Remember me? I’m Stella Batts. This is my third book. Maybe you’ve read my first two books. If you haven’t, you can start right here.
My mom says if you write at least three books that are all connected then you have a series. So when this book is finished I’ll be the author of a series! Hooray!
But so far I’m only on Chapter 1. Here’s a list of things that happened since the end of my last book:
1. My best friend, Willa, moved away to Pennsylvania.
2. I changed my favorite color from yellow to blue.
3. My hair grew an eensy weensy bit so it isn’t as short as a pixie cut anymore, but it’s still not long enough for a ponytail. Sometimes I clip the sides up with barrettes.
Friday afternoons, it’s Mom’s turn to drive us home from school. “Us” means me, my little sister, Penny, and her best friend, Zoey. It used to mean Willa too, before she moved.
Today Dad’s car pulled up in the school parking lot. Mom is pregnant, and her stomach has gotten super big. It’s hard for her to squeeze into the driver’s seat behind the steering wheel. So Dad has been doing carpool instead. That’s another thing that changed since my last book.
After we were all buckled in, Dad started to drive away. “Okay, what game are we playing?” he asked. When Dad carpools, we play car games.
“Geography,” I said.
This is how you play Geography. You think of the name of a place, like Arkansas. And then the next person has to use the last letter of your place, which would be an “s.” So they could say something like Salt Lake City. The person after that would have to use the “y.” It goes on and on until you can’t think of any more places.
“I hate that game,” Penny said. “Stella knows more places because she’s eight, so it’s not fair. How about I Spy?”
You probably already know the game I Spy, but just in case, it’s when you say, “I spy with my little eye,” and then you describe something you see out the window. Like, “something green,” or “something metal.” The other players try to guess before we drive by and can’t see it anymore.
“We ALWAYS play that game,” I said.
“Zoey will be our deciding vote,” Dad said.
Penny clasped her hands together and leaned toward Zoey. “Please, pretty please, pick I Spy,” she said. “I’ll be your best friend.”
Zoey giggled. “You already are my best friend,” she said. “Okay, it’s I Spy.”
If Willa were the deciding vote, it would have been Geography, but of course Zoey picked I Spy.
“Yay!” Penny said. “I’ll go first. I spy with my little eye.”
“What?” Zoey asked.
“Hold on, I’m still spying.”
We drove past Lee Avenue, which is the street Willa used to live on. I knew she wouldn’t be there, but I turned my head to look anyway.
“Dad, what time is it?” I asked.
“It’s two-fifty,” he said.
I had been trying to call Willa, but it’s hard because of the time change. Pennsylvania is three hours later than California, which meant it was 5:50 there. That’s a good time to call. “Can I use your cell phone please?”
“I’ll get it for you at the next red light.”
There was a traffic light up ahead, and it turned red just as we got to it. Dad handed me his phone.
“I spy with my little eye something yellow and red,” Penny said.
Zoey started guessing as I dialed. I pressed the phone against my ear. Mrs. Getter answered after two rings.
“Hi, it’s Stella Batts. Is Willa there?”
“Stella Batts, how lovely to hear your voice. She’s just in the other room. Hold on a moment.” I heard her put the phone down, and then I heard her call out, “Willa! Stella’s on the phone!”
And then I heard Willa say, “I don’t want to talk to her.”
Those are exactly the words I heard: I don’t want to talk to her.
But I knew I must have heard her wrong. Why wouldn’t Willa want to talk to me? I didn’t do anything wrong.
Or did I? I thought about the things we did before Willa left Somers. We played a hundred games of Spit, we had a bunch of sleepovers, we went to Brody’s Grill and sat by ourselves at the table. We never fought. She was never mad at me, not once!
Mrs. Getter picked up the phone again. “I’m sorry, Stel. We’re headed out for a picnic dinner, but I’ll make sure she calls you back another time.”
