Rose is my oldest sister, and she is so lucky, because she gets her own room. I've always had to share mine with Gardenia. Mom said Rose needs her privacy because she's maturing into a young woman. No fair!

I'm the youngest of three girls and we're all named after flowers. Mom said she wanted her own bouquet, but I think she got a thorn bush with my sisters because they are m-e-a-n MEAN! I have a flower name too, of course, but it is long and hard to spell and terrible. I'll never tell anyone what it is. Mom and Dad sometimes call me by my real name when I'm in big trouble, but otherwise I'm just called Bean.

Today was the first day of school, and boy, was I excited. My new teacher was gonna be Ms. Sullivan. Rose had her in third grade and she said she was supernice. I was also excited because Carla was gonna be in my class.

Carla is my best friend. We've been friends forever and ever. Even when we weren't in the same class at school, we would help each other with our homework. We had sleepovers every weekend, and when she was really sick last year, I sat by her bed every day after school. I hadn't seen her all summer, and boy, did I miss her.

I headed down the hall to the bathroom, followed by a grouchy Gardenia, who had finally come out from under her covers. When I opened the bathroom door, steam fogged my glasses. Rose had been in the shower forever and was singing like she was BeyoncÃ©, but she definitely didn't sound as good.

“Rose, would you shut up!” shouted Gardenia.

Rose just sang louder and off-key.

Gardenia growled and leaned her head into the sink to wash her face, just as I was about to spit out my toothpaste. Blue foamy paste exploded from my lips and slid down the side of her face.

“Gross!” She wiped her face with a washcloth. “Watch where you're spitting.”

“Sorry,” I said. Even though I tried to hold it in, I started to laugh. Luckily, Gardenia didn't clobber me. She laughed too.

“Breakfast time, ladies!” called Mom from downstairs.

We all finished getting ready and scurried downstairs, following the smell of bacon and oatmeal. I gave Mom a quick good-morning hug before I sat next to Dad at the table. Gardenia shoved pieces of bacon into her mouth before she even sat down. What a pig!

“Gardenia, please slow down,” Dad said. “Put the food on your plate before you start gorging yourself.”

Gardenia grabbed a handful of bacon, touched her plate with it, and then shoved it all into her mouth. Dad just sighed and shook his head.

The oatmeal looked delicious and sticky and gooey, so I shoved my finger way down deep in the bowl and circled it around.

“Beanânasty! Get your grubby little finger out of there!” Rose bellowed, with her mouth so wide open, I could see her tonsils and that little ball dangling in the back of her throat.

“And I just saw her pick her nose,” Gardenia joined in.

“I did not!” I glared at them with my angriest and meanest mad face. I pulled my finger out of the sticky oatmeal, popped it into my mouth, and crossed my eyes at my dumb sisters.

“Girls, that's enough,” said Dad.

“Bean, please use a spoon,” Mom said.

“Oh, all right,” I said, and slid down low on the seat so only my eyes could be seen. I reached above my head to grab my spoon. I carefully scooped oatmeal and brought it down to where my mouth was. This kept me busy, so I didn't have to listen to Gardenia and Rose jabber on about summer camp.

“Remember on the high ropes course when Billy was belaying and your foot got caught?” Rose giggled.

“That was so embarrassing, and that harness hurt so bad.” Gardenia laughed.

“Who is Billy and what is
belaying
?” I asked, but no one seemed to hear me.

I had no idea what they were talking about, because I hadn't gone to sleepaway camp with them. Mom and Dad said I was too young, so I had spent the summer at Grand Mommy's house with my cousin Tanya. We had so much fun playing in the sprinklers, drinking Slurpees, building forts, and riding bikes. And with no sisters around, it was the best summer ever!

“Okay, ladies, finish up your breakfast,” Dad said. “Time to get a move on.”

He kissed us each on the foreheadâeven Momâand headed out the door to the college where he teaches. He's a music professor and can play almost any instrument, but he's best at piano and guitar. I can play piano, but not too good. “Chopsticks” is the only song I know.

