Anna, Banana, and the Monkey in the Middle Page 4

Dad came in and patted Banana’s rump, then patted me on the head. He sank into his favorite armchair. “Feeling any better?” he asked.

  I shrugged.

  He raised an eyebrow. “You want to talk about it, kiddo?”

  I ran my hand over Banana’s soft ears and wondered how to even explain what was going on. “Isabel and Sadie are making me feel like monkey bread,” I said.

  Dad pressed his lips together. “How so?” he asked.

  I told him what had happened on the bus and at the zoo, and how it felt like Isabel and Sadie were sort of fighting over me. “I’m trying to divide myself equally, but it seems like they both keep thinking they’re getting the smaller piece.”

  “Wow,” Dad said. “That sounds exhausting.”

  “It is!” I said. “And it feels impossible to make everyone happy.”

  “Well, that’s because it is impossible to make everyone happy,” Dad said. “But you know, fairness doesn’t always mean everyone gets the same thing.”

  That surprised me. “What?” I said.

  Dad leaned forward. “What I mean is, there are some things that it’s good to try to split evenly. Like a cookie, or maybe even who sits next to whom on the bus.”

  I nodded. “That’s what we’re doing.”

  “Right,” Dad said. “But things like friendship and love don’t work that way. You, my dear, are not a cookie, and your friendship is not a piece of cake. Having two best friends doesn’t mean cutting yourself in half to hand out two smaller pieces. Your love doesn’t get divided up like monkey bread. It grows and grows, like the pasta in Strega Nona’s magic pot.”

  “I know that,” I said. And I did. But I wished I could explain it to Isabel and Sadie.

  Dad scratched the back of his neck, like he sometimes does when he’s thinking. “It sounds like you and Sadie and Isabel came up with a pretty good system for how to make things work today. And you’ll keep on figuring out what works. But not everything will always be equal, and that’s okay. In fact, sometimes it’s more fair that way.”

  “How could that be more fair?” I said. “That makes no sense.”

  “Well, for example, is it unfair that I wear glasses and you and Mom and Chuck don’t have any?” Dad said.

  “Um . . . no?” I said.

  Dad didn’t seem to notice that he’d lost me. “I think being fair means making sure everyone has what they need,” he said. “Which is not the same thing as giving everyone what they want, by the way. And since everyone has different needs, the things we get aren’t always the same. Like how I need glasses but the rest of you don’t, so I get glasses and you do not. It would be silly to hand out glasses to everyone because one person needs them. And it would be even sillier to say that I can’t have glasses because the rest of you aren’t wearing any.”

  Huh. I hadn’t thought of it that way.

  “Fairness doesn’t always mean sameness,” Dad went on. “But if you’re looking for things to be unfair, you’ll probably always find it. So I think an important part of friendship is not keeping score. You have to trust that things will even out in the long run.”

  I almost laughed. “Yeah, but what if Sadie and Isabel keep score? They keep asking me what I think and wanting me to make choices about stuff.”

  Dad shrugged. “So tell them what you think. Maybe they really want to hear your opinion. They’re your friends, Anna. They want you to be you. It’s okay if you don’t all think the same thing. In fact, it’s probably a lot more interesting that way.”

  Banana nuzzled up against me to show she agreed.

  I took a deep breath, and let it out fast. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll try it.”

  “Good,” Dad said. He smiled. “You know what I think would be fair and fun? Let’s invite Isabel and Sadie for a sleepover this weekend.”

  I sat up fast, startling Banana. “Really?” I said.

  “Yup,” Dad said. I tackled him with a hug and he laughed and squeezed me back. “I’ll call their parents. You go brush your teeth. Mom will be up soon to tuck you in.”

  I started up the stairs. “And hey, Anna,” Dad called after me.

  I stopped. “Yeah?” I said.

  “No monkey business.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Let Me Count the Ways

  I woke up super early with the morning sunlight flooding into my room and an idea flooding into my brain. I finally got what Banana had been trying to tell me on our walk yesterday. I heard the shower turn on in my parents’ bathroom, which meant Mom was getting ready and Dad was probably already up. I couldn’t wait to tell him my idea. I threw on some clothes and ran downstairs with Banana right beside me. “Dad!” I shouted as we burst into the kitchen. There was no response.

  Banana led the way to the other side of the house, where Dad’s office is. The door was closed and I could hear the tap-tap-tap of his fingers on the keyboard. Dad must have woken up with ideas in his brain too.

  The books Dad writes are really long and they’re all set in the past. The covers show women in dresses that lace up the front and men whose shirts are blowing off in the wind. In the background there’s a sunset or a storm, and sometimes a ship or a castle. The man and the woman usually look like they’re angry or about to kiss. Possibly both.

