Annie Pitts, Artichoke Read online

  Annie Pitts, Artichoke

  Copyright © 1992, 2001, 2009, 2012 by Diane deGroat

  All rights reserved.

  Published by StarWalk Kids Media.

  Originally published in 1992 by Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers.

  Except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and articles, no part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher.

  Contact: StarWalk Kids Media,

  15 Cutter Mill Road, Suite 242,

  Great Neck, NY 11021.

  www.StarWalkKids.com

  For more information about the author, visit her website at

  www.dianedegroat.com.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  deGroat, Diane.

  Annie Pitts, Artichoke / written and illustrated by Diane deGroat

  p. cm.

  Summary: When Annie and her third grade class put on a play about nutrition, it has more surprises than the teacher expected.

  ISBN 978-1-623341-80-0

  {1. Schools—Fiction. 2. Nutrition—Fiction. 3. Plays—Fiction.} I. Title

  PZ7.D3639 An 2001 {E}—dc21 00-10413

  CHAPTER ONE

  Miss G. and Me

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Trip to You-Know-Where

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lettuce Begin

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Story of Horace Tuttle

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Too Many Cooks

  CHAPTER SIX

  Play Time!

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Grand Finale

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Where’s the Bug Juice?

  CHAPTER ONE

  Blah, blah, something, something, blah, blah ...”

  The teacher went on blah-blahing about something-something, while I just stared out the window, watching a dog on the playground. He had stopped to sprinkle on the monkey bars. I would have to remember not to climb on that side of the monkey bars at recess. I would also have to remember to tell everyone else not to climb on that side.

  Everyone except Matthew, that is. I would tell him after he did.

  When the dog wandered off, I stared at my reflection in the glass. I tilted my head and practiced smiling. I practiced smiling every chance I got, because someday I was going to be a movie star and I would have to smile a lot for the camera.

  I would also have to cry a lot. I made a frown in the glass and tried to think of something sad. I thought about the time my hamster died. I was about to cry, really, but then I saw Matthew’s reflection behind mine. He was making silly faces. It’s so hard to be a serious actress when someone is making silly faces behind you.

  Matthew’s reflection suddenly disappeared, because something large came between us. It was Miss Goshengepfeffer. “Earth to Annie Pitts!” she said.

  I turned around and said, “Sorry, Miss G.”

  Miss Goshengepfeffer was nice enough to let us call her Miss G., but she was not nice enough to let us daydream in class. It was the beginning of the school year, and I was still in my summer mode. It was hard to pay attention.

  Miss G. returned to the front of the room. “As I was saying,” she said, looking my way, “the play will be for your parents and for the rest of the school, too. We’ll write it together, and everyone will have a part.”

  Play? Did I, Annie Pitts, future star, hear that magic word, play? My best friend, Sara, and I used to put on plays in her backyard. We charged kids a quarter to see them, which was really a bargain. I mean, an arcade game costs a quarter, and it can be over in less than a minute. Our plays went on for hours.

  Since Sara moved away this past summer, I hadn’t had a chance to do any serious acting, so I suddenly paid very close attention to what Miss G. was saying.

  “We can start working on the play at the end of our new science unit,” she said. “But first I’d like to tell you about the class trip that’s coming up.”

  I wanted to hear more about the play, but everyone else wanted to hear about the trip. Last year her third-graders went to a baseball game. I heard that Miss G. ate ten hot dogs! I believed it, because Miss G. is ... well, you know.

  Thomas raised his hand. “Are we going to a baseball game?”

  Miss G. said, “No, we’re not going to a baseball game, but we are going some-place interesting. And you’ve probably been there before.”

  “I went on a trip to Disney World this summer,” Thomas said.

  Disney World? I’d love to go to Disney World! Maybe I could try out for a part in a Disney movie if we went there. I was daydreaming again, thinking about which stage name I preferred, Tiffany or Brooke, while Miss G. was writing something on the board: SUPERMARKET.

