Junie B. Jones 2-in-1 Bindup: And the Stupid Smelly Bus/And a Little Monkey Business

My name is Junie B. Jones. The B stands for Beatrice. Except I don’t like Beatrice. I just like B and that’s all.
I’m almost six years old.
Almost six is when you get to go to kindergarten. Kindergarten is where you go to meet new friends and not watch TV.
My kindergarten is the afternoon kind.
Today was my first day of school. I’d been to my room before, though. Last week Mother took me there to meet my teacher.
It was called Meet the Teacher Day. My teacher was decorating the bulletin board with the letters of the alphabet.
“I already know all of those letters,” I said. “I can sing them. Except I don’t feel like it right now.”
My teacher shook my hand. Only our hands didn’t fit together that good.
Her name was Mrs.—I can’t remember the rest of it. Mrs. said I looked cute.
“I know it,” I said. “That’s because I have on my new shoes.” I held my foot way high in the air. “See how shiny they are? Before I put them on, I licked them.
“And guess what else?” I said. “This is my bestest hat. Grampa Miller bought it for me. See the devil horns sticking out the sides?”
Mrs. laughed. Except I don’t know why. Devil horns are supposed to be scary.
Then we walked around the room and she showed me where stuff was. Like the easels where we get to paint. And the shelves where the books are. And the tables where we sit and don’t watch TV.
One of the tables in the front of the room had a red chair. “I would like to sit here, I think,” I told her.
But Mrs. said, “We’ll have to wait and see, Junie.”
“B!” I said. “Call me Junie B.!”
I hollered the B part real loud. So she wouldn’t forget it.
People are always forgetting my B.
Mother rolled her eyes and looked at the ceiling. I looked up there, too. But I didn’t see anything.
“Are you going to ride the bus, Junie B.?” Mrs. asked me.
I made my shoulders go up and down. “I don’t know. Where’s it goin’ to?”
My mother nodded her head and said, “Yes, she’ll be riding the bus.”
That made me feel scary inside. ’Cause I never rided on a bus before.
“Yeah, only where’s it goin’ to?” I asked again.
Mrs. sat on her desk. Then she and my mother talked more about the bus.
I tapped on Mrs. “Guess what? I still don’t know where it’s goin’ to.”
Mrs. smiled and said the bus driver’s name was Mr. Woo.
“Mr. Woo,” said Mother. “That’s an easy name for Junie B. to remember.”
I covered my ears and stamped my foot. “YEAH, ONLY WHERE’S THE STUPID SMELLY BUS GOIN’ TO?”
Mother and Mrs. frowned.
Frowning is when your eyebrows look grumpy.
“Watch yourself, missy,” said Mother.
Missy’s my name when I’m in trouble.
I looked down at my shoes. They didn’t look as shiny as they did before.
Just then another mother and a boy came in. And Mrs. went off to talk to them instead of me. I don’t know why, though. The boy was hiding behind his mother and acting very babyish. I can beat that boy up, I think.
After that, my mother sat me down and explained about the bus. She said it’s yellow. And it’s called a school bus. And it stops at the end of my street.
Then I get on it. And sit down. And it takes me to school.
“And then your teacher will meet you in the parking lot,” said Mother. “Okay, Junie B.? Won’t that be fun?”
I nodded the word yes.
But inside my head I said the word no.