Morgan and the Money

Ted Staunton

Illustrations by Bill Slavin

Formac Publishing Company Limited

Halifax

1

The Truth Is Not Fun

“Morgan, Fire One!” My friend Charlie dings a monster spitball off the library light.

“I’ll do better,” I say. It’s true. Bammo, I nail a juicy one right to the ceiling.

The librarian is out of the room. At the next table the girls are getting goofier. We’re all supposed to be looking up animals for our class trip to the zoo, but it sounds like we’re there already.

“Give it, Chantel!”

“I can’t. Aldeen ate it.”

“EWWWWWWWWWW,” they all say at once.

Aldeen Hummel, the Godzilla of Grade Three, is sitting by herself as usual. Her head is down so all you see is her witchy hair, sticking out like spider legs. Aldeen isn’t coming to the zoo; she hasn’t brought in her eight dollars.

The librarian comes back. Everybody shuts up. I look at our report. “Char-lee,” I whisper, “Giraffe has two fs.”

Charlie sighs, but hey, I’ve promised myself to tell the truth. See, when I first came to this school I got in trouble because I told lies to sound cool. No way is that happening again.

The librarian goes out. Charlie and I start more spitballs. Katelyn sings, “Aldeen, Aldeen, the great big purple jumping bean.” Dumb move, I think to myself as I chew. It’s not smart to get Aldeen mad at you.

Aldeen goes to the pencil sharpener. The girls giggle like goony birds. Aldeen comes back, smiling a crocodile smile. She’s also holding the container from the pencil sharpener. The girls don’t notice — until she dumps the shavings on their heads. Then they go bananas.

The librarian runs back in. “AL-DEEN!”

“Wait,” I say. Everyone stares. I know I’m turning as purple as Aldeen’s sweatsuit, but I have to say what’s true. I point at the girls. “They started it.”

Everybody yells and I swallow my spitball. Oh, yuck.

Back in class I say, “Charlie, it’s not jungel, it’s j-u-n-g-l-e.”

Charlie says, “Morgan, there’s a big green booger on your nose.”

Oh, yuck again. Sometimes the truth is not fun.

2

Snack Time

Sometimes recess is not fun either.

“Tattletale,” sniffs Stephanie.

“Rat fink,” says Katelyn.

Aldeen does not exactly zoom over to thank me either. I stay away from her. It’s easy to do, partly because she scares me a little and partly because she’s up on the dumpster with AJ’s cap.

Instead I play tree tag. I’m the slowest runner in class, so I get caught a lot. Then Ian says he didn’t get tagged.

“Did too,” I say, because I saw and it’s true.

“Get lost,” Ian says.

I’m beginning to think I did better when I lied like crazy.

Then I remember my snack; snacks always make me feel better. This time, though, I’ve forgotten mine in the coat room. I go to the teacher on yard duty. Before, I would have said, “I need to go to the washroom,” because you’re not allowed to go back in for things. Now I say, “May I please go get my snack?”

It works. “Sure,” says the teacher, “but don’t take too long.”

The hall is empty; so is our coat room. Before I can grab my snack I hear a noise from our classroom. I look in. Aldeen Hummel is all alone at our teacher’s desk. The drawer is open. So is a big brown envelope inside it. Something tells me I don’t want to see this. Aldeen turns and spots me. Her eyes squinch up angrily. I get out, fast. Somehow, I don’t feel like a snack any more.

3

Grade Three Racoon

By the end of lunch, though, I am feeling fine. Lunches are great for that, even when my dad sticks in raw broccoli trees instead of cookies. I am burping my last burp when Aldeen walks up to our teacher’s desk and hands in her money to go on the zoo trip.

“I forgot to give you this, this morning,” she says.

Our teacher, Mrs. Ross, looks surprised. She opens her desk drawer and puts the money in the big brown envelope. “I’m glad you’ll be joining us, Aldeen,” she says. I’m not so sure. Aldeen hardly ever comes on trips. I think the teachers are scared she’ll steal the school bus or burn down the museum or something.