“Have a great day, girls,” Mom said. “I have to work late tonight, so I won't be home until after dinnertime. Be good for Daddy, okay?”

“Yes, Mom,” we said all at the same time. I gave her a big hug.

Mom is an ob-gyn nurse at the hospital, which mean she helps deliver babies. She has to work long hours because you never know when a baby's gonna be born. I miss her when she has to work late, and I know Dad misses her too.

Mom handed me and Gardenia our lunch bags, then gave Rose some money, five whole dollars. She was starting middle school, so now she gets to buy lunch in the cafeteria. I wish I had some money instead of a stinky peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich.

Just as I pulled on my backpack, Rose grabbed me by the hand and dragged me out the front door. She's in charge of making sure me and Gardenia get to school, but I didn't think that meant she had to rip my arm right off my body.

“Rose, you're breaking my fingers!” I scratched at the side of her hand.

“Stop being such a baby!” Rose barked, but she loosened her death grip, and we were on our way down the block.

I skipped and swung Rose's arm back and forth as we crossed Twenty-fifth Street. “Twenty-fourth . . . Twenty-third . . . Twenty-second. . . .” I counted out loud. It was fun to count backward, but the numbers stopped because we turned the corner onto Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard.

I yelled, “Good morning, Martin Luther King Junior!”

He was a very important man. I had learned in second grade that he won the Nobel Peace Prize because he wanted blacks and whites to have equal rights.

“He had a dream, you know,” I informed Rose.

Rose rolled her eyes at me and nearly yanked off my arm. She obviously didn't understand how important Martin Luther King is, so I pulled my hand out of her stinky, sweaty palm. I grabbed Gardenia's hand instead and swung it back and forth.

We turned the corner onto Coliseum Street, the street my school is on. Excited feelings swirled around in my tummy. We followed the fence around the playground and joined the crowds of kids and moms and dads filling the front of the building. I looked around, hoping to see some familiar faces, but there were too many big kids in the way. Mostly, all I saw were legs and feet. Gardenia ran off, with a wave over her shoulder, as Rose and I continued through the crowd.

“Come on, Bean,” she said with a smile. “Let's go find Ms. Sullivan.”

In the playground, all the kids were lining up. There was a big white circle painted on the cement with a green number 1 on it.
Eww!
I hate green. Green is for snakes and peas and boogers. Nasty! This was where the first grade lined up. I saw my old first-grade teacher, Ms. Ring. She was the nicest teacher ever. She taught me how to read, and we always played games to learn, instead of filling in worksheets from boring old workbooks. I ran over and gave her a quick hug.

“My goodness, Bean. Look how big you've gotten,” she said as she gave me a warm hug back. Then she hugged Rose too. “And, Rose, aren't you in middle school now?”

Rose nodded and smiled.

“I remember when you were this big,” Ms. Ring said as she put her hand right by my belly button. I looked up at Rose. I couldn't believe she was ever that small.

Me and Rose waved good-bye to Ms. Ring. We passed the second graders and the big red painted number 2. Red used to be my favorite color, but now it just reminds me of my old second-grade teacher, Mr. Pane. Luckily, I didn't see him. I used to call him “Mr. Pain in the Neck.”

“Mr. Pane's a pain in the neck. Mr. Pane's a pain in the neck!” I sang, but Rose covered my mouth with her sweaty hand. Yuck!

Finally, we marched up to the number 3. It was blue, which was perfect, because blue is my favorite color. Blue is like the sky and the ocean. I saw Ms. Sullivan, and even she was wearing blue. She was standing there in a pretty flowery dress and smiling big. I smiled even bigger.

“Hello, sweetheart,” she said. “You must be Rose's little sister. What's your name?”

“My name is Bean and I'm eight and one-quarter years old.” Ms. Sullivan nodded, so I continued, “I love to read and write and I'm really good at math.”

Ms. Sullivan checked her clipboard and looked a bit confused.

