The Magic Pigeon Trap
Grace Erickson is tired of losing . . . to a boy! Her classmate—and rival—Sean is always first. But that’s about to end, starting with the school’s annual talent show. That is, until Grace can’t master her winning magic trick.
Grace won’t back down even when she feels trapped into helping everyone else. But how far will she go to bring home the prize? Is it worth alienating Stephie, her best friend, and disappointing both of her little brothers? And why is Sean suddenly showing up everywhere and giving her that look?
See how two failed magic tricks, four boxes of tissues, and a handful of oatmeal cookies help Grace receive the admiration she deserves rather than the attention she covets. And watch as she realizes there’s more to life than winning first prize.
Nancy Cortelyou, Saffron Writes
Grace won’t back down even when she feels trapped into helping everyone else. But how far will she go to bring home the prize? Is it worth alienating Stephie, her best friend, and disappointing both of her little brothers? And why is Sean suddenly showing up everywhere and giving her that look?
See how two failed magic tricks, four boxes of tissues, and a handful of oatmeal cookies help Grace receive the admiration she deserves rather than the attention she covets. And watch as she realizes there’s more to life than winning first prize.
Nancy Cortelyou, Saffron Writes
Grounded For Life
A heart-shaped locket might keep Grace Erickson’s bubble gum out of view, but will it keep her out of trouble? The boys have the short-hair advantage for sneaking gum into school (hidden behind their ears--gross!), so Grace and her two besties are forced to get creative.
School’s Career Week inspires this bubble-gum-chewing trio to lead by example and make the school a safer place. They form the Secret Heart Club and challenge the boys with new bubble-gum tricks. Grace is at the top of her game until she starts stretching the rules at school—and at home.
The truth comes out in the wash—literally—when Grace’s mom finds pink and purple gum patches all over the latest load of laundry. Will Grace survive another life lesson or two with, well, grace?
Nancy Cortelyou, Saffron Writes
School’s Career Week inspires this bubble-gum-chewing trio to lead by example and make the school a safer place. They form the Secret Heart Club and challenge the boys with new bubble-gum tricks. Grace is at the top of her game until she starts stretching the rules at school—and at home.
The truth comes out in the wash—literally—when Grace’s mom finds pink and purple gum patches all over the latest load of laundry. Will Grace survive another life lesson or two with, well, grace?
Nancy Cortelyou, Saffron Writes
A Working De-Lemon
Grace Erickson has one fear: babysitting! The last time didn’t go
so well, and now she needs money to get her bike fixed. Without it, she’s stuck
in a house with two annoying little brothers on a street with no friends and no
excitement—and a constant stream of moms who want her to babysit their little
monsters.
It’s a dilemma! Scratch that. It’s a de-lemon.
So Grace takes her lemons and makes lemonade—but no money. Then things quickly
go to the dogs when Grace's best friend, Stephie, brainstorms their next
business venture: walking the neighbor’s trio of pups.
Put your head together with Grace as she starts to think for herself
and learns that best friends don’t have to lead identical live to remain BFFs.
Nancy Cortelyou, Saffron Writes
so well, and now she needs money to get her bike fixed. Without it, she’s stuck
in a house with two annoying little brothers on a street with no friends and no
excitement—and a constant stream of moms who want her to babysit their little
monsters.
It’s a dilemma! Scratch that. It’s a de-lemon.
So Grace takes her lemons and makes lemonade—but no money. Then things quickly
go to the dogs when Grace's best friend, Stephie, brainstorms their next
business venture: walking the neighbor’s trio of pups.
Put your head together with Grace as she starts to think for herself
and learns that best friends don’t have to lead identical live to remain BFFs.
Nancy Cortelyou, Saffron Writes
No Such Thing As Free Goldfish
A barking kindergartner does not make for a very fun pet. Grace’s youngest brother has taken on the role of family dog while they wait for their parents to agree to a real pet.
As luck would have it, Grace’s best friend’s dog just had puppies—but Grace is pretty sure she prefers cats. How will she get her allergic-to-cats mom and her I-had-fish-when-I-was-your-age dad to agree to a furry four-legged member of the family?