Mrs. Ross wants us to draw maps of our own made-up zoos. I start with the snack bar and the gift shop. I’ve got ten dollars saved up for those places on our trip. Just as I’m telling Charlie that you can’t put dinosaurs in, Mrs. Ross says to put our pencils down. She doesn’t look happy.

“Girls and boys,” she says, “The money for one person’s trip to the zoo is missing from my envelope. Have any of you seen someone around my desk or in our classroom who shouldn’t be there?”

Everybody buzzes. Right away I look at Aldeen. She’s looking at me. Except she’s not the Godzilla of Grade Three any more. Her eyes are wide open, with some of her witchy hair tugged across her face where she’s been chewing on it. She looks like a racoon when the porch light flicks on. Aldeen Hummel is scared stiff. I am so stunned I can’t say a word. It’s true.

4

Alien Aldeens from Outer Space

Charlie comes over after school to play space alien invasion on the playfort in my back yard. I’m allowed to make up stuff here because it’s just pretending.

“Say the aliens have three heads and they’re twenty feet tall!”

I’m inching up the slide on my knees.

“With laser beam eyes!” Charlie says, from the top of the playfort, “But we’ve got disintegrators.” He waves our spongeball shooters. “Yeah.” I’m halfway up, and I can feel the back of my jeans tugging down over my bum. “But they’ve also got ten claws and elastic arms and they’re slime green!”

“Hey,” Charlie says, “The T-rexs’ were slime green yesterday.”

“Oh yeah. Okay, they’re like — What should they be?”

“Purple!” we both say, thinking the same thing. “Alien Aldeens from Outer Space!” Charlie crows, and we both laugh. Except as soon as I laugh, it isn’t funny any more. I remember that tomorrow I have to tell on Aldeen. I saw her at the desk, with the envelope, and I bet she took that money. I have to tell the truth.

I’m still climbing but my pants are sliding lower. I’ve got to pull them up. I’m reaching back when, “Look out,” Charlie yells, “Here they come!” He tosses my disintegrator. I let go of the slide and stretch for it as I yank up on my jeans. My knees disappear somewhere. “Gaaaah!” I belly flop down the slide.

“Good move!” Charlie is upside down on the tire swing, dodging so the laser eyes can’t zap him. “Blast ‘em!”

I can’t. I’m too busy lying here at the bottom of the slide thinking about what Alien Aldeen from Outer Space could do to me after I tell on her. It’s scarier than death rays, boy. Forget the snack bar and the gift shop at the zoo: I should buy a helmet and goalie pads.

But do I have to tell, I wonder. Is not telling the same as lying? Maybe; maybe not. I lift my chin off the slide.

In fact, maybe I’m not supposed to tell. Telling on somebody is ratting; they wouldn’t call it ratting if it was good, right? And I don’t know for sure that Aldeen took the money, even if she did give me a funny look. I sit up.

“Come on, Morgan,” Charlie urges, swinging like crazy.

Maybe Aldeen was allowed to be in at recess, I think. I was, why not her? I can’t get her in trouble for no reason. I jump up. I’m gravity-free.

“Duck,” Charlie cries, jumping down, “Aah, you’re zapped!”

“No way,” I shout, “I’ve got my triple Plutonic protection shield.” I dive for my disintegrator gun. I’ve decided not to tell. It’s 29 minutes and 9 seconds — no, ten seconds — no, 11 seconds — anyway, it’s almost 4:30. Soon it will be time for dinner.

5

Chicken with Carrots

I’m not going to be chicken. I’ve decided to tell after all. This morning Mrs. Ross said, “Boys and girls, I can’t find the money. I’d hate to think someone in our class took it, but if it doesn’t turn up soon, I’ll have to cancel our trip.”

