Miss Brooks has Story Nook first thing before school, and I don’t like to miss it.

But whenever I take the shortcut past Billy Toomey’s house,

he grabs my hat and yells, “I’m going to get you, Missy!”

It’s vexing.

So mostly, I take the long way to school.

But today it was raining and I was late. . . .

I slipped into Story Nook.

Then, suddenly, there was a crack of thunder.

All the lights went out!

“It’s too dark to read. So let’s huddle in close and make up our own tales,” said Miss Brooks.

“I mainly like to read stories,” I said. “Not tell them.”

“Good readers make wonderful storytellers,” said Miss Brooks.

In a squeaky voice, Violet said, “I love the dark. Maybe we’ll see ghosts!”

“Violet loves ghosts more than anything,” said Plum.

“I love stories more than anything,” said Miss Brooks. “So let’s close our eyes and let our minds wander. Everyone has a tale to tell.”

“I’ve got nothing,” I said.

“One way to begin is to think of a problem that needs solving,” said Miss Brooks.

My problem was Billy Toomey. But there was no way I was going to make up a story about him.

“Or sometimes,” said Miss Brooks, “you can start with an interesting character.”

Wilbur said aliens in spaceships were interesting.

Violet said she liked ghosts.

Plum thought aliens and ghosts were too scary.

I thought it would take more than aliens or ghosts to scare Billy Toomey.

I wondered if anything would. . . .

“An ogre lives down the street from me . . . ,” I said.

“That’s interesting,” said Wilbur.

“Really?” said Violet. “An ogre?”

“Yes, and she has a bunch of wild animals for pets.”

“That’s an excellent start!” said Miss Brooks. “What kind of animals?”

“Graciela has a lion, an alligator, and maybe a couple hyenas. And disgusting smells drift up from her basement. Probably from the snake.”

“Why doesn’t she just have a dog?” Wilbur asked.

“According to Graciela, snakes make great pets. She doesn’t have to walk them and they don’t bark.”

“I’d rather hear about kittens,” said Plum.

“Ghosts,” said Violet.

“Now what happens, Missy?” asked Miss Brooks. “Stories need action.”

“Graciela’s snake gets out of its cage.”

“But then Graciela catches it right away. The end!” said Plum.

“Not so fast!” I said.

“You’re right, Missy,” said Miss Brooks. “This story needs more plot—what happens next?”

“Her snake slithers up the street to that exasperating Billy Toomey’s house,” I said.

“It wraps around him and squeezes so hard, his eyes pop out. He won’t be bothering anyone anymore.”

“Whoa!” said Wilbur.

“I guess that takes care of Billy Toomey!” said Violet.

“Why can’t there be kittens?” whimpered Plum.

“And poor Graciela,” I said, on a roll now, “came to a wretched end.”

“Really? How wretched?” asked Miss Brooks.

“Well, her lion finished her off. She’s dead, dead, dead.”

“Is she a ghost now?” asked Violet.

“Why would you get rid of Graciela? She wasn’t bothering anyone!” said Plum.

“Plum has a good point, Missy. We all like stories to have satisfying endings,” said Miss Brooks.

So I said, “Okay, she doesn’t get eaten. . . .”

“Instead,” said Wilbur, “Graciela gets on a spaceship and returns to her planet!”

“Too lame!” I said.

“The Kitten Planet?” said Plum.

“Too tame!”

“The Ghost Planet,” said Violet.

“All Violet’s stories are the same,” said Wilbur.

“I’d like to know what happens to that snake,” said Miss Brooks.

“Well,” I said, “Graciela decided snakes might be too much trouble after all.”

“So what did she do with it?” Plum asked.

Storytelling was full of questions.

“She gave it to me!” I said at last.

“But what will you do with it?” Wilbur asked.

Suddenly, the lights came back on. Story Nook was over.

But my story still needed an ending. . . .

The next morning I wasn’t late, but I took the shortcut to school anyway.

When Billy Toomey said, “I’m going to get you!” I was ready. I gave him my best snake-eyed stare and said:

“Hey, Billy, did I ever tell you about the enormous, slimy boa constrictor my neighbor Graciela gave me?

“It hisses and flicks its tongue, and slithers around the

neighborhood, sniffing out its favorite meal . . .”

“. . . which is exasperating boys like YOU.”

At Story Nook, Miss Brooks asked, “Did you think more about how to end your story, Missy?”

“I did. And I told the whole slimy tale to Billy Toomey.”

“Really? What did Billy think?”

“He loved it!”

I loved it too! It was a revolting tale with a happy ending.

And I made it up myself.