Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Celebrating 40 years of a Judy Blume classic!
Millions of fans young and old have been entertained by the quick wit of Peter Hatcher, the hilarious antics of mischevious Fudge, and the unbreakable confidence of know-it-all Sheila Tubman in Judy Blume's five Fudge books. And now, Puffin Books honors forty years of the book that started it all, Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing, with a special edition--featuring a new introduction from Judy--to celebrate this perennial favorite.
“As a kid, Judy Blume was my favorite author, and Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing was my favorite book.”—Jeff Kinney, author of the bestselling Wimpy Kid series
up her things, got her coat, and left. “I hope she never comes back,” Jimmy said. “She’ll be back,” I told him. “We’re her committee.” Jimmy laughed. “Yeah . . . we’re all one happy committee!” I put our poster under the bed, said good-bye to Jimmy, then washed up for supper. My mother was being pretty nice about our committee meetings. She arranged to have Fudge play at Ralph’s apartment on Tuesdays and at Jennie’s on Thursdays. Sam has the chicken pox, so he can’t play
box of popcorn he forgot about his stuffed pants. Right after we got settled in our seats a big boy sat down in front of Fudge, so he had to change seats with my father. Now he was on the aisle, I was in the middle, and my father was on my other side. When the lights dimmed Fudge said, “Ohhh . . . dark.” I told him, “Be quiet. You can’t talk in the movies.” “Okay, Pee-tah,” he said. That’s when he started throwing his popcorn. At first I didn’t notice but I wondered why
sister Libby was twirling around in her pink toe slippers. She is thirteen and thinks she’s a great ballerina. I could hold my nose for the way Libby dances, but I’d get into big trouble if I did. My mother said, “You better go back down and get the milk, Sheila.” I flopped into the big chair that tilts back and said, “I can’t, Mom. I’m dead. I just walked up the stairs.” “Don’t tell me the elevator is out of order!” Mom said. “No.” “Then why did you walk up ten flights
She served him the two little lamb chops on his plate under the table. Just the smell of them was enough to make my stomach growl. I thought it was mean of my mother to make them for Fudge and not me. Fudge looked at his lamb chops for a few minutes. Then he pushed his plate away. “No!” he said. “No chops!” “Fudgie . . . you’ll starve!” my mother cried. “You must eat!” “No chops! Corn Flakes,” Fudge said. “Want Corn Flakes!” My mother ran to get the cereal for Fudge. “You can
“Vroom—vroom—vroom!” he yells. In the fall the leaves turn darker and drop off the trees. Sometimes there are big leaf piles on the ground. It’s fun to jump around in them. I never saw bright red, yellow, and orange leaves until the day my father took us for a drive in the country. The reason the leaves don’t turn bright colors in New York is the air pollution. And that’s too bad. Because yellow and orange and red leaves really look neat! One nice sunny afternoon I called for Jimmy