  Supermarket? What has that got to do with Disney World, I wondered. And then I realized: we weren’t going to Disney World. No Fantasyland. No chance to be a movie star. We were going ... food shopping! That was not my idea of a class trip.

  I guess I wasn’t the only one who didn’t think so. Thomas asked, “Why are we taking a trip to the supermarket? I’ve been there plenty of times.”

  I found that hard to believe, because Thomas’s family had a housekeeper who did all the shopping for them. I couldn’t imagine Thomas, or even Thomas’s mother, in the supermarket trying to decide between the floral- or the pine-scented room spray.

  “The supermarket can be very interesting,” Miss G. said. “Our new science unit is about nutrition. We’re going to do a play about it, but first we’ll learn about making healthy choices in our diet. And all the different foods we’ll be discussing can be found right in our local supermarket.”

  Miss G. wrote NUTRITION on the board. I didn’t copy it on the paper in front of me when she asked us to. Instead, I wrote M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E.

  “Now, who can name some good foods?” Miss G. asked, chalk in hand.

  Marsha said, “Ooh, ooh,” and waved her arm. Obviously, Marsha-Miss-Pick-Me-Pick-Me wasn’t very upset about not going to Disney World. “Chocolate!” she said. “Chocolate is good.”

  “Chocolate is very good,” Miss G. said.

  “And so are doughnuts and cookies. But they’re not good for us. We need to eat foods that have things like ... protein.” She wrote the word on the board. “Meat, fish, chicken, and eggs are all sources of protein. Beans and nuts have it, too.”

  I looked over at Matthew, looking over at me, making nutty faces. If nuts had protein, then Matthew must have more protein than anyone else in the class.

  Miss G. drew a huge circle on the board. She drew a fork on one side and a knife and spoon on the other. Then, for some reason, she drew a guitar right in the middle of the circle.

  “Now we need some vegetables, a dairy product, and maybe a cereal or pasta. That will give us a balanced meal.” She looked at me and said, “Annie, what vegetable shall we put on our plate?”

  I was still staring at the guitar. “Plate?” I asked.

  “Here, next to the chicken,” she said. “I guess I’m not a very good artist.” She wrote the word CHICKEN on the guitar. I mean, on the chicken.

  “Well, Annie?” she continued. “What vegetables would you like?”

  “I don’t like vegetables,” I said very matter-of-factly. And that was true. I always left them on my plate. But I could probably learn to like them in Disney World.

  Miss G. was not giving up so easily. “Annie,” she said, “we can all learn to eat right even if there are certain foods we don’t like.”

  Before I could stop myself, I said, “Do YOU eat right, Miss G.? I mean, how come you’re so ... so ...”

  Some kids giggled. Marsha-Miss-I’m-So-Polite gave me a look tha
t said, “How could you?”

  But Miss G. wasn’t mad. She said, “You’re right, Annie. I don’t always eat properly, as you can see.” She patted her hip. “I just love sweets. Cake, ice cream, cookies, chocolate!” She sighed a little before going on. “But I’ve started a new diet this year, and this time I’m going to eat right. I’m going to set a good example for my students.”

  We all agreed that Miss G. should lose some weight. And we would help her. Matthew said that he would check her desk each morning to make sure that she wasn’t sneaking in doughnuts. Thomas suggested that she take karate lessons. Marsha suggested that I keep my mouth shut.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Before the class trip, Miss G. gave us a talk about proper behavior. I already knew how to act in a supermarket, but maybe some kids didn’t. I once saw a little boy throw a tantrum when his mother wouldn’t buy him candy. Maybe Miss G. was afraid one of us might do the same. Maybe she thought it would be me.

  As we headed out the door, Miss G. said, “Don’t forget your nutrition charts. You have to write examples of all the different food groups on it.” My chart had M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E written across the top. But that didn’t change the fact that this trip was going to be pretty B-O-R-I-N-G.