“I don't see a Bean on my class list.”

“Her real name is Chrysanthemum,” Rose said, way too loud.

I told you my real name was terrible. I jabbed Rose in the side and quickly let Ms. Sullivan know what I like to be called. “But please call me Bean.”

“Well, then, Bean, please go line up,” she said.

I was glad she understood how very important it was to not call me Chrysanthemum. I dropped Rose's hand and wrapped my arms around Ms. Sullivan's middle. I liked her already.

“Bye, Rose,” I said, and I gave her a squeeze around her middle too.

Even though I was annoyed that Rose told everyone my real name, she's my big sister and I love her.

Chapter 2
A Not-So-Sweet Start to Third Grade

I
marched right down the winding line behind Ms. Sullivan, and I saw some kids I knew.

John and Aisha gave me a wave, but that wasn't good enough for goody-two-shoes Gabrielle. She had to do this silly curtsy before she said, “Hello there, Bean. It is so very lovely to see you.”

I just rolled my eyes and continued down the line. When I saw a boy I didn't know, I introduced myself. “Hello, my name is Bean.” But before the boy could answer, a voice from the back of the line called, “No cuts!”

I ignored it, though, because I spotted my best friend!

“Carla!” I shouted.

She was wearing a green shirt, which was weird because we've always hated the color green, but I wrapped my arms around her anyway and gave her a big hug. She kinda hugged back, but not that big bear-hug kind that says “I'm so glad to see you.” It was more like a loose, spaghetti-arms hug. Then she turned to Sam, the girl next to her, and started talking.

Sam's a tomboy and wears overalls and a baseball cap. She's okay, I guess, but we had never played with her before.

“Green apple Slurpees are so yummy.” Carla licked her lips.

Wait! Did I just hear that right? I mean, green apple is disgusting! Me and Carla's favorite flavor at 7-Eleven had always been blue raspberry.

“It was so funny when you got that brain freeze and fell on the floor right there in the store.” Sam laughed and mimicked what I guess Carla looked like rolling around and holding her head.

“How was your summer, Carla?” I said, jumping in and trying to get her attention.

“We had so much fun,” she said as she linked arms with Sam.

“Hey, you!” the voice called again from the back of the line. I ignored it again because I was trying to figure out what was going on here.

“I thought we were best friends, Carla.”

“We were,” Carla said in a serious voice. “But best friends return phone calls and emails.”

“I tried to write back, but Grand Mommy's computer is so slow and it took so long to load. I . . . um . . . guess my emails never went through. I got your message, though, and I called you back when I got home, but it was busy and . . . um went to voicemail. I didn't leave a message because I thought I would just call again, but I . . . um . . . never got the chance to. . . . I guess I got caught up in all the fun with Tanya. You know, I really didn't mean to be a bad friend over the summer.” I rambled on and on.

“I said
no cuts
!” the voice sounded really angry this time.

I spun around to see who it was. It was Terrible Tanisha, the class bully. Last year, she sat behind me and blew spitballs. One time, she stuck a big wad of gum in my hair and I had to cut out a huge chunk. She is nasty and mean and just terrible!

“You better get to the back of the line or I'll clobber you!” Tanisha yelled with her fist in the air.

“Fine,” I said. Carla and Sam went back to talking to each other, and I marched to the very end of the line, all alone.

“Loser,” Tanisha said with a laugh as I passed her.

The class started moving. I dragged my feet, trailing behind. I followed as the line wove in and out of the other groups of kids and up to the main building. Carla was holding the big red door for everyone.

I was about to try and talk to her again, butâ
slam!
She shut the door right before I got through. Oh . . . that was cold!

I pushed open the heavy door and stomped the rest of the way to Room Three, where all the kids were rushing around, trying to find which desk had their name tag on it. I always like to sit right up front, but when I checked the first row of desks, I didn't see my name. There had to be some mistake! All the seats were already filled by Jerry, John, Aisha, Carla, and Sam.