See how the Ericksons take it one pet at a time as they start their menagerie with some free goldfish from the school carnival. But at what cost is free? What happens to the fish—and the family—will have you wondering if a puppy is the right choice for this family.
Nancy Cortelyou, Saffron Writes
Read the first chapter of
No Such Thing As Free Goldfish
Cats and Dogs
I stood at the front of the classroom and cleared my throat. When all eyes were on me, I recited my haiku:
“Kitten, cute, fluffy,
Hunting, stalking, pouncing, quick,
Purring, cunning cat.”
“Thank you, Grace,” Mrs. Wagner said.
I walked past Stephie, who gave me a not bad shrug, even though she was a total dog person. Right now, it was sort of okay for me to like cats since Stephie was still mad at her dog, Tinker Bell. A few months ago, she opened the front door to her house, and Tinker took off. We spent the whole day looking for her. Tinker Bell came back that night, dirty and hungry. Later, Stephie found out that Tinker was going to have puppies. And Stephie spent the whole summer in the doghouse.
Mrs. Wagner looked around the room and asked, “Who would like to be next?”
“I’ll go,” Sean said, without raising his hand. He leapt up, reciting his poem and acting it out before he was even in front of the class.
“Sports, soccer, football,
Pulverizing blood tackles,
Bruises, cuts, scrapes. Fun!”
Josh and Dan stood up, clapping and cheering. I rolled my eyes at Karen, sitting in the next aisle over. Her whole body did an ew, gross shudder. She whispered, “Yours was the best.” Karen knows that her cat, Tina, inspired my poem. She’s so sleek and pretty, and I love the way she arches her back when I pet her. Every time I’m at Karen’s house, I spend my first five minutes with Tina, before she walks away.
Mrs. Wagner coughed and gave the boys the look. They sat down right away. “Thank you, Sean,” Mrs. Wagner said. “That was quite . . . visual. Well, it looks like we’re out of time. So on Monday, the rest of the class will read. Now, I want to remind everyone to come to the school’s fall carnival tomorrow. There’ll be lots of games and activities for the whole family.” She handed out a schedule to everyone. “I’m glad so many of you fifth-graders have signed up for our three activities. Remember that if you volunteered, please bring one parent to help.”
Last week Stephie asked me to sign up for the coloring table with her. I’d moaned and said, “I do that all the time with Will.”
“Perfect,” she’d said. Sometimes Stephie doesn’t get what I’m saying. And that’s how I ended up volunteering for more of the same stuff I get at home.
The bell rang. “I hope to see everyone there,” Mrs. Wagner said.
I walked with Stephie out to the carpool area. “Hey, do you want to come over?”
“Can’t. I have to puppy-sit.”
“Oh, you’re lucky.” Whenever I went to Stephie’s house over the summer, I headed straight for the puppies, stepping over the gate and sitting down in pure happiness. The puppies crawled over my legs and jumped to kiss my face. “How old are they now?” I asked.
“Six weeks. And I have to find them homes.”
“Can you tell what they are yet? Besides poodle?”
“No. The dad must have been a mutt, because all five of them look different. Whatever they are, Mom keeps reminding me that they’re not purebred. So we can’t sell them for very much.” Stephie threw her hands up in the air just like a parent.
“So, your mom is still”—I lowered my voice a little—“you know, mad?”
“Yeah. And all I did was open the door.”
I heard my brother, Will, barking before I saw him running circles around my other brother, Jack. “Bark, bark. Bark, bark.” He ran over to say hi to us in dogspeak. “Bark.”
Stephie barked back. She loves my little brothers and plays along with whatever Will does. Right now Will was pretending to be our family’s dog until we get a real one.
“Meow,” I said.
Stephie glared at me.
“Oh, Gracie,” Will said. “I’m a dog.” He made a sour-lemon face at me.
“Okay, you can be my puppy,” I said, patting the top of his head. I waved good-bye to Stephie and walked Will over to our car. He barked at all the students along the way.
I like all animals. Well, not all—horses scare me. But cute, cuddly animals, like dogs and cats, are great. It’s just that dogs are kind of like boys, goofy and clumsy. And dogs need to be taught to go outside.