  Chuck says the books have a lot of kissing in them.

  Some of the covers have horses on them too, like the last one, Heart’s Full Gallop. I liked it when Dad was writing that one because he needed me to tell him everything I know about horses to help with his research. Sadie says we should read that one when we’re older. But even though it has a white stallion on the cover, I think it’s still mostly about the kissing.

  It’s nice that Dad being a writer means he’s always home and available if we need him, but I know better than to interrupt him when he’s on a roll. Besides, this was an emergency I could handle myself. I just needed to find my glitter pens.

  Banana and I tiptoed away from the office door so we wouldn’t disturb Dad’s work. We searched for the glitter pens in the living room, in my bedroom, and in Mom’s huge walk-in closet. There was no sign of them. I was about to send Banana to sneak a look in Chuck’s bedroom, when I remembered using the glitter pens in the kitchen to make a card for Nana and Grumps last week. We found them in the regular pen jar on the counter. Dad had used the green one to write More coffee on the grocery list.

  I rescued the sparkly pens and found some pretty blue paper that I was sure Mom would say I could use for this if she were out of the shower to ask. But I didn’t have time to wait. And I only needed two pieces: one for each of my two best friends.

  I sat down with my supplies at the kitchen table and Banana sat nearby to watch. I uncapped the silver glitter pen and, in my very best printing, wrote You Are My Favorite Isabel Because across the top of the first sheet of paper. Then I chose the purple glitter pen and wrote You Are My Favorite Sadie Because on the other sheet.

  I showed Banana. She thumped her tail.

  We made two different lists for my two different best friends, to show them why they could never be replaced.

  I was just putting the finishing touches on my lists when Mom walked into the kitchen. She peeked over my shoulder at the border of rainbows and ponies that I was drawing around Sadie’s list. I’m not as great an artist as Isabel, but it still looked really good. “That’s beautiful, Annabear,” Mom said. “I like the hearts and stars and squiggles on the other one, too. Is this for homework?”

  “Nope,” I said. “It’s for choosing favorites. A favorite Isabel and a favorite Sadie.”

  “Oh,” Mom said. “Well, want to help your favorite mother put out the breakfast things when you’re done?”

  “Sure!” I said. I used the gold pen to draw a tiny dog at the bottom of Sadie’s list, like I’d already done on Isabel’s. I wrote, P.S. You’re Banana’s favorite Sadie too.

  There. The lists were done.

  Now each of my favorite friends would know she’d never be sec
ond best.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Three Heads Are Better Than One

  When I got to school, Isabel and Sadie were already there. I spotted them out on the playground, dangling off the monkey bars. It looked like they were practicing some kind of fancy gymnastics routine they must have made up together that morning. I was glad to see them getting along so well without me. They might not be best friends yet, but they were definitely having fun.

  “Anna!” Isabel shouted when she saw me. I ran over to them.

  “We’re doing flips,” Sadie said. “Watch!”

  Sadie counted to three, and she and Isabel swung their legs in the air and hooked their knees around the bars. They let go with their hands and dangled upside down with their arms stretched out.

  I clapped. “Bravo!” I cheered, like I’d seen people do on TV.

  They laughed and jumped down. “Who did it faster?” Sadie asked, fixing her ponytail.

  “Isabel did,” I said honestly.

  I watched to see if Sadie might get mad, but she didn’t look upset. Maybe Dad was right. Maybe she really wasn’t keeping score. “Let’s do it again!” she said, climbing back up.

  Isabel nudged me. “Your turn to try it. This time I’ll be the judge.”

  I wriggled out of my backpack and tucked in my shirt. We flipped and climbed and twisted through the air until the first bell rang.

  As we walked toward the school building, I took out the lists I’d made and handed them to my friends.

  “What’s this?” Sadie asked, unfolding hers.

  “Pretty,” Isabel said, touching the border I’d drawn.

  Sadie’s smile got wider and wider as she read hers. She threw her arms around my neck. “You’re my favorite Anna, too,” she said.

  “And mine,” Isabel said, joining the hug. “I’m going to hang this in my room!”

  I felt as pleased as a dog with two tails, as my Nana would say.

  We stepped into the classroom and went to our seats. I looked up at the whiteboard. The word of the day was “lionhearted.” Lionhearted: brave and determined; courageous. I liked that.

  Ms. Burland clapped twice to start the day. “Good morning, junior zoologists!” she said. “Today we’re heading straight for the library to work on our animal reports. Grab your partner or partners, and a notebook and pen, and let’s line up at the door, please!”

  I reached into my desk and took out my lucky blue pencil and the purple notebook with the three pony stickers on it. I hoped they would give me luck in telling my friends what I’d decided I needed to say. I’d rehearsed it with Banana that morning, but I was still worried the words might not come out right. Or that Sadie might be upset when she heard them.