Everybody sat up for that one, boy. “Why?” Will called out.

“I can’t take someone untrustworthy along,” Mrs. Ross said.

“Well, how can it just ‘turn up?’” asked Kaely.

“Either I will find it, or perhaps someone will very privately put it back on my desk. I won’t ask who, as long as it’s back.”

Everybody looked at everybody. I looked at Aldeen. She stared out the window. Then she knocked over Ashley’s pencil crayons and stepped on Ian’s toes.

Now it’s recess and she’s swing-hogging. I’m watching her from across the schoolyard while I’m crunching on the dumb carrot sticks I got for my snack. I must have been crazy to think Aldeen didn’t take the money: it would be just like her to wreck the zoo trip. But I can stop her. Then I won’t be a tattletale, I’ll be a hero.

Mrs. Ross is on yard duty; I’m going to tell her right now. Except all at once Aldeen is flying off the swing and burning across the schoolyard like a skinny steam engine. Right at me. I drop my carrots. My stomach climbs up to my ears. I’m about to become mashed potatoes and I didn’t even do anything yet! I ball up my fists — and Aldeen whooshes right by. The Godzilla of Grade Three is after someone else.

Slowly I uncurl my fingers. As I pick up my carrots I think of something: if Aldeen doesn’t bring back the money, she can’t go to the zoo either. She will have to bring it back tomorrow. If she doesn’t, I’ll tell. It’s true.

6

Tough Noogies

She doesn’t bring the money. I can’t believe it. Maybe I’m wrong about Aldeen, but I remember that look she gave me and I know I’m not. The trouble is, she’s also Godzilla. What can I do?

I decide to try a little hint. At recess I say, “I think I know who took the money.”

“Who?” everybody says. Aldeen is listening. I shake my head. “I want to see if they put it back.”

“Sure Morgan,” Matt says, “And you juggle and do karate too!”

Like I said, I told a few stories before. “No, it’s true,” I say.

“Right,” scoffs Sherry. “Maybe it was you.”

Oh-oh. “What?” I say, “No, wait!” but everybody is gone. Aldeen lets the air out of a bunch of bike tires. Now what do I do? I still can’t tell — and not just because I’m chicken, either. That look Aldeen gave me is bugging me, and I don’t know why. I decide to do something scarier than telling. I decide to talk to Aldeen.

Except Aldeen won’t talk to me. She takes off after school. I go after her, but she’s fast and I’m not. She cuts through two back yards while I’m stuck on the first fence. When I finally get to the other street, Aldeen is gone. I puff along, looking for her. Does she even live around here? Who knows. I turn to go back and see a splash of purple behind a scraggly bush.

“Aldeen?” I say.

After a long time she says, “What.”

Now I don’t know what to say. “Is this your house?”

“Maybe.” The place is messy looking. The bush is a prickle bush. “How come you don’t go in?” I ask.

“I forgot my — maybe I don’t want to.”

“Isn’t anybody home?”

Aldeen doesn’t say. I take a deep breath. “I saw you in — ”

Aldeen pops up so fast I jump back. Her hair looks as prickly as the bush. “I didn’t take it!” She pops back down again.

“I never said you did.” It’s true; I thought it, but I never said it. “But what if we can’t go to the zoo?”

“Tough noogies,” says Aldeen. “Zoos stink.”

“But you’re going too,” I say to the bush.

“No way, José,” the bush says back.

I don’t get it. “Why not?”

“Maybe the money is gone.”

“Where’d it go?” I’m feeling stupid.

“Maybe it got spent. For somebody to go to the zoo.”

“Whaaat? You mean you took the money to pay for your zoo trip?”

Aldeen blasts up out of the bushes. “I didn’t take it!”

“Why didn’t your mom and dad pay?”

Aldeen has disappeared again. “There’s no money for trips. My dad never sends any.”

