Boss of Lunch (3 page)

“Yum! That tasted just like the cookies that Mrs. Gutzman used to bring to afternoon kindergarten,” I said.

I smiled at the thought of that woman.

“Gladys Gutzman was our snack lady last year,” I explained to Herb. “She used to bring us cookies and milk every week.”

I made my voice kind of secret.

“Only guess what, Herbert. Sometimes Mrs. Gutzman gave me
two
cookies instead of one,” I said. “’Cause I was her favorite person in Room Nine, I think.”

José heard what I said. “Hey! That must mean that I was her favorite in Room
Eight
!” he said. “Because sometimes Mrs. Gutzman gave
me
an extra one, too.”

After that, me and José did a high five.

’Cause
both
of us were favorites, apparently!

“That woman was a gem, I tell you,” I said.

“What do you mean she
was
a gem, Junie B.?” said José. “She still
is
a gem. Mrs. Gutzman still works here, you know.”

“What?” I said very surprised.

“Sure, she does,” said Herb. “I met Mrs. Gutzman this year already. She works right there in the kitchen.”

I couldn't believe my ears.

“Really?” I said. “Really? Really? Really? Because if Mrs. Gutzman still works at our school, how come she hasn't brought us milk and cookies this year?”

Herb shrugged. “I don't know,” he said. “But she still works here, all right. In fact, we saw her just now when we were getting our hoagies.”

I put my hand over my mouth. ’Cause
that news was too good to be true!

José laughed. “If you don't believe us, go see for yourself,” he said.

“I
will
, José! I
will
go see for myself!” I said real joyful.

Then I jumped right out of my seat.

And I zoomed into the kitchen.

And I hollered and hollered for Mrs. Gutzman!

“Mrs. Gutzman! Mrs. Gladys Gutzman! Where are you?” I hollered. “It's me! It's me! It's Junie B. Jones!”

I looked all around me. There was a long counter with children pushing trays.

“Did anyone see Mrs. Gutzman?” I asked the children. “Does anyone know her? My friends said she is right here in this kitchen. But I don't even see her.”

I hollered her name even louder.

“MRS. GUTZMAN! MRS. GLADYS GUTZMAN!”

Then, all of a sudden, a lady came hurrying around the corner.

And good news!!!

It was
her
!

It was Mrs. Gladys Gutzman!

I ran and hugged her very tight.

“Mrs. Gutzman! Mrs. Gutzman! I am so glad to see you!” I said.

Mrs. Gutzman hugged me back.

“Junie B. Jones! I'm glad to see you, too!” she said.

I smiled up at her.

She was wearing her same big white apron from last year.

“Whoa! Just look at you, Mrs. Gutzman!” I said. “You didn't change a bit!”

I patted her apron.

“You didn't even change your clothes, apparently,” I said.

Mrs. Gutzman laughed.

She was wearing plastic mitts on her hands. Plus also, she was wearing a hair net.

“Hey, I remember those things from last year!” I said. “You told me that you wear plastic mitts and a hair net whenever you touch food, remember? You said that was called good hygiene. ’Cause mitts and a hair net protect our food from dirty germs and hairs.”

Mrs. Gutzman made a face.

“Are you sure that's the way I put it?” she asked.

I skipped all around her in a circle.

“Hey, Mrs. Gutzman! Now that you found me, you can start bringing cookies to my room again!”

I held up one finger. “I am in Room One
this year,” I said. “Room One comes earlier in the alphabet than Room Nine. And so now that you know where I am, when can you bring the cookies, Gladys?”

Mrs. Gutzman did a chuckle.

Then she leaned down next to me.

And she patted my arm.

And she said don't call her Gladys.

After that, Mrs. Gutzman explained all about snacks. She said that first graders don't get snacks like kindergarten kids do. On account of first graders get cookies with their school lunches.

I did a frown at that news.

“Yeah, only what about the children who
bring
their lunches, Mrs. Gutzman? Where's our cookies? Huh? ’Cause today everybody got a cookie except for me and Sheldon.”

Mrs. Gutzman didn't answer my question. Instead, she raised her head and looked behind me.

That's when I heard my teacher's voice.

“Junie B. Jones,”
he said kind of loudish. “Exactly what do you think you're doing?”

I spun around.