  Sadie was saving Isabel and me a place at the front of the line, right behind Ms. Burland. “Are those real fur?” Sadie asked Ms. Burland as we followed her down the hall.

  I looked down at the teacher’s feet. Her shoes were covered in leopard-print fur. They made a click, click, clack sound as she walked.

  “Nope!” Ms. Burland said. “No giant cats—or tiny ones—were harmed in the making of these shoes. They’re pretty wild, though, right?”

  Sadie giggled. “Ferocious feet,” she said.

  “Rwarrr!” Isabel added.

  We claimed a small table in one corner of the library. Isabel uncapped her pen. “Okay, so, crocodiles,” she said. “What if we—”

  “Wait,” I said, at the exact same time that Sadie said it too.

  We looked at each other. “You first,” Sadie said.

  I sat up as tall as I could go and tried to be as lionhearted as possible. “I think we should do our project on giant pandas,” I said. “Sadie, I know you think that’s unfair, but everything can’t always be fair, and—”

  “No,” Sadie interrupted. “I think we should do it on pandas too.”

  I was so surprised, I couldn’t speak.

  “You do?” Isabel said.

  “Yeah.” Sadie nodded. “Crocodiles are all right, but pandas are way cooler. I still don’t think they’re as great as zebras, but they’re really cute, and Isabel, I know you love them.” She turned to me. “Like you said, it’s sad that they’re endangered. People should talk about that. We should talk about that. It will make a great report.”

  “Cool,” Isabel said.

  “Okay,” I agreed. I felt my smile reaching all the way up to my eyes. “Let’s do it.”

  “I think we should make a poster to go with the presentation,” Sadie said. “Isabel can draw the pandas, and I’m pretty good at trees. Anna, you have the nicest handwriting, so you should do the lettering.”

  “Yeah!” Isabel said. “And we can glue cotton balls onto the pandas so they’re actually fuzzy, like Ms. Burland’s shoes.”

  “And we’ll use black markers to color in some of the cotton balls,” I added.

  “We should write all this down,” Sadie said.

  Isabel wrote Ideas at the top of her paper and started making a list. “This is going to be an awesome project,” she said. Sadie and I agreed.

  “Hey, maybe your dad will let us make panda pancakes at the sleepover this weekend,” Sadie said to me.

  The sleepover! Banana and I couldn’t wait. “I bet he will,” I said.

  I grinned at my favorite Isabel and my favorite Sadie. We made a great team.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to:

  Editor extraordinaire and friend

  of all pandas Kristin Ostby;

  art director Laurent Linn, illustrator Meg Park,

  and the whole talented herd at S&S;

  zookeeper—nay, shepherd

  of dreams Meredith Kaffel;

  my pack, especially plot wrangler Robin Wasserman,

  lion tamer Terra McVoy, and slugabed Jeff Snyder;

  Jeremy, Anna, and Pia, who took me to the zoo;

  my parents, who appreciate strange birds

  and silly geese;

  Arugula Badidea, who is very ferocious;

  and my flock of fellow book lovers.

  Anica Mrose Rissi grew up on an island off the coast of Maine, where she read a lot of books and loved a lot of pets. She now tells and collects stories, makes up songs on her violin, and eats lots of cheese with her friends in Brooklyn, New York, where she lives with her dog, Arugula. Find out more at anicarissi.com.

  Meg Park is an illustrator who lives in Scotland with her two cats, Louie and Boo. She loves drawing, painting, and telling stories through her artwork. To learn more about Meg and her art you can visit megpark.com.

  Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers

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  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2015 by Anica Mrose Rissi

  Illustrations copyright © 2015 by Meg Park

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

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  Book design by Laurent Linn

  The text for this book is set in Minister Std.

  The illustrations for this book are rendered digitally.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Rissi, Anica Mrose.

  Anna, Banana, and the monkey in the middle / Anica Mrose Rissi ;

  illustrated by Meg Park.—1st edition.

  pages cm

  Summary: Anna has looked forward to her class field trip to the zoo, but from the time they board the bus she is pulled between her long-time best friend, Sadie, and new best friend, Isabel, who argue about everything and want Anna to take sides.

  ISBN 978-1-4814-1608-5 (hardcover)

  ISBN 978-1-4814-1610-8 (eBook)

  [1. Best friends—Fiction. 2. Friendship—Fiction. 3. Behavior—Fiction. 4. Zoos—Fiction. 5. School field trips—Fiction. 6. Family life—Fiction. 7. Dogs—Fiction.]

  I. Park, Meg, illustrator. II. Title.

  PZ7.R5265Ans 2015

  [Fic]—dc23

  2014017618