“Aisha, I'm so glad you're sitting next to me,” said Carla with a big cheesy grin. Carla doesn't even like Aisha. She once said Aisha was dumb as a rock.

I didn't have time to feel bad for myself, though. I had to find my seat. I finally spotted my name tag in the fourth row. It wasn't so bad, because it was right by the window, where you could see the whole playground. I put my bag down, but just as I started to sit, Terrible Tanisha slid her big, fat butt into the chair andâ
bang!
She knocked me and my name tag right on the floor.
Ouch!

“Ms. Sullivan!” I yelped.

“What's the problem, ladies?” Ms. Sullivan asked calmly as she walked over. She must not have realized the seriousness of this situation.

“Tanisha just stole my seat.”

“Did not! My name was on this desk!” Tanisha shouted, waving her name tag above her head.

“Was not!”

“Girls, there are plenty of seats for everyone. Bean, why don't you take one of those empty seats in the back?”

“But this one was mine.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Ms. Sullivan said. She turned and headed back to the front of the room. Maybe Ms. Sullivan wasn't so nice after all.

“Tattletale,” whispered Tanisha under her breath as I turned around to look for another seat.

“You can have mine,” Stanley said.

I was about to say no, because Stanley is stinky. He might seriously be the smelliest kid in all of California. But then I realized it was right behind Carla.

“Thanks, Stanley,” I said, and I held my breath.

I slid into my perfect new seat. Carla turned to see what was going on, but then, without even a little trace of a smile, she whipped back around.

“Okay, everyone, we are going to start this morning with a âget to know you' activity,” said Ms. Sullivan. “Everyone will choose a partner, and you will interview each other. Then each pair will come up to the front of the room and share what they've learned.”

I started wiggling in my seat, waiting for the okay from Ms. Sullivan to choose a partner. I needed to be with Carla. I mean, I had to keep trying to make her my friend again.

“Okay, find a partner, but try to pick someone you don't know very well,” Ms. Sullivan said. Then, just like at the start of a race, everyone rushed around the room.

I reached out and tapped Carla's shoulder. “Wanna be partners?” I asked, and smiled my biggest, happiest, please-pick-me smile.

“Sorry, Sam and I are already partners,” Carla sneered. She pulled her chair close to Sam's.

“But . . . you guys already know each other.”

Carla rolled her eyes and said, “So do we, Bean.”

I looked around for another partner. Aisha and Gabrielle were already sitting together by the window. Joshua and John were on the floor in the back. Renee and a new girl were huddled in the library corner. It looked like everyone already had a partner. But then I spotted Jerry sitting alone.

“Jerry! Jerry!” I yelled as I ran toward him, waving my arms in the air to get his attention.

“Sorry, Bean. I'm already partners with Mark,” he said before I even reached his desk.

“Mark? Who is Mark?” I said frantically. “I don't see a Mark.”

“He's new and he's in the bathroom.”

I started to panic. Stinky Stanley was looking at me with puppy-dog eyes from the back of the room. It was nice of him to give me his seat and all, but I didn't want to be his partner now. I wasn't sure I could stand the smell.

Next, I spotted Terrible Tanisha. She obviously didn't have a partner yet because she is m-e-a-n MEAN! I flipped my eyes back and forth. Stanley or Tanisha? Tanisha or Stanley? What kind of choice is that?

I grabbed my notebook and quickly headed over to Stanley, held my breath, and mouthed the words,
Wanna be my partner?

He nodded his head yes a million times.

When Ms. Sullivan saw that Tanisha was all alone, she forced Aisha and Gabrielle to work with her as a threesome. I could tell they were not happy about it at all.

I was not excited to be partners with Stanley either, but at least he was better than Terrible Tanisha.

“Here are some questions to get you started,” Ms. Sullivan said as she wrote on the chalkboard.

Name and birthday

Does your partner have brothers and sisters?

What did your partner do for summer vacation?

Favorite color, food, sport

What does your partner want to be when he/she grows up?