  When we lined up in front of the school, five cars were already waiting at the curb. Because my mother works, she couldn’t volunteer to drive. My grandma takes care of me during the day, and she always takes the bus if she goes anywhere. Otherwise, she’d probably have volunteered, because she’s a person who really likes to shop. She even has a sweatshirt that says: Shop Till You Drop.

  I was hoping to go in Miss G.’s car. I thought it would be cool sitting next to her in the front seat. I would use my most polite, grown-up voice as we talked. Maybe she’d tell me all about how she never ate vegetables when she was little, either—although it was hard to imagine Miss G. ever being little!

  Marsha’s mother was driving the first car, so Marsha got to go with that group. The line moved forward, and before I knew it, I was sitting next to Matthew in the backseat of his mother’s car.

  “Wait!” I said. “I’m supposed to go with Miss G.!”

  But Matthew’s mother was busy checking seat belts and locking doors. I was trapped. She pulled the car away from the curb and started down the road to you-know-where, and I was sitting next to you-know-who. It was going to be a you-know-what kind of day.

  Matthew was not happy about sitting next to me, either. I could guess that, because the first thing he said was, “Hey, Fish-Face! Don’t get any cooties on me!” Matthew has called me Fish-Face ever since we were in kindergarten. Grandma said it was because he liked me. I think it was because I called him a doody head.

  The five-minute drive felt like an hour. I had to make sure that my leg didn’t touch Matthew’s, and that took a lot of concentration.

  Finally, we reached Shopper’s Supreme, the neighborhood supermarket, which was about as exciting as a dead cat. Although I guess a dead cat could be an exciting thing if it was your pet and it died and you were really upset and you had a funeral for it.

  “Please stay in line, and watch for cars!” Miss G. shouted as we walked across the parking lot.

  My group followed Matthew’s mother into the store. We all met by a corner booth with a sign that said MANAGER on it. A bald man in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up waited until we were all quiet. He looked very familiar.

  “Good morning, boys and girls!” the man said loudly. “And welcome to Shopper’s Supreme—the only store you need for all your shopping needs.”

  Now I knew who he was. He was Hank, the Shopper’s Supreme man in the TV commercial. I, Annie Pitts, was standing in the same room with a famous person! I raised my hand.

  “Are you really Hank, the Shopper’s Supreme man on TV?” I asked.

  “I certainly am, young lady,” he answered. “And are you one of my loyal customers?”

  “Oh, yes,” I lied. “I do all my shopping in your store.” Maybe if I sounded as if I really meant it, Hank would want me to be in one of his commercials. I would rather be in a regular TV show, but being in a commercial would be great, too, as long as it wasn’t for underpants or something like that. That would be so embarrassing.

  “Now there’s a satisfied customer,” Hank said, pointing to me. “How would you like to be my helper?”

  Would I! He actually asked me! He didn’t ask Marsha-Miss-Teacher’s-Pet-Who-Gets-Picked-All-the-Time. He asked me, Annie Pitts. I smiled and said in my best actress-like voice, “It would be your pleasure to have me.”

  Hank laughed and asked me to come forward. I stood next to him and smiled out at the class. Through my smiley teeth I tried to say, so only Hank could hear, “Just so you know, I don’t do underwear commercials.”

  Hank gave me a funny look and handed me a huge poster to hold. On it was a diagram of the whole store. This was supposed to help us find all the different kinds of food.

  Unfortunately, I was holding the poster in front of my face, so I couldn’t see any of the diagram, but I did see Marsha taking lots of notes. She was probably trying to impress Hank so that she could be in one of his commercials, too. She could be so obvious sometimes.

  When he was finished, Hank wished us all good luck and reminded us to tell our parents that Shopper’s Supreme was the only store they needed for all their shopping needs. I was left holding the poster, while the rest of the class headed for the aisles.

