I’m glad we are still having Library Lunch and Read. Our class is in the third group, so we get to play outside first.

  Trixie and I wait for the slide.

  She says, “I love our hamster.”

  “You said you wanted a turtle,” I reply.

  “I know. But the hamster is cute.”

  “It is cute,” I agree. “But it sleeps all the time. I was thinking about how Aarav said he wants a tarantula. I bet a tarantula would stay awake.”

  “It wouldn’t. Aarav told me tarantulas are nocturnal,” Trixie says. “Anyway, they are gross. A hamster is much nicer than a tarantula.”

  “I wonder if Mrs. Strange likes the hamster,” I say.

  “I think Mrs. Strange would like a cat,” Trixie says. “She seems like a cat person to me.”

  “A person who likes cats, right? Not a person who is part cat.”

  “Yes.” She goes onto the slide.

  I wander away. A group of little birds twitter in the bushes. I imagine them having a conversation. What would little birds talk about? I stop to listen to them. Tweet. Tweet. Chirp!

  Perhaps they are saying, “Birds are great pets.” Or the opposite! Maybe they think birds should fly free. Maybe they think we should have a donkey or a gibbon.

  Ideas twitter in my mind like little talking birds. I could write about an incredible class pet in Spell. Then our class will get a perfect class pet! Ms. Hairball will come back after lunch. And this topsy-turvy day will finally be the right way up! My classmates will be so happy with our extra-special pet. It will be the super-great day it was supposed to be!

  I cartwheel over to Trixie. She is waiting near the bottom of the slide for our turn to go to the library.

  FOUR

  The first person I see in the library is Shaylene. I do not like Shaylene. She is Ms. Hairball’s niece, and also sometimes our babysitter. She thinks she is the boss of me.

  “Hey, squirts,” she says. She does not look up from her phone.

  “We got a hamster in our class today,” Trixie says.

  “Hamsters are boring,” Shaylene says.

  Wow! I agree with Shaylene! This does not happen very often!

  “Shaylene,” I ask, “what pets do you like?”

  “I want a toy dog.”

  “Toy?”

  “Not a real toy. Toy dogs are very small dogs. Famous people carry them in their purses. Choose your book already. Now go away.” She turns back to her phone.

  Trixie and I put our backpacks in a corner of the library. We browse the books.

  An idea bursts in my mind. “What about a flying horse?” I ask.

  “What are you talking about?” Trixie asks.

  “A great class pet. How super, stunning, and spectacular would a flying horse be?” I say. “Even better than a pangolin.”

  “A horse sounds very big,” Trixie says.

  “You’re right.” I think a bit. “What if it was tiny?”

  “It would be very cute.”

  “I can’t remember what flying horses are called.”

  “Polly, there are no flying horses.”

  “Yes, there are. I’m sure there are.”

  I hurry over to the nonfiction section. These are books about real and true facts. I look at various shelves. Lots of books jump out at me. They don’t really jump, of course, but they make me notice them. I get a bit distracted. I want to read all these books.

  · Where Does Your Food Go? by Wiley Blevins

  · This Is How We Do It: One Day in the Lives of Seven Kids from around the World by Matt Lamothe

  · Who Was Rosa Parks? by Yona Zeldis McDonough

  · The Atlas Obscura Explorer’s Guide for the World’s Most Adventurous Kid by Dylan Thuras and Rosemary Mosco

  · Good Night Stories for Rebel Girls and Good Night Stories for Rebel Girls 2 by Elena Favilli and Francesca Cavallo

  · Apple in the Middle by Dawn Quigley

  Finally, I get to the animal section. I look at A Zeal of Zebras: An Alphabet of Collective Nouns by Woop Studios. It’s great, but it doesn’t have any flying horses.

  Then I find a book that will help me, Animal Encyclopedia by National Geographic. It is a super-cool book. Full of awesome photos. And maps. And amazing creatures. But none of them are flying horses.

  My little sister, Anna, rushes over and hugs me. She looks cute with her fairy wings on. Shaylene looms over us. “Anna, what would you like to read?” I guess Shaylene is Anna’s Book Buddy today.

  “What are you doing?” Anna asks me, ignoring Shaylene.

