Amber Brown Sees Red
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
WHY CAN’T THINGS STAY THE SAME FOR A WHILE?
The gorilla says nothing, but then he never talks. He just listens. At least that’s one thing that stays the same.
I continue. “In the past two years, everything has changed. My parents separated. My father moved to Paris. My best friend, Justin, moved to Alabama. My parents divorced. My mom started dating Max. Then he asked her to marry him, and for us to become a family. Now they’re engaged. My favorite teacher, Mr. Cohen, stayed in the third grade, and I had to go into fourth grade. And now my feet are getting bigger. My legs are getting taller. Nothing fits the same way anymore.
“Say something,” I tell the gorilla.
The hairy ape just sits there.
PUFFIN BOOKS
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First published in the United States of America by G. P. Putnam’s Sons,
a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 1997
Published by Puffin Books, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2009
Text copyright © Paula Danziger, 1997
Illustrations copyright © Tony Ross, 1997
All rights reserved
THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS HAS CATALOGED THE G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS EDITION AS FOLLOWS:
Danziger, Paula, dates.
Amber Brown sees red /
by Paula Danziger; illustrated by Tony Ross.
p. cm.
Summary: The year that she is in fourth grade is a difficult one for Amber, as she tries to deal with
escalating telephone fights between her divorced parents and her father’s impending return to take
joint custody of her.
eISBN : 978-1-101-07580-7
[1. Divorce—Fiction. 2. Schools—Fiction.] 1. Ross,Tony, ill. II. Title.
PZ7.1.D2394Ao 1997 [Fic]—dc20 96-41227 CIP AC
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume
any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
http://us.penguingroup.com
To Bruce Coville
Chapter One
I, Amber Brown, am going through a growth spurt.
Either that or the mirror’s getting smaller.
I keep looking at myself from different angles.
Either my legs are getting longer or my pants are getting shorter.
Either my eyesight is getting bad or my bangs are covering my eyes.
I can practically feel myself getting taller ...
My new shoes that I got only two months ago at the beginning of fourth grade are too small.
I’m not sure that I’m ready for this growth spurt.
Sitting down on my bed, I pick up my favorite stuffed toy, the one that my dad won for me at the town fair.
“Gorilla,” I say, “it’s not that I’m complaining .... it’s not that I want to stay the same size forever .... it’s just that I would like something in my life to stay the same for a while.”
The gorilla says nothing, but then he never talks. He just listens. At least that’s one thing that stays the same.
I continue. “In the past two years, everything has changed. My parents separated. My father moved to Paris. My best friend, Justin, moved to Alabama. My parents divorced. My mom started dating Max. Then he asked her to marry him, and for us to become a family. Now they’re engaged. My favorite teacher, Mr. Cohen, stayed in the third grade, and I had to go into fourth grade. And now my feet are getting bigger. My legs are getting taller. Nothing fits the same way anymore.
“Say something,” I tell the gorilla.
The hairy ape just sits there.
Looking around my room, I think about how my room is the only thing that hasn’t changed. Doofy dancing-animal wallpaper, boring curtains and bedspread.
Even though the gorilla doesn’t tell me, I know that I sound like such a complainer.
Things could be worse.
I know that.
I look at my mirror again and I see a spot on the right side of my face.
Things ARE getting worse.
I’m getting some weird disease.
I’ve already had chicken pox.
This must be vulture pox.
I touch the spot and it smears.
It’s not vulture pox. (Which I’m not actually sure is a real disease.)
It’s a mark from the pen that I used when I wrote a letter to my dad this morning.
Lately, he’s been writing long letters about how, even though he loves Paris, he’s home-sick for me and for the United States.
“Amber Marie Brown. Get down here right now or you’re going to be late for school,” my mom calls up the steps.
Grabbing my knapsack, I rush downstairs.
It’s Friday.
It’s school.
It’s math test day and I forgot to study.
Maybe I’ll get lucky and something will happen so that the test gets canceled.
Chapter Two
“Bulletin. Bulletin. Bulletin.” Brandi runs up to me right after my mom drops me off at school.
“What is it this time?” I grin at her. “Did the janitor change another lightbulb? Did Mr. Cohen call Ms. Levine by her first name again? Has someone glued rhinestones on the school basketballs?”
“No.” She stamps her foot. “That all happened last week ... and I’ve already reported those things, so they’re no longer bulletins.”
“So what is it this time?” I continue to grin at my friend, who wants to be a television reporter when she grows up and believes in being prepared for the future.