I like cats a little bit better. They’re smart, graceful, and independent, and they get what a litter box is for right away. I’ve read all sorts of books about cats and how to take care of them. I can name most of the breeds. But despite all that, I know I’ll never have a cat. At least not until I’m eighteen. My mom is allergic. Within ten minutes of being around a cat, Mom’s eyes get all puffy and red. Then she starts sneezing. Mom made it quite clear we could never have a cat in the house.
My brothers and I have wanted a pet since before forever—which means we keep asking for a dog. Mom has yet to agree. She keeps telling us we have to wait until Will is old enough. One time after Mom said, “Well, no, not yet,” I got out the calendar and wrote dog on the next three Saturdays to remind myself to ask again. By the second week, the calendar had disappeared and then I forgot to ask. So that plan didn’t work.
Most kids cry when they don’t get what they want. Then their parents give in. Not my mom. Dad says Mom is the most practical person he has ever met. Then Mom says something about Dad being the most impractical person she has ever met. This makes both of them laugh. I don’t completely get what they think is so funny. But I do know this about my mom: you can’t whine to get your way. You have to come up with a good reason. That’s hard.
Today I had a new plan. First, I needed to see if Mom was in a good mood. I waited until we drove out of the school’s parking lot, then I asked, “Mom, how old does Will have to be before we can have a pet?”
“I don’t know,” Mom said, not really paying attention.
“Mommy, I’m old enough,” Will said.
“Old enough for what?” Mom asked.
“A dog,” all three of us said.
“Oh, that reminds me. I saw Mrs. Ferguson today, and she told me how her dog, Zach, chewed up all the pillows on her couch while she was out. Dogs are a lot more work than you think.”
I wished Mom would stop talking to our neighbors. She always comes back with another bad dog story to share.
Then Mom said, “We’ll just have to wait and see. Besides, it’s not just Will who needs to be ready. Everyone in the family will need to help take care of a dog. Feeding and training him. Taking him for walks. Scooping up his poop.”
Mom was talking in her everyday, normal voice, like she does with the neighbors, so I went for it. “But Mom”—I leaned forward in my seat to make sure she heard every word—“I’ve already lived out almost two-thirds of my possible home life. If we wait too long, I’ll be in college.” Logical, right?
Jack’s eyes got really big. He gave an enthusiastic nod at my reasoning and joined in. “Yeah, me too. Well, almost.”
“Good grief,” Mom said. “We have plenty of time before the two of you go off to college.”
I flopped against the back of my seat and folded my arms. Okay, so I needed a better plan.
There was a part of me that wanted a pet right away. And then there was a part of me that agreed with Mom. I was a little scared of getting any pet because of Will—a boy, a kindergartner, and the destroyer of all the stuffed animals he has ever owned. Well, almost.
Will used to have a huge pile of stuffed animals in his room. Now he was down to three. Only one of those stuffed animals had its eyes left. One was missing an ear. Will had destroyed them along with every other toy he’d ever owned. His stuffed animals never last more than a year. And after he plays with them way too hard, he starts crying and says, “Mommy, it’s broke.”
Mom always asks the same thing: “Will, how did this happen?”
“I don’t know,” Will always says. “I was just playing.”
“Well, what were you playing?” Mom says.
And Will, with tears running down his face, answers with something like, “Bunny wanted to learn how to jump high. I was help . . . help . . . helping him jump off the stairs.”
That’s as far as Mom and Will ever get. Will is crying so hard he can no longer talk. Mom sits with him in the rocking chair until he quiets down. Then she says, “Let me see what I can do.”
The destroyed animal and all its parts are placed on Mom’s dresser for a couple of weeks, and then they disappear. It was the same story no matter which animal. Once it was placed on the dresser, you knew it was a goner.
What if we got a cute little puppy and Will tried to teach it to jump? And the puppy ended up on Mom’s dresser. Scary.
I thought I just might have to wait until I was in college before I could safely have a pet—dog or cat. But that would take forever. Plus, every time I went over to a friend’s house, I was reminded that we didn’t have a pet. Even when I visited Mrs. Ferguson with her three dogs, I was reminded. The only “pet” we had at home was Will with his pretend barking. If we had a real pet, life would be perfect.
