Read an Excerpt
Chapter One
Meet Mouse
Maggie Marmelstein
My mother told me that I should never hate anybody, so I guess that Ionly dislike Maggie Marmelstein very very very very very much. Add acouple of "verys" to that, and you'll know how she feels about me.Maggie lives two doors away from me in an apartment house, and she is inmy class at school. Sometimes I get to thinking bow great it would havebeen if we bad been born in different centuries. Or we could at leasthave lived on different continents, let alone the same apartment house.She could have been someone like Lucrezia Borgia over in Italy and Icould have been someone like Daniel Boone in this country. We would havemissed each other completely. Actually I would settle for Maggie justmoving to the next block.
I suppose the main reason Maggie doesn't like me is because I oncecalled her a mouse in front of a few kids. It is certainly not my fault that she squeaks like a mouse. it is only my fault that I mentioned it. To her. In front of people.
It happened in the lunchroom at school a couple of weeks ago. I walked in with my best friend, Henry, and a salami sandwich. Henry and I looked around for a place to sit. The lunchroom is always crowded and noisy. Some of the kids cat their lunch there, some of the kids throw their lunch there, and some do a little of each. Since Henry and I are both lawabiding, we bad come only to eat.
There were some empty seats at a table with three kids from our class: Ellen, Noah, and Ronald the Rock Thrower. Ellen is a girl who never seems to take up as much space as she's entitled to, and she doesn't say much either. If thelunchroom were full of Ellens, everybody could hear everybody else chew. Noah is the boy version of Ellen, but it works out worse for Noah. Ellen is called shy, but Noah is called sissy. All the kids call Ronald the Rock Thrower Ronald the Rock Thrower. Like Billy the Kid or something. He always says much too much, and none of it is worth hearing.
Henry and I sat down. I had to sit beside Ronald, but I left a nice, roomy space between us. There was also a large-sized space between Ronald and Noah, who sat on Ronald's other side. In addition to his specialty, Ronald is an elbow pusher and occasional lunch snatcher.
I started to eat my salami sandwich. Enter Maggie Marmelstein who sat down beside Henry as I was enjoying my second bite. I was not happy to see her. Maggie has a miserable disposition and dark circles under her eyes which come from staying up nights watching The Late Show with her mother. I predict that the day her television set breaks down she will become a better person. She looked straight at me, as if Henry, who was between us, was transparent.
Maggie said, "Sandwiches should be seen and not smelled." She gave me her I-disapprove-of-salami-sandwiches look. Then she unwrapped her own sandwich.
"Whatcha got there?" asked Henry.
"This is an imported jam sandwich," said Maggie.
"Is the whole sandwich imported, or just the jam?" asked Henry.
"The jam is imported from England," said Maggie. "The bread comes from Hackensack, New Jersey."
"How do you know a thing like that?" asked Henry. "I don't know where my bread comes from."
"I read the bread wrapper," said Maggie.
"You read bread wrappers," I said. I started to laugh. "Are they interesting? I mean, is there a good plot, and how about the characters? Come on, tell us."
Maggie took a bite out of her Hackensack, New Jersey, bread. She was ignoring me.
That might have been the end of that if Noah hadn't spoken up. "I imagine that it could be very rewarding to read bread wrappers," he said. "For example, if you think of pieces of bread as the covers of a book, the ingredients on the wrapper actually tell you what is going on inside the covers."
I knew that Noah knew what he meant. But I didn't. What he said always came out too fancy, and he couldn't help it. Maybe that's why he didn't say much. But once in a while he would pipe up with something, as if he were practicing being brave and wanted to be prepared if a main bout came along. He had just knighted himself Maggie's Champion.
"Shut up, Noah," said Ronald the Rock Thrower.
"Ronald, you be quiet and stop picking on Noah," said Maggie who was now Noah's Champion. Maggie meant well, but now Noah had a girl protecting him. Noah's sissy title was not only intact, it was practically ablaze in neon lights.
A piece of celery from another table sailed through the air and landed on our table. Ronald threw it back.
"Can I have a bite of your salami sandwich?" Henry asked me.
"Sure," I said. "Hackensack, New Jersey, bread is funny looking anyway."
"I heard that," said Maggie. "But I'll ignore it."
"Thank you, wrapper reader," I said.
"I won't ignore that," said Maggie. "Calling me names. You're fresh."
"Like Hackensack, New Jersey, bread?" asked Henry. "Or like this?" He pinched Maggie on the arm.
It was just a quick little pinch, but Maggie squeaked, "Stop that, you."
"My friend is not a you," I said. "But you're a mouse. You squeak just like a mouse."
"Hey, everybody, meet Mouse Maggie Marmelstein," said Ronald.
"You," said Maggie to me, "are not a you. You are a rat."
If Maggie were a more original person she wouldn't have called me a rat after I called her a mouse. And if she were a more accurate person she wouldn't have called me a rat. If you could see me, you would realize at once that I bear no resemblance whatsoever to a rat.
Unfortunately Maggie didn't stop at calling me a rat. She then said, "You're a rat, Thaddeus Gideon Smith."
Thaddeus Gideon Smith the Fifth is my name but I keep it quiet. Sometimes in private Henry calls me Smith the Fifth, but everybody else calls me Thad. I was named after my father who was named after his father who was named after his father who was named after his father who did something important in the Civil War. Actually I like to say Thaddeus Gideon Smith to myself. My first ancestor who thought up the name probably went to plenty of bother to do it, and it shows. But when I grow up I'm changing my name to John Doe, which will be easy to write on my checks and my driver's license.
Henry and I left the table shortly after I was called a rat, Thaddeus Gideon Smith.
"Maggie's a pill," said Henry. "Calling her a
mouse is an insult to every living, breathing mouse."
"So she's a pill," I said. "So what? So I said she squeaked like a mouse. So what? So she called me a rat. I forgive her for calling me a rat. I forgive myself for saying she squeaks like a mouse. And I also forgive you and me for starting the fight."
Actually I wanted to make up with Maggie so she wouldn't go around calling me Thaddeus Gideon Smith.
Getting Something on Maggie Marmelstein. Copyright © by Marjorie Sharmat. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
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