A picnic with Willa in the redwood forest had been number 4 on my wish list of things to do before Willa moved away, but we didn’t have time to go. Now she was going without me—not to the redwood forest, but somewhere in Pennsylvania. Maybe somewhere she liked even better. And she wouldn’t even talk to me first. That seemed kind of mean. I didn’t understand. Willa is NEVER a meanie.
Is it possible that she moved to Pennsylvania and turned mean? Oh no, I hoped not.
Mrs. Getter said goodbye. I heard the phone click when she hung up. I kept the phone pressed to my ear for a few more seconds, just waiting. Maybe Willa would come to the phone after all. But I knew the line was dead and she really wouldn’t.
“Willa wasn’t there?” Dad asked when I finally handed the phone back to him.
“She’s going on a picnic,” I said.
“Hurry up and guess!” Penny said. “You didn’t guess yet, and it’s about to be too late!”
“I don’t want to play,” I said.
“Then I win,” Penny said. “It was the lady in the car next to us. She had a yellow and red clip in her hair, and her car just turned down that street.”
“That was a good one, Pen,” Dad said.
Now we were on Zoey’s street, and Dad pulled up in front of her house. Zoey’s mom came out to meet her. Dad rolled down the window to talk to her for a couple of minutes, because Zoey and Penny are having a play date on Saturday and they needed to decide what time.
I clicked my heels three times, which is what I do when I want to make a wish, but I didn’t know exactly what to wish for.
After that we drove away. We were going to Batts Confections so that Penny and I could see the candy garden one last time. Dad said it was time for a change, so he’s taking out the garden and putting in a candy circus. I would have put it on my list of things that have changed since my last book, except it hasn’t changed quite yet.
Batts Confections is in an outdoor shopping center. There wasn’t a parking spot in front of our store, so we parked near Man’s Best Friend. That’s a pet store 109 steps away. Once I counted. “Give a Home to a Pet Who Needs One,” read the sign by the door. Penny ran right up to see the window dogs—you know, the dogs they keep in the cage in the window.
Dad and I walked up behind Penny. There was only one window dog and she was curled up so the top of her head was nestled right by her toes. All you saw was her white fur, like she was a marshmallow. She was kind of a big marshmallow, but still an eensy weensy dog.
The sign in front said “Maltese.” When I was Penny’s age, which is five, I thought those signs were nametags. Now I know it just means the kind of dog. Like I’m a human, but my name isn’t “Human.”
I couldn’t remember ever seeing a Maltese before. It made me think of the malted things we sell at Batts Confections. Malt balls, Maltesers, malted milkshakes.
“Can we go in and look at the other dogs?” Penny asked.
Before Dad had a chance to answer, the door opened and two people came out—a woman and a girl. The girl was tall enough to be at least ten years old. She was dressed like a grown-up. Instead of jeans, she had on slacks, and a white blouse tucked in. She was holding the woman’s hand, but she dropped it as soon as they stepped out onto the sidewalk, and she ran up to the window.
“C’mon, let’s go,” the woman called.
“Not until you promise we’re coming back.”
“Fine, I promise.”
“When, Mom?”
She was speaking with an accent, and actually she didn’t say “Mom.” She said “Mum.” I happen to know that’s the way they say “Mom” in some other countries.
“After lunch,” her mom said. “In about forty-five minutes or so.”
Her mom DIDN’T have an accent. How weird is that? Aren’t kids supposed to sound like their parents? Maybe she was just pretending to have an accent. Willa and I did that sometimes, but ours never sounded as real as this girl’s did.
“And then we’ll play with her?”
“Yes.”
“Forty-five minutes, and then we’ll play with you, sleepyhead,” the girl said, still with an accent. They started to walk toward Brody’s Grill, which is the restaurant in the shopping center, and I heard the girl say, “Can I have a plate of chips for lunch?” A plate of chips? Didn’t she mean a bag of chips?
Penny tugged on my arm. “C’mon, let’s go,” she said.
