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    Isabelle the Itch
    Isabelle the Itch
    Isabelle the Itch
    Ebook111 pages1 hour

    Isabelle the Itch

    By Constance C. Greene

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Meet Isabelle, the original itch

    Isabelle is an itch. She can’t sit still and is always jumping from one thing to another. Being an itch means that she plans, jokes, plots, and schemes her way through life. Isabelle fights her best friend, Herbie, every day after school, and she’s probably the fastest girl in her class, especially now that she has her new Adidas sneakers. Isabelle’s dad says she could climb a mountain if she could just focus on one thing at a time. But why do one thing when you could do ten?

    When her older brother needs a substitute for his morning paper route, Isabelle has a chance to prove to everyone, especially herself, that she can channel her energy into something useful.

    In this, the first in Constance C. Greene’s rollicking Isabelle series, readers will discover that a little determination can make all the difference.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOpen Road Media
    Release dateFeb 24, 2015
    ISBN9781504004374
    Isabelle the Itch
    Author

    Constance C. Greene

    Constance C. Greene was the author of over twenty highly successful children’s and young adult novels, including the ALA Notable Book A Girl Called Al, Al(exandra) the Great, Getting Nowhere, and Beat the Turtle Drum, which is an ALA Notable Book, an IRA-CBC Children’s Choice, and the basis for the Emmy Award–winning after-school special Very Good Friends.

    Read more from Constance C. Greene

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      Book preview

      Isabelle the Itch - Constance C. Greene

      1

      Let’s fight at my house today, Isabelle said to Herbie.

      O.K., Herbie agreed, but no fair using feet.

      Isabelle and Herbie fought every day after school. Sometimes at her house, sometimes at his. They were pretty evenly matched.

      Except for Isabelle’s feet. She was skinny but she had big feet. She was proud of her feet. She was saving up for Adidas. They were the best track shoes in the world. With those Adidas on, she’d finally come in first in the fifty-yard dash at field day.

      Isabelle knelt down on the sidewalk and opened her lunch box. I knew it, she said glumly, inspecting her sandwich, sardine and chopped egg again.

      Yuck, Herbie said. Your mother sure went overboard today.

      They inched their way toward school.

      I forgot. Isabelle clapped her hand to her forehead. I can’t fight today. My mother’s taking me to the doctor’s for a checkup. She wants to ask him what makes me so itchy. She says she might have a nervous breakdown if I don’t stop being such an itch.

      Maybe he can give you a shot. They give shots for everything these days, Herbie said, adding another stick of gum to the already considerable wad in his mouth. When it reached the proper size and color, he planned to take it out and stick it on himself, pretending it was a giant boil. Sometimes he stuck it on his neck or the back of his hand or even his forehead.

      The boil fooled people. Especially from a distance. Herbie had written to a lot of companies, offering them first chance at his phony boil idea.

      So far, he’d had no answers. Once the idea caught on, though, Herbie figured he’d make a mint.

      My mother says she’s glad you’re not her child, Herbie said, with his cheeks bulging, like a squirrel bringing home nuts.

      And I’m glad she’s not my mother, Isabelle said, frowning. She worries too much. My mother doesn’t worry as much as yours does. She stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled the way her brother Philip had taught her.

      A little old lady walking her toy poodle gave a tiny scream and put her hands over her ears to shut out the piercing sound. Her dog yipped and piddled on the sidewalk.

      Isabelle and Herbie watched.

      That’s the trouble with them little dogs, they’re always going to the bathroom, Herbie observed. He knew perfectly well he should say those little dogs but he liked to use bad grammar. It made him feel tougher and also drove his mother up the wall.

      If the doctor don’t give you a shot, what’ll your mother do? he asked.

      Isabelle shrugged. She’ll have to sweat it out, I guess. She walked with one foot in the gutter, the other on the curb, a wounded veteran of foreign wars.

      Your mother and my mother and Mary Eliza Shook and Chauncey Lapidus and everyone you know. Herbie’s voice was muffled by the gum.