No Such Thing As Free Goldfish
Cats and Dogs
I stood at the front of the classroom and cleared my throat. When all eyes were on me, I recited my haiku:
“Kitten, cute, fluffy,
Hunting, stalking, pouncing, quick,
Purring, cunning cat.”
“Thank you, Grace,” Mrs. Wagner said.
I walked past Stephie, who gave me a not bad shrug, even though she was a total dog person. Right now, it was sort of okay for me to like cats since Stephie was still mad at her dog, Tinker Bell. A few months ago, she opened the front door to her house, and Tinker took off. We spent the whole day looking for her. Tinker Bell came back that night, dirty and hungry. Later, Stephie found out that Tinker was going to have puppies. And Stephie spent the whole summer in the doghouse.
Mrs. Wagner looked around the room and asked, “Who would like to be next?”
“I’ll go,” Sean said, without raising his hand. He leapt up, reciting his poem and acting it out before he was even in front of the class.
“Sports, soccer, football,
Pulverizing blood tackles,
Bruises, cuts, scrapes. Fun!”
Josh and Dan stood up, clapping and cheering. I rolled my eyes at Karen, sitting in the next aisle over. Her whole body did an ew, gross shudder. She whispered, “Yours was the best.” Karen knows that her cat, Tina, inspired my poem. She’s so sleek and pretty, and I love the way she arches her back when I pet her. Every time I’m at Karen’s house, I spend my first five minutes with Tina, before she walks away.
Mrs. Wagner coughed and gave the boys the look. They sat down right away. “Thank you, Sean,” Mrs. Wagner said. “That was quite . . . visual. Well, it looks like we’re out of time. So on Monday, the rest of the class will read. Now, I want to remind everyone to come to the school’s fall carnival tomorrow. There’ll be lots of games and activities for the whole family.” She handed out a schedule to everyone. “I’m glad so many of you fifth-graders have signed up for our three activities. Remember that if you volunteered, please bring one parent to help.”
Last week Stephie asked me to sign up for the coloring table with her. I’d moaned and said, “I do that all the time with Will.”
“Perfect,” she’d said. Sometimes Stephie doesn’t get what I’m saying. And that’s how I ended up volunteering for more of the same stuff I get at home.
The bell rang. “I hope to see everyone there,” Mrs. Wagner said.
I walked with Stephie out to the carpool area. “Hey, do you want to come over?”
“Can’t. I have to puppy-sit.”
“Oh, you’re lucky.” Whenever I went to Stephie’s house over the summer, I headed straight for the puppies, stepping over the gate and sitting down in pure happiness. The puppies crawled over my legs and jumped to kiss my face. “How old are they now?” I asked.
“Six weeks. And I have to find them homes.”
“Can you tell what they are yet? Besides poodle?”
“No. The dad must have been a mutt, because all five of them look different. Whatever they are, Mom keeps reminding me that they’re not purebred. So we can’t sell them for very much.” Stephie threw her hands up in the air just like a parent.
“So, your mom is still”—I lowered my voice a little—“you know, mad?”
“Yeah. And all I did was open the door.”
I heard my brother, Will, barking before I saw him running circles around my other brother, Jack. “Bark, bark. Bark, bark.” He ran over to say hi to us in dogspeak. “Bark.”
Stephie barked back. She loves my little brothers and plays along with whatever Will does. Right now Will was pretending to be our family’s dog until we get a real one.
“Meow,” I said.
Stephie glared at me.
“Oh, Gracie,” Will said. “I’m a dog.” He made a sour-lemon face at me.
“Okay, you can be my puppy,” I said, patting the top of his head. I waved good-bye to Stephie and walked Will over to our car. He barked at all the students along the way.
I like all animals. Well, not all—horses scare me. But cute, cuddly animals, like dogs and cats, are great. It’s just that dogs are kind of like boys, goofy and clumsy. And dogs need to be taught to go outside.