“Bulletin. Bulletin. Bulletin.” She’s jumping up and down. “The school stinks.”
“I thought you liked school. What’s happened to make you think it stinks all of a sudden?”
She holds her nose and giggles. “The school stinks. It REALLY stinks.... Big time! Really big time. I’m talking SKUNK time. I’m talking SKUNK FAMILY time.”
I start to laugh. “Skunks?!”
She nods. “Take a deep breath.”
I can’t. “I have a cold.”
She tries to look serious. “It’s a good thing that I can give you this bulletin then.... We may be sent home ...
the school really stinks.... So, as Mr. Cohen said about ten minutes ago, nose news is good news.”
Now I start to laugh a lot. “Some schools have snow days.... We may have a Skunk Day.”
Jimmy Russell and Bobby Clifford come running over to us.
They get down on their hands and knees, lift one leg, and pretend to be skunks.
I, Amber Brown, have always thought that they were little stinkers.
All of a sudden, there is the sound of whistles blowing.
The vice principal and the guidance counselor have gym whistles in their mouths.
Mr. Robinson, the principal, is using a megaphone. “Children. Go stand with your teachers.”
I look for Mrs. Holt.
She’s standing by the swings.
Brandi and I go over to her, moving closer to the school.
I still don’t smell anything.
Mr. Robinson, the principal, is holding a megaphone.
Everyone is quiet as soon as he starts speaking.
That’s because we all know that we’ll get a very long detention if we’re not quiet.
The announcement is made.
We have to go into the school and wait until arrangements are made to send us all home.
...... Until then we are to remain quiet, not cause any problems.
I see Mr. Cohen lean over to Ms. Levine and say, “That’s using common scents.”
Even though I like Mrs. Holt, my fourth grade teacher, I really miss having Mr. Cohen as my teacher. He’s the best teacher in the whole world.
However, I, Amber Brown, am getting very curious about Mr. Cohen and his interest in the new kindergarten teacher. I was sort of hoping that he’d wait until I graduated from college to get interested in someone .... like me. Oh well, he’ll probably be much too old for me by then anyway ...... Probably ancient .... at least forty.
Oh well ... Ms. Levine seems really nice.
“Line up by classes” is the announcement.
We do.
The next announcement is “Return to your classes.”
We do.
Jimmy Russell and Bobby Clifford continue pretending to be skunks.
They get detention.
I personally think that Jimmy and Bobby are so used to having detention that they think it’s a regular school subject ..... math, science, detention, English.
It’s only October and already they have enough detentions to keep them after school until next February. By the end of this school year, I bet they’ll have enough detentions to keep them after school until they graduate from high school.
Walking in, I can smell the skunks, even with my very bad cold.
It’s gross, really gross ... really, really, really gross.
Ms. Levine’s kindergarteners are walking in front of us.
One of the little girls starts to cry, “I’m scared. I’m scared. I don’t want to come in here. What if they try to get us? What if they bite us and give us rabies? What if they stink?”
Some of the other kindergarteners start to cry.
One of them wets his pants.
There’s a little puddle around his shoe.
Something tells me that this is going to be a school day that I’m never going to forget.
Chapter Three
Skunkorama.
Serious Skunkorama.
I, Amber Brown, don’t think that there is a family of skunks.
I think that there is a skunk convention.
The good news is that I can smell again.
The bad news is that what I can smell is skunk.
Yuk. Yag. Double Yuk. Double Yag.
Mrs. Holt is covering her nose with her hand. “Class. Please take out your books for free reading time.”
Saved. I’m saved .... no math test!
Hannah Burton raises her hand.“I thought we were going to have a math test. I studied.”
The only smell worse than skunk is Hannah Burton.
Alicia Sanchez raises her hand.
“Yes.” Mrs. Holt is still covering her nose.
“I don’t feel well. This smell is ...” Alicia barfs on her desk.
All of a sudden, I can feel my breakfast, Cheerios, milk, and bananas, working its way back up from my stomach.
Somehow I get my brain to push it back down again.
“Ewwwww.” Hannah Burton makes a disgusted and disgusting face.
Personally, I think that Hannah Burton’s face is normally disgusting.
Mrs. Holt hands Alicia some tissues. “You better go to the nurse. Naomi, go with her and then stop at the front office and ask them to send the janitor.”
Barforama ... Skunkorama .... This class is turning into Stinkorama.