I don’t know what to say. Or do. I start to back away. The bush says, “If I can’t go, nobody goes.” Then Aldeen leaps up and she has that look again. “Tell,” she yells, “see if I care. I didn’t take nothing!”

I know now why that look is bugging me. I saw it in the mirror the day everyone found out I’d been lying. I start to run.

7

Making and Breaking

I go home, then I bike over to Charlie’s. Charlie is throwing a tennis ball at the side of his garage.

“Wanta play?” He tosses me the ball. I throw; Charlie catches. He throws; the ball whumps into my belly button. I throw again. I say, “I really know who took the money.”

“Gonna tell?” Charlie makes a diving one-hander and throws.

“I don’t know.”

The ball bounces off my forehead. “Ow. I mean, what if somebody needed the money? What if they were poor, or ... ”

“Throw,” says Charlie. I throw. “What

if they needed the money to ... to get medicine for their poor old Granny?”

Charlie catches behind his back. “I dunno. Is that true?”

“Yes —” I start, then, “Sort of. I’m just asking like, what if.”

“Well,” Charlie says, throwing, “It’s still not fair that we don’t get to go to the zoo.”

I miss the catch. Charlie’s right. Telling doesn’t help Aldeen, but not telling doesn’t help anyone else. What else is there to do? And then I know. It’s so simple I want to laugh, and maybe have some chips too. “I know how we can go,” I say.

Charlie looks at me.

“It’s true.” I nod. “But you gotta help on a secret mission.”

Charlie shrugs, yes. I’m so happy I accidentally throw the ball through the garage window.

8

The Money Mission

The mission is set for morning recess. Charlie has my zoo treat money, except for some I took out to help pay for the window. He’s going to sneak it onto Mrs. Ross’s desk. I’m going to make sure nobody sees, then we’ll share my snack cookies. Losing my money is not great, but I feel sort of noble, like a knight or something. I mean, I’m doing good stuff I don’t have to do, it will save our trip without me telling stories, and Aldeen will owe me for life. It’s an okay deal.

The bell goes. We whip outside, then sneak back in, spy style. The place is deserted. Almost. “Caretaker,” Charlie hisses. We duck under the stairs and press flat against the wall. I don’t get very flat, but I think I crush the cookies. The caretaker trudges past. We slither up the stairs.The hall stretches out forever. Charlie clutches his pocket to keep the money from jingling. The coast is clear. Then heels are clacking and Mrs. Ross comes around the corner. Charlie dives for the fountain.

Mrs. Ross smiles. “Getting a drink?” Then, “Morgan, may I speak to you?” Charlie steps back and I go over.

“Morgan,” Mrs. Ross says quietly, “It’s about the money. I know you wouldn’t want to tattle but I’ve heard you saw someone in Room 9. If you did, all I want to know is if it was someone from our class?”

9

Truth to Tell

I can barely breathe. My knees have turned to pudding. Oh, no. Why did I have to go blabbing? Mrs. Ross waits. I swallow. The truth; I’ve promised. I swallow again. I look at Mrs. Ross. My brain knows what’s right, but I can’t do it.

I say, “No, he had a wooden leg and an eyepatch.” Okay, it isn’t true, but it should be. I hold my breath.

Mrs. Ross smiles, “Morgan, have you been doing some imagining?”

“I guess.” Forget the smile, I’m toast. She knows I’ve lied.

But Mrs. Ross says, “And you really didn’t see anyone.”

I cross my fingers behind my back. “No,” I say, finally.

“I didn’t think so,” Mrs. Ross says, very gently. “You know, Morgan, sometimes stories can get people into trouble.”

I nod. This isn’t exactly news.

“I meant what I said to the class,” Mrs. Ross goes on. “But as I thought about it more and more, I just couldn’t believe anyone in Room 9 would steal. Then, when I heard you’d seen someone, I didn’t know what to think. But now I do. I think I was wrong to worry about my class. I think someone gave me their money and I forgot and mislaid it. I think we should go to the zoo.”