  “I’m researching. Writers need to do research. I can’t remember the name of the flying horse I once saw in a book.”

  “Pegasus,” Anna says.

  I kneel down to hug her. “You’re right, Anna! You are the smartest kid in the world.”

  Shaylene agrees. “It’s true.” Sometimes Shaylene can be very nice. To Anna. Then Shaylene says to me, “Flying horses aren’t real. You should be looking in a book of myths.”

  As soon as she says it, I know she is right. Wow! Shaylene is right twice in one day! Today really is topsy-turvy. Pegasus is from a myth. Myths are made-up stories from long ago. I am looking in the wrong book. I stick my tongue out at Shaylene. I do not like it when she is right.

  I go to my backpack and take out Spell. I write: We have a tiny Pegasus.

  I am still annoyed at Shaylene. But she was nice to Anna. So I add, Oh, and Shaylene has a toy dog.

  In front of me, pinpricks of light glow. They look like fifteen tiny stars.

  I write: What is that?

  Spell writes: Pegasus. Like you wrote. Pegasus is a constellation of stars.

  I write: Oh! No! I mean a tiny horse with wings.

  There is a sudden humming sound. A small white creature zooms between the stars. It is a flying horse! A hamster-sized flying horse.

  It is perfect.

  FIVE

  The tiny horse flies around Trixie. She doesn’t move. She is like a deer in the headlights from a car. This is a simile. BUT “deer in the headlights” is also a cliché. This is pronounced “klee-shay.” A cliché is something that people say too much. Writers are not supposed to use clichés. But Trixie does look like a deer in the headlights.

  “What is that?” she asks.

  “A perfect class pet!” I say.

  The little horse flies around my head now and then lands on my shoulder. It nuzzles up to my neck. Nuzzles is a fantabulous word. First of all, it has two Zs in it. I love double letters. The word also sounds all nice and fuzzy. That’s the way the fur on the little horse feels against my neck. In my mind, I push together the words nice and fuzzy. I love to make new words! My new word is nuzzy!

  And my new word gives me an idea! “I know what we can call our horse!” I say.

  “What?” Trixie echoes.

  “Nuzzy-Fuzzy. It rhymes. And it even has a hyphen in it!”

  Nuzzy-Fuzzy hovers up near the ceiling.

  “Here, Nuzzy-Fuzzy, come,” I whisper. The tiny horse flies down to land on my finger. It makes a tiny huffing noise. Its wings are made of tiny feathers. They are soft, like I imagine the wings of little angels feel. This seems like another cliché.

  But I bet it is also true!

  Trixie leans over and touches Nuzzy-Fuzzy gently on the nose. “You know what? You’re right, Polly. This is a great class pet. And now I also have a great idea.”

  I fill with pride. My ideas are inspiring Trixie to have ideas.

  Trixie says, “We should set up a special corner of the classroom for Nuzzy-Fuzzy. When Ms. Hairball comes back to class, we can have a Grand Introduction. It will be a great way to welcome her back.”

  “That is a terrific idea!” We race to the door. The tiny horse flies along with us. We don’t have much time to make our plan happen!

  We race toward our principal, Mr. Love.

  “Noooooo running, girls!” He always makes his words very long. He sounds like an owl.

  We stop in front of him.

  “Lunch reeeeeeecess, girls! Or library time!” he says.

  “We’re all done. We have a special project,” Trixie says. “In our class, I mean.”

  She is a very good actor. Mr. Love pauses for a second. He doesn’t seem to notice Nuzzy-Fuzzy.

  Trixie adds, “It’s very important.”

  Mr. Love nods. “Okaaaaaaay.”

  We walk quickly to our classroom.

  Everyone else is outside. Our empty classroom has a magical, quiet feeling to it. It makes me want to write a story or a poem. Writers like the quiet parts of the day. They like to fill the quiet with words. I read this in an interview with my favorite writer, Esmeralda Rock.

  Then I hear a sound. Whirr-whirr-whirr. It is the class hamster. It is so chubby and busy. It is racing around its activity wheel. It is running, running, running. The hamster looks very happy and very awake. Even though it’s daytime! Nuzzy-Fuzzy flies around the hamster cage. His wings make a buzzing sound. The pets are surprisingly noisy!