Mrs. Holt drops some tissues over Alicia’s barf so that we won’t have to look at it.
I think I hear her mumble, “I should have called in sick today.”
An announcement comes over the loudspeaker. “This is your principal speaking.”
Mr. Robinson sounds like an airplane pilot.
“I just want to keep everyone informed of the situation.... Since this is Friday and we will have all weekend to try to eradicate the problem and get rid of the smell ... we have decided to call off school for the day.”
Our class starts to cheer, to whistle, to stomp their feet.
Even Mrs. Holt is applauding.
I can hear other classes making noise.
“Quiet!” Mr. Robinson screams into his microphone. “Quiet! Quiet! Quiet! Or we’ll cancel plans to close the school.”
It quickly quiets down and he continues.
“You will not be dismissed for a long time, though ... so teachers will continue with classes ... except for gym classes, which will be canceled ... and, teachers, unless there is an absolute emergency, please send no more students to the nurse. Her room is filled ... and no more janitor requests unless there is an emergency ... he is very busy. Now to explain the procedure: We must personally contact each parent, guardian, or backup person on your records to let them know that you are to be picked up if possible or bused home, if someone is there to take charge. We also have to locate the bus drivers.”
“We’re going to be here all day.” Jimmy Russell puts his head down on his desk.
“I can take care of myself,” Vinnie Simmons says.
Yeah, right, I think.Vinnie is the kid who, in kindergarten, wanted to eat his chicken pox.
Mr. Robinson continues. “Since there are only two regular phones in the front office, we will also be using the fax machine phone ... and several teachers will be using their car phones and portable phones. It will take a while to reach all parents and guardians or backup people.”
“ ‘Backup people’ sounds like singers who sing behind the stars,” Roger Hart says.
“He means the name of the person who is to be contacted if your parents or guardians cannot be reached,” Mrs. Holt explains.
“Maybe they also sing backup in a band,” Bobby Clifford says.
I wonder whose name my mom put on my records as backup. It used to be my friend Justin’s mother, but they’ve moved to Alabama.
I wonder what’s going to happen to me.
This morning, my mom said that she was going to be at an important all-day seminar. My dad is so far away. My Aunt Pam is in California. I don’t think that they will call them ... and anyway, what are they going to be able to do?
I write a note to Brandi.
Can el go to your house today? My mom’s at a business meeting
She looks at the note and makes a face.
Writing a note, she passes it to me.
el was just going to ask you if el could go to your house my mom said she had a meeting wasn’t listening .... and my clads away on business. What are we going to do? Do you think we’ll have to spend all day here with the skunks??????????
After I read it, I look at Brandi and we cross our eyes at each other.
Mr. Robinson says, “Now, teachers, classes, proceed with your
classwork until further notice.”
“Take out your books,” Mrs. Holt says.
“What about the math test?” Hannah calls out.
“Shut up,” the rest of the class tells her.
“Mrs. Holt. Tell them that they can’t tell me to shut up,” Hannah whines.
For a minute, it seems like Mrs. Holt is going to tell Hannah to shut up ... but instead she just sighs and says, “Hannah, I’m the teacher in this room. I’ll make the decisions. This is not a good time to test you. Now take out your books.”
Tiffani Shroeder raises her hand. “Mrs. Holt, I’m worried.”
“About what?” Mrs. Holt asks.
Tiffani, the vegetarian who belongs to animal rights groups, says, “Mr. Robinson says that they’re going to eradicate the problem over the weekend. Does that mean that they are going to kill the skunks? That’s not right.”
Mrs. Holt sighs. “I don’t know any more than you do. Later you can ask Mr. Robinson about that. Take out your books.”
Tiffani may be concerned about the skunks, but right now I’m worried about me.
I take out my book and wait to find out what’s going to happen next.
Chapter Four
I, Amber Brown, wish that I hadn’t drunk soooo much orange juice this morning.
I really wish I hadn’t because I, Amber Brown, have to go.
It’s a problem because we are no longer in our classrooms. We are sitting in buses in the school parking lot, and school buses don’t have bathrooms on them.
There are kids on the bus from all grades, kindergarten through sixth.
I don’t want to have to get up and tell one of the teachers, in front of everyone, that I have to go to the bathroom.
If I do, I’ll die, just die, from embarrassment.
If I don’t die, one of the teachers will have to escort me back into Skunk School and then when I get back on the bus, the sixth graders will yell out, “Hope everything came out all right.”
It’s all the skunks’ fault.
The skunks have won.