  “Thank you, miss,” Hank said, taking the poster. “You’d better catch up with the others.” He gathered some important-looking papers and rushed past me. I guess he would talk to me later about my television career.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Miss G. had told us to stay with our groups, so I looked for Susan, Thomas, and Matthew. I found them in the fruits-and-vegetables aisle with Matthew’s mother. They were running around, writing stuff down as if it were fun or something. I worked on my chart, too. I wrote APPLES under the fruit column. This was just too exciting for words.

  Miss G. saw me. “There you are, Annie,” she said. “I told everyone that I’m giving a point for each correct answer. We’re trying to see who can get the most points.”

  Miss G. made it sound like a contest. Maybe the person with the most points would get a prize or something. Maybe it was the starring role in the school play! If that was it, I had some catching up to do.

  Miss G. walked down the aisle saying, “Try to be creative. I’d like to see some unusual choices. The most interesting food names will get two points.”

  I checked my chart. Apples were definitely not a two-pointer. I looked around for something more interesting. I found persimmons and guavas.

  Then I rushed across the aisle to the vegetables. As I said before, they were not my favorite kind of food, but maybe there were some unusual veggies worth two points. I had to weave my way around a lot of shopping carts to get there.

  The store was getting very crowded, and I got trapped against a display bin, completely surrounded by shopping carts. Behind me was a huge pile of lettuce. I never thought of any vegetable as being very interesting, but lettuce had to be the dullest of them all. That is, until someone takes a head from the bottom of the pile and they all start to roll. Which is exactly what Matthew did. I suddenly found myself being attacked by hundreds of heads of iceberg lettuce!

  Matthew’s mother ran to help me up and apologized to the produce man, who did what he could to stop the rest of the lettuce from rolling. I would have offered to help, but I had more important work to do. I needed more points. I rushed through the bins, adding to my list: jicama, arugula, fennel, rutabaga, and taro—all worth at least three points each!

  As my group made its way to the dairy aisle, I kept my eyes open for Hank, in case he wanted to talk to me about any ideas I had for our commercial. I didn’t see him anywhere, so I worked on my chart.

  The dairy aisle was easy. I found weird stuff like goat cheese and soybean milk. As I waited for everyone
else to finish, I practiced modeling with a container of strawberry yogurt. I held it up and smiled, pretending there was a camera in front of me. I picked up another yogurt—blueberry—and held it up also. I tried to see how long I could stand perfectly still and smile at the same time.

  I was doing a really professional job, I thought, until I noticed that people were looking at me. That was okay. I would have to get used to that if I was going to be in commercials. Then I saw that they really were looking at Matthew, who was standing behind me, making faces.

  I turned and my elbow hit his hand. I dropped a container of yogurt, and it splashed all over the floor and onto my shoes. There is nothing more disgusting than having blueberry yogurt oozing all over your white sneakers.

  Fortunately, Hank wasn’t around to see the mess I had made.

  Unfortunately, Miss G. was. She mumbled something about aspirin, and handed me some tissues so that I could clean myself up. I hoped she would still let me be in the play after this. I would have to keep away from Matthew from now on, so I wouldn’t get into any more trouble!

  Just then, an announcement came over the loudspeaker: “Cleanup in the dairy aisle.” It was Hank’s voice.

  As I raced away from the dairy aisle toward the meat department, I wondered if Hank actually saw me drop the yogurt, or if one of his workers reported that there was just a general mess on the floor, without mentioning the eight-year-old redhead who made it.

  Suddenly, I found myself face-to-face with fish. Dozens of fish lying on a bed of ice. Actually, the fish were very interesting. They were shiny and scaly and had eyes that followed you when you walked past. But unfortunately Matthew couldn’t resist saying, “Hey, Fish-Face! See any relatives here?”

  And then it happened. Some strange person inside of me made me pick up one of the dead fish by the tail. That person also happened to fling the flounder straight at Matthew and smack him in the face.