I stare at her. She’s smiling again; she really means it. Mrs. Ross goes off down the hall.

I feel as if I’ve been on a roller coaster. When I told lies everything went wrong. When I told the truth, everyone got mad. Now I tell a lie and whoosh, everyone’s happy.

I don’t get it, boy, but I do know one thing: we’re going to the zoo. And hey, I’ve just saved my money! I’m going to buy a large fries very soon.

I wobble happily back to Charlie. “Mission’s off,” I grin.

“Whaddya mean?” he says. “I just did it, while you were talking.”

I stare at Charlie for a second. “You mean you . . . NOOOOOOO!” I go bombing for Room 9. Mrs. Ross is already there. She’s staring at a pile of money on her desk. My money. If I tell the truth now she’ll know I lied. If I lie now, she’ll still think I was telling the truth when I really was lying. My brain is spaghetti. What else can I do?

“I forgot,” I say. “The whole class collected money so we could still go on the trip.” It’s true, sort of. I’m a liar, but a noble one.

10

Lunch in the Lurch

It’s cold and rainy at the zoo. The gorillas don’t play, the komodo dragons are sleeping and I sit in a puddle on the benches as we watch the seals. The wildest thing here is Aldeen Hummel. Maybe that’s why the principal and three parent volunteers have come too.

The seals are hungry. So am I. I swish my rubber boots in a puddle and look around. Aldeen has just exploded her bubble gum and it’s stuck in Kaely’s hair.

I don’t think Aldeen ever figured out what I did. When everybody came in that day, Mrs. Ross thanked them. She said the lost money was her fault and everyone could take back their money or she’d add to it and buy popsicles at the zoo. Nobody knew what she was talking about. I couldn’t say the money was mine, and besides, no one would have believed me. Anyway, popsicles sounded good, so everyone shut up and left the money — except Aldeen. She marched right up and took fifty cents. So much for being noble, boy.

And now it’s not even a good popsicle day. I still want one though. I’m hunting in my pack for my snack when Mrs. Ross says, “Morgan, would you have room in there for my lunch bag?” She’s carrying a lot of stuff.

“Sure,” I say, “What are you having?” I’m very interested in lunches.

“I don’t know,” Mrs. Ross laughs, “My husband is the lunch maker.”

She hands me a brown bag and hustles off to make Aldeen come down out of a tree. I put her lunch on the bench and keep digging in my pack.

It’s not until we get to the picnic shelter and Mrs. Ross asks for her lunch that I open my pack again and see the brown bag isn’t there. Luckily, Mrs. Ross has gone to help somebody. I look all over the place, fast as I can, then remember the bench by the seal pool. I never put Mrs. Ross’s lunch in my pack. It’s still on the bench — on the other side of the zoo. “Oh no,” I groan.

“Hussamatter wiv oo?” asks a voice behind me. I turn, and it’s Aldeen, with her mouth full of potato chips, her usual lunch. Her spider-leg hair bounces as she chews.

“I lost Mrs. Ross’s lunch,” I whisper.

Aldeen swallows and looks around. “Wait,” she says. She wipes her fingers on her purple sweatshirt and moves away. A moment later she’s back. “Here,” she says, and hands me a brown paper bag. It looks like — how did she . . .

“Wow, thanks,” I say, “How’d you do that?”

Aldeen shrugs, crumples up her chip bag and throws it at Mark.

I take the lunch over to Mrs. Ross, who thanks me. Walking back to my seat it hits me: Aldeen Hummel, Hummel the Bummel, the Godzilla of Grade Three, has just helped me. Like we were friends or something. Now she’s trying to tip over the garbage can.

“Thanks, Aldeen,” I yell, and then something stranger happens: she smiles at me. For a second she doesn’t even look like Aldeen. She looks . . . well . . . happy.

