast.
    Twice.
    The first time I shared the ball, I had forgotten to ask it a yes-or-no question.
    This time I asked it, “Will this be mymost funnest day ever?”
    I turned it over and checked the answer.
    â€œâ€˜OUTLOOK CLOUDY,’” I read.
    â€œIt’s going to rain?” Gus cried. “But that means no apple picking!”
    â€œI think the ball means a different kind of cloudy,” said Ms. Diz. “It means it’s not sure what the answer is. But let’s remember it’s just a toy, and toys can’t tell the future.Besides, I think it’s a pretty safe bet that today will be a fun day for all of you.”

    At last we lined up and headed outside to the field-trip bus.
    I sat next to Emma. She’s my best friend.
    Gus sat in front of us. He’s my other best friend.
    Gus had to sit next to Wyatt.
    Sometimes I call Wyatt “Bully Breath.”

    When I do that, Mom corrects me. “Let’s just say that Wyatt does not exactly have a winning personality,” she says.
    But that’s way too many words to remember.
    Today we had to be polite to Wyatt because he was part of our apple-picking team.
    On the bus there were some moms and dads, but my mom and dad couldn’t come because they had to work.
    Which was okay. Because sometimes parents can be embarrassing.
    Like when they wipe your nose with a tissue when you have a perfectly good sleeve available.
    Before we got going, Ms. Diz stood up at the front of the bus.
    We were pretty exuberant.
    Emma taught me that word. She likes words a lot.
    It means “full of excitement.”
    Only exuberant sounds better.
    We were so exuberant,