I like cats a little bit better. They’re smart, graceful, and independent, and they get what a litter box is for right away. I’ve read all sorts of books about cats and how to take care of them. I can name most of the breeds. But despite all that, I know I’ll never have a cat. At least not until I’m eighteen. My mom is allergic. Within ten minutes of being around a cat, Mom’s eyes get all puffy and red. Then she starts sneezing. Mom made it quite clear we could never have a cat in the house.
My brothers and I have wanted a pet since before forever—which means we keep asking for a dog. Mom has yet to agree. She keeps telling us we have to wait until Will is old enough. One time after Mom said, “Well, no, not yet,” I got out the calendar and wrote dog on the next three Saturdays to remind myself to ask again. By the second week, the calendar had disappeared and then I forgot to ask. So that plan didn’t work.
Most kids cry when they don’t get what they want. Then their parents give in. Not my mom. Dad says Mom is the most practical person he has ever met. Then Mom says something about Dad being the most impractical person she has ever met. This makes both of them laugh. I don’t completely get what they think is so funny. But I do know this about my mom: you can’t whine to get your way. You have to come up with a good reason. That’s hard.
Today I had a new plan. First, I needed to see if Mom was in a good mood. I waited until we drove out of the school’s parking lot, then I asked, “Mom, how old does Will have to be before we can have a pet?”
“I don’t know,” Mom said, not really paying attention.
“Mommy, I’m old enough,” Will said.
“Old enough for what?” Mom asked.
“A dog,” all three of us said.
“Oh, that reminds me. I saw Mrs. Ferguson today, and she told me how her dog, Zach, chewed up all the pillows on her couch while she was out. Dogs are a lot more work than you think.”
I wished Mom would stop talking to our neighbors. She always comes back with another bad dog story to share.
Then Mom said, “We’ll just have to wait and see. Besides, it’s not just Will who needs to be ready. Everyone in the family will need to help take care of a dog. Feeding and training him. Taking him for walks. Scooping up his poop.”
Mom was talking in her everyday, normal voice, like she does with the neighbors, so I went for it. “But Mom”—I leaned forward in my seat to make sure she heard every word—“I’ve already lived out almost two-thirds of my possible home life. If we wait too long, I’ll be in college.” Logical, right?
Jack’s eyes got really big. He gave an enthusiastic nod at my reasoning and joined in. “Yeah, me too. Well, almost.”
“Good grief,” Mom said. “We have plenty of time before the two of you go off to college.”
I flopped against the back of my seat and folded my arms. Okay, so I needed a better plan.
There was a part of me that wanted a pet right away. And then there was a part of me that agreed with Mom. I was a little scared of getting any pet because of Will—a boy, a kindergartner, and the destroyer of all the stuffed animals he has ever owned. Well, almost.
Will used to have a huge pile of stuffed animals in his room. Now he was down to three. Only one of those stuffed animals had its eyes left. One was missing an ear. Will had destroyed them along with every other toy he’d ever owned. His stuffed animals never last more than a year. And after he plays with them way too hard, he starts crying and says, “Mommy, it’s broke.”
Mom always asks the same thing: “Will, how did this happen?”
“I don’t know,” Will always says. “I was just playing.”
“Well, what were you playing?” Mom says.
And Will, with tears running down his face, answers with something like, “Bunny wanted to learn how to jump high. I was help . . . help . . . helping him jump off the stairs.”
That’s as far as Mom and Will ever get. Will is crying so hard he can no longer talk. Mom sits with him in the rocking chair until he quiets down. Then she says, “Let me see what I can do.”
The destroyed animal and all its parts are placed on Mom’s dresser for a couple of weeks, and then they disappear. It was the same story no matter which animal. Once it was placed on the dresser, you knew it was a goner.
What if we got a cute little puppy and Will tried to teach it to jump? And the puppy ended up on Mom’s dresser. Scary.
I thought I just might have to wait until I was in college before I could safely have a pet—dog or cat. But that would take forever. Plus, every time I went over to a friend’s house, I was reminded that we didn’t have a pet. Even when I visited Mrs. Ferguson with her three dogs, I was reminded. The only “pet” we had at home was Will with his pretend barking. If we had a real pet, life would be perfect.