      Hey, Mary Eliza Shook is a schnook, Isabelle said, as if she’d just made it up. That’s not bad. Mary Eliza Shook is a schnook.

      Herbie started jumping up and down.

      I said that last week and you know it, he hollered. You heard me say that last week. I said it first.

      Take it easy, Herb. You might choke. Don’t get so excited, Isabelle said.

      One of the best things about Herbie was that he did get so excited.

      O.K. Herbie took his gum out and stuffed it in his pocket. School was in sight and if there was one thing Mrs. Esposito couldn’t stand, it was chewing gum in class.

      "But I did say it last week," Herbie said firmly.

      Chauncey Lapidus came running up behind them like a locomotive. A fat locomotive.

      Izzy, Izzy, open the doors, in your flowered underdrawers! he yelled.

      You have green teeth! Isabelle shouted.

      Chauncey didn’t stop.

      I hate him almost more than Mary Eliza Shook, Isabelle said.

      But for different reasons.

      2

      Mary Eliza Shook sneaked up behind Isabelle at lunch period. Hello, dear, how are you, dear? she whispered. Quick as a wink, she got her arm through Isabelle’s. The worst thing about Mary Eliza was the way she always wanted to link arms with people. She walked arm in arm down the hall, going to the lavatory, and even in gym. That was the worst—walking arm in arm in a stupid gym suit.

      It made Isabelle sick to her stomach, the way Mary Eliza did that.

      "Have you met the new girl yet? I understand her father’s very rich. He’s got three cars," Mary Eliza hissed from behind her hand.

      So? So? Isabelle didn’t know about any new girl.

      What’re you going to give Sally for a birthday present? Mary Eliza held on as Isabelle struggled silently.

      Sally who? Isabelle stopped squirming. She’d wait until Mary Eliza’s guard was down, then she’d take off. If only she had those Adidas on right now!

      Sally Smith, silly! She’s having a party this Saturday.

      As if Isabelle didn’t know who Sally Smith was. Sally was class secretary, due to the fact that she could type on a real typewriter. She played the oboe in the school band. She was art editor of the class paper.

      Sally was a leader.

      Mary Eliza flashed her braces at Isabelle. Isabelle looked mostly at Mary Eliza’s mouth. She hated her so much she couldn’t stand to look in her eyes. When she hated a person, she only looked in their mouths.

      That’s how she knew Chauncey Lapidus had green teeth.

      I’m going hiking with my father Saturday so I can’t go to any old party. Isabelle’s voice always got loud when she talked to Mary Eliza. She didn’t know why. Mary Eliza’s ears were perfectly good.

      I don’t think Sally was going to invite you anyway. Her mother said she would have nine girls and I know for a fact she asked Marsha and Kate and Patty …

      Mary Eliza let go of Isabelle while she ticked names off on her fingers. Isabelle put her hands over her ears and read Mary Eliza’s lips. When Mary Eliza’s mouth stopped moving, Isabelle put her hands down.

      But Mary Eliza wasn’t finished yet. It’s a slumber party in Sally’s rec room. Her father had the rec room soundproofed so we can make as much noise as we like and stay up all night if we want.

      Isabelle had to know.

      What the heck’s a rec room?

      Mary Eliza raised her eyebrows. I thought everybody knew what a rec room was. It’s to fool around in, to play records, to play games. If it’s soundproof, that’s the best, Mary Eliza said firmly. Too bad she didn’t ask you. What’s the capital of West Virginia? Mary Eliza hollered suddenly, grabbing Isabelle’s arm again.

      This time Isabelle was prepared. She gave her a few jabs with the point of her friendship ring. Hard jabs.

      Just because you got a mole on your stomach, you think you’re the big banana! Mary Eliza shouted, backing off. What’s the capital of West Virginia? I bet you don’t know.

      Big cheese, not ‘big banana,’ moron, Isabelle said scornfully, in a

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