“But feel free to ask and explore whatever seems interesting about your partner. You have the next fifteen minutes to interview each other,” Ms. Sullivan said. “I'll be coming around to see if you need any help.”

I pulled my chair up to Stanley's, but not too close. He smelled like tuna fish mixed with pickle juice and spinach that had sat in the sun on a superhot day.
Eww.

I cleared my throat and tried to sit up straight like one of those interviewers on TV.

“Let's get started. Stanley, when is your birthday?”

“January nineteenth. When is yours?”

“No. I ask the questions,” I told him. “You go after.”

“Sorry,” he said, and I got back to the interview.

I imagined the TV studio lights shining down on us as we sat on the sofa of my very own TV show, called
Bean Time!

“Hello, Stanley,” I started. “Thank you so much for taking time out of your busy schedule to give us this exclusive interview.”

“What does
exclusive
mean?” Stanley asked. He looked back at me blankly, but I just continued because this was
my
TV show. “Tell me about your family. Do you have a mom and a dad?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Any brothers or sisters?”

“Nope,” said Stanley with a shake of his head.

“Really? No fair! I have two and they are so annoying,” I said as I made a note in my notebook. Then I continued, “How was your summer vacation?”

“Good.”

Ms. Sullivan walked by just then, and said, “Stanley, try to answer with more than one word.”

I was a little annoyed that she was interrupting my TV show, but I let it go because she's the boss of the classroom, you know.

“My summer was good,” Stanley said. Then he added, “I went to Disneyland andâ”

“Awesome,” I interrupted. “What else?”

“I went to my grandma's house.”

“Me too!” I shouted.

“Did you have fun?” Stanley asked.

“I told you not to ask questions,” I reminded him. “What's your favorite color and food and sport?”

“Well, I guess my favorite color is green.”

“Ugh!” I scrunched up my nose. “I hate green.”

“I also like blue.”

“That's better,” I said, and made some more notes in my notebook.

“And I like carrots and pretzels and ice cream,” Stanley continued.

“Yuck, double yuck . . . and yummy,” I responded. “And?”

“And what?” he asked.

“What's your favorite sport?” I said, without even checking the board.

“I don't really play sports.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“You don't?”

“Nope. Not really, but I can play the saxophone. I want to be a famous musician when I grow up.”

The saxophone is a cool instrument. I listened to a supergood guy named John Coltrane play the saxophone on one of Dad's CDs. I couldn't imagine Stanley ever being as cool as him.

“Okay. Time to switch interviewers,” Ms. Sullivan called from the front of the room.

“Umm . . . ,” Stanley mumbled, and peeked at the questions on the chalkboard. “What is yourâ”

“Hold it!” I said, stopping him. I already knew all the questions, so I gave him all the info at once. “My name is Bean Gibson. I am eight and a quarter and my birthday is June fifth. I have a mom and dad and two annoying sisters. Well, Rose isn't terrible, but you know. I had a superfun summer because, while my sisters where at sleepaway camp, I got to go to my grand mommy's house and spend the whole summer playing with Tanya. She's my cousin, but she is also my best friend . . . now. My favorite color is blue. I h-a-t-e HATE the color green. My favorite foods are blue raspberry Slurpees and Cheetos and pasta. I hate pickles and tuna. I like running fast and riding my bike.”

Stanley's pen was scribbling a zillion miles a minute. I stopped so he could catch up.

“Did you get all that?” I asked.

“Almost.”

“Well, how much did you get?”

“Um . . . your name and your birthday.”

“Good grief,” I said, and then I repeated everything again, real slow.

“Um, Bean? Can I at least ask one of the questions?”

“Fine. What's left?”

“Um. What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“Hmm . . . I don't really know. Maybe a fireman . . . I mean firewoman. Maybe a nurse, like my mom. Maybe an astronaut.”

“Okay, time's up. Everyone back to your seats,” Ms. Sullivan called from the front of the room.

BOOK: Lone Bean