Mr. Scary's eyes looked annoyed at me.

“Why did you get up from the table, Junie B.?” he asked. “Hmm? What's the story here?”

Everyone was staring.

I did a big gulp. Then I squeezed my eyes closed real tight. And I tried to think of the story here.

“Well, um … let's see,” I said. “First, I was eating my
brought
lunch … and everyone else was eating their
bought
lunch. And so that's how come I was the first one finished. And then I was just sitting there. And I spotted Herb's sugar cookie. And I really, really wanted that thing. And good news … Herb
shared
! And so then that delicious cookie reminded me about Mrs. Gutzman. And what do you know? Herb and José said she was right here in this
exact kitchen. So I jumped up from the table. And I ran in to say hello,” I said.

After that, I looked up at Mrs. Gutzman kind of nervous. And I waved my fingers.

“Hello,” I said real soft.

“Hello,” she said back.

Mr. Scary shook his head. “No. I'm sorry, Junie B. I know Mrs. Gutzman has enjoyed seeing you. But you can't just get up from the table and run wherever you please during lunch,” he said.

Mrs. Gutzman nodded. “Mr. Scary is right, Junie B.,” she said. “I am very happy to see you. But you do have to learn to follow school rules.”

I did a sigh.

“Yeah, only I really, really wanted to find you, Mrs. Gutzman,” I said. “’Cause I missed you very much.”

Mrs. Gutzman tapped on her chin.

“Hmm,” she said. “Maybe I have an idea. Maybe—if you promise to follow the rules—you can come back tomorrow and help me in the kitchen. Would you like that, do you think?”

My eyes got big and wide at her. “Are you kidding, Mrs. Gutzman?” I said. “Is this some kind of a joke?”

She smiled again.

“Nope,” she said. “It's no joke. We let children help us in the kitchen quite often. If it's okay with your teacher, I'll give you a permission slip to take home to your parents.”

I pulled on Mr. Scary's arm. “Say it's okay! Okay? Please! Please! Please!” I begged.

Mr. Scary didn't answer right away.

Instead, he ran his fingers through his hair. And he thought and thought.

Then finally, he
said
it.

Mr. Scary said
it's okay
!

I clapped and danced and twirled.

“I can
do
it, Mrs. Gutzman!” I said. “I can come and help you in the kitchen!”

“Excellent!” said Mrs. Gutzman.

Then she reached behind the counter. And she handed me a permission slip.

And that is not all!

Because she reached back there one more time. And she pulled out a pair of brand-new plastic mitts!

“Here,” she said. “These are for you. You can wear them around your house tonight and get used to them.”

I did a gasp at those wonderful things.

“Thank you, Mrs. Gutzman! Thank
you!” I said. “I've always wanted some of these thingamajigs!”

After that, I put them on my hands very thrilled. And I waved goodbye to Mrs. Gutzman.

“See you!” I said. “See you tomorrow!”

Then I walked back to my lunch table with Mr. Scary.

And I followed the rules for the rest of the day.

After school, I ran home from my bus stop.

It was Mother's day off from work.

She was in the backyard playing with my baby brother named Ollie.

Ollie is ten months old. He cannot skip or play tag or color.

So far, I am not that satisfied with him.

I ran out the back door.

“Mother! Mother! I'm going to be a helper! I'm going to be a helper!” I shouted real cheery.

I quick handed her my permission slip.

“Read this paper! Hurry! It's from Mrs. Gutzman!” I said. “You remember Mrs. Gutzman, right? Mrs. Gutzman used to be my cookie lady last year. But this year she's branched out, apparently. ’Cause now she's the boss of the whole kitchen operation, I think.”

Mother read the permission slip.

I bounced up and down very excited.

“See, Mother? See? Mrs. Gutzman wants me to be her helper in the cafeteria tomorrow. And so all you have to do is sign that paper. And I will be all set.”

I started back to the house. “I'll go get you a pen!”

Mother hollered, “Hold on” to me.

“This really does sound like fun, Junie B.,” she said. “But let's talk it over at dinner, okay? At dinner you can tell Daddy and me all about it.”

I did a big breath at her.

“But I don't want to talk it over at dinner, Mother,” I said. “I want you to sign that paper right exactly
now.
Please, please? Just sign it, okay?”