  Trixie and I get to work.

  One corner of our classroom is extra cozy. It has a plant and fairy lights. Trixie starts to make a sign for Nuzzy-Fuzzy. She writes, YOUR NEW HOME.

  Nuzzy-Fuzzy seems to like it. He zooms around the lights. But I wish we could make a more magical space for him.

  I get Spell from my backpack and write: Nuzzy-Fuzzy has a giant golden cage on the teacher’s desk. It is filled with flowers.

  There is a crackling sound. A golden cage bursts out of the top of Ms. Hairball’s desk. It grows and grows like a plant stalk. Flowers bloom inside it. One after another … after another.

  The hamster’s cage seems very small next to the giant golden cage! The hamster is suddenly as still as a statue. “Still as a statue” is another cliché!

  But it is also true.

  “What do you think?” I ask Trixie.

  “It has, um, a lot of flowers in it.”

  She has a point. There are so many flowers in the cage that there is hardly any room for Nuzzy-Fuzzy.

  I glance at Spell. I did write that the cage should be giant. And I did write: filled with flowers. Ms. Hairball might be annoyed that it is covering most of her desk. Maybe we can move it by the fairy lights.

  Suddenly, the bell rings. I hear talking and rushing feet.

  It’s too late to do anything more.

  It’s time for the Grand Introduction.

  The door swings open.

  Oh, no!

  It is not Ms. Hairball!

  SIX

  Mrs. Strange stops in the doorway.

  “Where is Ms. Hairball—I mean, Ms. Arbul?” I ask.

  At the same time, Trixie says, “Meet Nuzzy-Fuzzy.”

  Mrs. Strange claps her hand over her mouth. She is definitely surprised. She takes her hand away from her mouth. “Yes. Ms. Hairball—no, Ms. Arbul—won’t be back today. But she’s okay. Now, girls, what is this?”

  “Meet our class pet, Nuzzy-Fuzzy!” I say.

  Dawson Dawsons pushes past Mrs. Strange. “Awesome potatoes!” he cries. He reaches out one finger for Nuzzy-Fuzzy. The tiny horse lands on it. Dawson Dawsons rubs his nose against the nose of Nuzzy-Fuzzy! It looks like Nuzzy-Fuzzy is talking to him. Maybe that’s why Dawson Dawsons never makes any sense—he’s speaking horse language! He is an animal person! An animal person is someone who is good with animals. Not a person who is part person and part animal. I wonder what they are saying to each other.

  Aarav comes in. He looks at the tiny horse and then turns to me. “Cool! I want a tarantula. I want to call him Biggie.”

  Hannah is next. “Ooooh, gorgeous!” She tries to pet Nuzzy-Fuzzy, who skitters closer to Dawson Dawsons. “Where did you get it, Polly? Can we get a unicorn, too?”

  Soon everyone is in the classroom admiring Nuzzy-Fuzzy.

  Mrs. Strange makes a sighing sound. Then she claps her hands. We all stop talking.

  “Class Three B! To your desks,” she cries. “It’s time for quiet writing. I need to think.”

  Quiet writing! My favorite. I open up Spell. I look around the classroom. All the kids love Nuzzy-Fuzzy. They will be even happier when they get their own pets.

  I write, Aarav has a tarantula called Biggie. Our class has a unicorn for Hannah. She’s purple. She loves purple.

  There is a strange fizzy sound across the room. And then Hannah turns purple! Hands, hair, clothes, everything! She holds her hands up, flips them over, and screams.

  Oh no! I meant the unicorn is purple. Not Hannah!

  We hear a rumble. A crack appears in the classroom floor. One hairy leg appears, and then another. With a shimmy, like it is dancing, a tarantula bigger than a volleyball squeezes through.

  “Hello, I’m BIGGIE!” it says cheerfully.

  “You can talk!” Aarav yells.

  “HELP!” Dawson Dawsons yells. “I’m scared of spiders!” He leaps onto a desk.

  A unicorn walks past outside the window! It leans its face against the window to look inside.

  Biggie puts a hairy arm around Dawson Dawsons’s shoulder.

  “No need to be scared of me,” it booms.