All at once, squeezing in beside Charlie, I feel great: I have baloney sandwiches to eat, a popsicle coming, and we’re all at the zoo. My bum is wet, I’ve told a few stories, but nobody’s perfect. I did my best. How could anything go wrong?

I pick up a sandwich.

“Hey,” calls our principal from across the shelter, “Has anybody seen my lunch? It’s in a brown paper bag.”

All at once I think I have some explaining to do. Mostly it’s going to be true.

What else is Morgan up to?

Here’s a look at what happens when Morgan signs up for soccer in Great Play, Morgan!

Find this and more in the First Novels Series at www.formac.ca

1

Soccer Genius

“Impossible! Impossible! Land it on the rail! Five-Oh! Go! NOOOOOO!”

Charlie wipes out his board again. Charlie has so many sports trophies it looks like he won the Olympics, but hey, you can’t be good at everything. I’m better at skateboarding. Well, not skateboarding skateboarding. I stink at that. What we’re doing is video game skateboarding.

I’m a pro at that. It’s better anyway — you can eat while you’re playing.

Charlie hands me the controller. As I start my turn, he says, “Did you decide about soccer yet?”

Oh yeah. Soccer. Charlie wants me to sign up with him. His dad will be coaching the team. “Hang on,” I say. I’m reverse grinding along the edge of a skyscraper roof. Right, right, left, down, down, hold on, up, up, upupUP. My fingers are flying. I’m flying. I can do anything. How hard can kicking a ball be, compared to this? Plus Charlie says they have freezies and snacks after every game.

“Sure,” I say, “I’m gonna sign up.”

“Great,” says Charlie.

“Wonderful!” says my mom, looking into the family room. I face plant into a dumpster. I have three thousand points and a new sport.

* * *

After supper, I dig a ball out of the garage and go over to the schoolyard. I figure I’d better try soccer while no one’s around. I’ve never really played it because I don’t like to run that much. But who knows? Maybe I’m a soccer genius.

Or maybe not. My first kick blops along the ground. The second one, I miss, The third one connects. The ball takes off and rattles the fence. Oh, yeah! I shake my fists and do a little jump. My winning goal will be like that.

“Whutcha doin?” a voice asks. I jump again. Aldeen Hummel, the Godzilla of Grade Three, is standing behind me. Where the heck did she come from?

“Um,” I say, “playing soccer.”

Aldeen squinches up her eyes behind her smudgy glasses. Her witchy hair bounces.

“You should try it,” I say, just to say something.

She puts her hands on her hips. “What for?”

Aldeen always makes me nervous, and when I get nervous, I blab. I tell her all the stuff Charlie told me: the uniform you get, how everybody comes to watch and how you get a trophy after the tournament, plus the snacks and freezies.

“You should try it,” I say.

Aldeen grunts and shuffles off. I figure I’m lucky. Sometimes when Aldeen gets bored she belts you. But I’m wrong about luck. And about being bored. When I go out for first practice, Aldeen Hummel is standing by the soccer balls.

Text copyright © 2011, 2008 Ted Staunton

Illustration copyright © 2011, 2008 Bill Slavin

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Formac Publishing Company Limited acknowledges the support of the Cultural Affairs Section, Nova Scotia Department of Tourism, Culture and Heritage. We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada hrough the Canada Book Fund for our publishing activities.

We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts for our publishing program.

Cataloguing in Publication data is available from Library and Archives Canada

This digital edition first published in 2011 as 978-0-88780-173-0

Most recently published in 2008 as 978-0-88780-774-9

Formac Publishing Company Limited

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OJW Conversion -

Cover

Title Page

1 The Truth Is Not Fun

2 Snack Time

3 Grade Three Racoon

4 Alien Aldeens from Outer Space

5 Chicken with Carrots

6 Tough Noogies

7 Making and Breaking

8 The Money Mission

9 Truth to Tell

10 Lunch in the Lurch

What else is Morgan up to?

Copyright