Junie B. Jones Has a Peep in Her Pocket (4 page)

“Okay, everyone,” said Farmer Flores. “This is the last stop on the tour today.”

He pointed. “Who can tell me what that little building is right there?”

Lucille jumped up and down real happy.

“The gift shop! The gift shop! I’ve been wondering where that was!” she said real delighted.

Farmer Flores did a chuckle. “Well, that’s a good guess. But most farms don’t have gift shops.”

He looked at the class. “I’ll give you a hint,” he said. “My wife and I get eggs for our breakfast every morning from that little house there.”

Just then, a boy named Roger jumped up and down and all around.

“I KNOW, I KNOW!” he shouted. “IT’S A HENHOUSE!”

Farmer Flores smiled. “Right!” he said. “It’s a house where hens lay their eggs.”

Farmer Flores opened the gate.

I tugged on his shirt. He bended down next to me.

“Is there a rooster in there, too?” I asked kind of scared.

“Just one,” he said. “But there’s lots of chickens. Want to go in and say hello?”

I shook my head real fast. Then I runned away from the gate speedy quick.

Paulie Allen Puffer and Jim laughed and pointed.

“Look at Junie B. Jones!” they hollered. “Junie B. Jones is afraid of roosters!”

Farmer Flores made an angry face at those two.

“Hey, hey, hey!” he said. “I’m surprised at you boys. There’s nothing wrong with someone being cautious about roosters.”

Just then, some of the other children looked kind of scared, too.

“Why?” asked Lucille. “Is the rooster going to peck us?”

Farmer Flores shook his head. “No,” he said. “That old rooster in there is a pretty calm fella. But that doesn’t mean Junie B. should be laughed at.”

He smiled a little bit.

“Why, I’ve been around farm animals all my life,” he said. “But every once in a while, I still come across an animal that I don’t get along with.”

Farmer laughed. “In fact, we used to have a goat who nipped at me every time I got near him. And for years, I made my wife go in his pen and feed him.”

After that, Farmer Flores winked at me. And Mrs. said I could wait outside the gate.

My shoulders relaxed very much.

I sat down on the grass outside the fence.

Only wait till you hear this. Pretty soon, Farmer leaned over the fence where I was sitting. And he was holding a baby yellow chick!

I giggled and giggled at that cute little thing.

“A chick! A baby chick! Can I hold it, Farmer? Please, please, please?” I asked.

Farmer Flores put the baby chick in my hands.

It was fluffery, and softie, and light as feathers.

“Oooooh, I love it, Farmer! I love this baby chick!”

After that, I put the chick in the grass. And on my lap. And in my straw hat. Plus also, I put it in my big, wide pocket.

I peeked at it in there.

“I wish I could take you home with me,” I said. “I wish I could take you home to my house. And then you could live with me and my dog Tickle forever and ever. Would you like that? Huh? Would you?”

The baby chick did a peep.

“Hey! You said yes!” I said.

I turned around. “Did you hear that, Farmer? The baby chick said it would like to come home with me!”

Farmer shook his head.

“Oh, I don’t know, Junie B.,” he said. “I’m not sure you’d really like having Spike grow up at your house.”

I did a frown at that man.

“Spike? Who’s Spike?” I asked.

Farmer pointed at the baby chick.

“Spike, the chick,” he said. “We named that little guy Spike.”

I peeked at the chick again.

“Yeah, only Spike is not actually a good name for a fluffery baby chick,” I said.

“I know, Junie B.,” he said. “But Spike isn’t going to be a little chick forever, you know.”

“I know,” I said back. “’Cause someday Spike will be a big
giant
chick. Right, Farmer? Right? Right?”

Farmer Flores shook his head again.

“Well, not
exactly
,” he said.

I looked at him real curious.

“Well, if Spike won’t be a big chick, what’s Spike going to be?” I asked.

Farmer Flores took Spike back from me.

He held him in his hands. And patted his little softie head.

“Someday, Junie B.,” he said, “Spike will be a
rooster.
”

I had confusion in my head.

’Cause first I hated roosters.

Only then I liked Spike.

Only Spike is going to be a rooster.

And so now what am I supposed to do?

I didn’t talk much after that. ’Cause confusion takes a lot of thinking, that’s why.

Plus also, I might need counseling, possibly.

Finally, the children finished seeing the
chickens. And they came out through the gate.

Then Farmer Flores held my hand one more time. And he took us to a field with wild flowers in it.

He said we could pick wild flowers for our mothers! ’Cause that would be like a gift from the gift shop, he said.

After all of us had our flowers, Mrs. took our picture with that nice man.

And here is the bestest part of all!

Farmer Flores took off his hat!

AND HIS HEAD WAS NOT A NUB!

I danced all around that guy very thrilled.

“Farmer Flores! Farmer Flores! Your head is not a nub! Your head is not a nub!”

He wrinkled up his eyebrows. “Uh… thank you,” he said kind of quiet.

“You’re welcome, Farmer!” I said back. “’Cause guess what? Now I don’t have to be afraid of roosters anymore!”

I jumped up and down. “Now maybe I can be afraid of goats! Just like you!” I shouted.

After that, Farmer Flores looked at me a real long time.

Then he rolled his eyes way up to the sky.

I looked up there, too.

But I didn’t see anything.