  Mrs. Strange is sitting at her desk. She is completely still, like the hamster was before. Maybe she doesn’t like the pets I’ve chosen for everyone else. I need to get a perfect pet for her, too.

  I write: I want a perfect pet for Mrs. Strange. But I can’t think of one.

  A baboon? Spell asks.

  I write: Probably not. What did Trixie say before? Ah, I remember. I think she’s a cat person.

  There is a meow from the front of the class.

  Whoops!

  My magic book has turned Mrs. Strange into a cat person.

  SEVEN

  Nuzzy-Fuzzy flies across the room. Biggie the tarantula sees him. Biggie SCREAMS, “What is that?”

  Biggie jumps onto my desk. He knocks Spell to the floor.

  The unicorn appears at the classroom door. Then it trots over toward Biggie. He screams again.

  Oh, no—Biggie is scared of the other animals!

  I try to calm Biggie down. “It’s okay. They’re all very nice.” Biggie jumps away from me to another desk. Then another. The desks creak. He lands on Mrs. Strange’s desk. He knocks our poor hamster’s cage against Nuzzy-Fuzzy’s cage. The door of the hamster cage springs open.

  The unicorn clippety-clops by my desk, accidentally kicking Spell under it.

  Mrs. Strange, or maybe I should call her Mrs. Cat, walks toward me. She is meowing.

  “I don’t understand cat language, I’m sorry,” I say. But truthfully, I can guess what she’s saying. She does not want to be a cat!

  I know I can fix this.

  I duck under my desk to get Spell. The hamster is under my desk, too. It looks scared. I put my hand out. For a moment, it seems like it might run away. Then one of the hooves of the unicorn steps very close. The hamster rushes into my hand.

  Its feet are light and its fur is soft. Its little eyes watch mine. It is actually really super-duper sweet. We definitely don’t need all the other pets. I grab Spell with my free hand.

  I am a very good writer. I’d better hurry to fix this pet pandemonium!

  It is hard to write with a hamster in one hand! But I do my best. I write: Biggie is not scared of the other animals. He goes home.

  There is a loud creak. Biggie clambers off the desk. “Lovely to meet you all! I’m heading home now!” He reaches one hairy arm to pet the unicorn. Then he puts another hairy leg into the hole in the floor and scuttles into it. He moves surprisingly fast.

  Now I write: Hannah changes color.

  With a fizz and a pop, Hannah turns from one color to another. She shifts through red, green, blue, yellow! Hands, hair, clothes, everything! She screams.

  I quickly write: I mean Hannah is her usual self!

  Spell seems to understand this, because this time with another fizz, Hannah isn’t a rainbow of colors! She’s just Hannah. But I don’t have time to think about her anymore. Mrs. Strange is meowing at me.

  I write: Mrs. Strange is a person person, not a cat person.

  Two Mrs. Stranges stand in front of me. Whoops! Writing is hard!

  Two Mrs. Stranges make me think I’m in double trouble.

  EIGHT

  I try again. This time I write: Mrs. Strange is a person. And Nuzzy-Fuzzy’s huge cage is gone. The hole in the floor is sealed over. The unicorn returns to its unicorn land.

  Poof! Whoosh! Wow! There is just one Mrs. Strange standing next to me. The floor creaks and squeaks. A SEAL pops out of it.

  “ARF! ARF! ARF!” the seal barks.

  How did we get a seal? I read over what I wrote. The hole in the floor is sealed over. Whoops!

  At least the unicorn is gone.

  The seal slides across the floor. It is very large, and it smells like fish.

  “Ugh, gross,” Luala cries.

  “I’m going to barf!” Dawson Dawsons says.

  I have work to do.

  I write: The seal goes back to the ocean. The floor is fixed. I look over at Dawson Dawsons. Nuzzy-Fuzzy flies close to his head. I write: Dawson Dawsons gets to keep Nuzzy-Fuzzy.

  There is a buzzing in the air. I read over the words I’ve written. Yes, this time, my writing seems perfect. Phew!

  When everything has calmed down, Dawson Dawsons asks Mrs. Strange to call his parents. It turns out that his mom loves horses. She is very happy to have a tiny flying horse live with them. Dawson Dawsons is quiet and happy! Nuzzy-Fuzzy sits on his shoulder.

 

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