Friend Or Fiend? Read online

  “Abigail, sweetie ...” Dad said.

  The Pain said, “I don't care if you love her best, because Fluzzy loves me best. So there!” He picked up Fluzzy and let him lick some of his ice cream.

  “Fluzzy loves me as much as he loves you!” I shouted.

  “Does not!”

  “Does too!”

  I tried to take Fluzzy away from him. But Fluzzy jumped down and ran around us in circles.

  “Isn't this supposed to be a party for Fluzzy?” Dad asked, handing me a chocolate ice cream cone.

  “She ruined the party !” the Pain said, pointing at me. “Her and her stupid cupcakes!”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said you ruined the party crying over your stupid cupcakes. But who cares, because Fluzzy doesn't need a party to know I love him ... so ha ha!”

  That did it! I flew across the room and smushed my ice cream cone against the Pain's forehead. It stuck there. He looked like a unicorn! The ice cream started

  dripping down his face. When it got to his mouth he stuck out his tongue and lapped it up. “Um . . . good . . .”

  “Did you hear that?” I asked Mom and Dad. “It's chocolate! My unicorn is eating chocolate ice cream!”

  “I'm not your unicorn. I'm your brother! And I'll always be your brother.” He grabbed the ice cream cone off his forehead, took a look, saw that it was chocolate, then kept licking it anyway.

  “And I'll always be your sister,” I told him. “Your big sister. And don't you forget it!”

  “How could I forget?”

  “You can't. Because if it weren't for me you'd still be eating vanilla ice cream!” Now he wasn't just tasting my ice cream, he was gobbling it up as fast as he could. “He's eating my whole ice cream cone!” I cried.

  Mom said, “Don't worry about it.” And she made me another one.

  After our ice cream we all sang "Happy

  Birthday" to Fluzzy. And this time when Dad snapped a picture, I think even Fluzzy smiled.

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  Friend or Fiend?

  No Hats for Fluzzy

  Hats, hats, hats! Hats for cold white stuff. Hats for wet stuff. Hats for riding on wheels.

  But no hats for Fluzzy!

  She wanted me to wear hats.

  That girl with tails coming out of her ears.

  I hissed to tell her I don't like hats.

  But she didn't get it. She called me Mister.

  What kind of name is that?

  That boy was even worse.

  He tried to push me into the bathtub.

  Don't you want to learn to swim? he said.

  No, I didn't want to learn to swim!

  So I hissed and I stuck out my claws.

  He pulled my tail.

  I tried to bite him before he bit me.

  They chased me through the house.

  Stupid cat! she called.

  When the door opened I flew out.

  I ran as fast as I could

  And as far as I could.

  I was never going to let them find me.

  When the big booms came

  I was scared. But I kept going.

  When the sky lit up I shook all over.

  But I kept going.

  When the water fell from the sky

  I got wet. But I still kept going.

  I kept going until

  I was too tired to run anymore.

  I cried, Meow . . . meow . . .

  A door opened. I ran inside.

  A different boy and girl lived here.

  Ohhh . . . he's so wet, she said.

  And he's shaking, he said.

  Poor little kitty!

  They dried me.

  They gave me milk

  And a soft place to sleep.

  When the mom asked,

  But who does he belong to?

  I didn't tell.

  Besides, I never really belonged to other two, Even if they didn't know it.

  These two were different. They called me Fluffy. Or maybe it was Fuzzy. No, wait... it was Fluzzy-Anything was better than Mister

  After that I was happy Until the cold white day When I saw them again. Two Tails and Tail Puller. I heard Two Tails say, 1 know that cat! That cat looks just like Mister.

  When she said that my fur stood up.

  My whiskers stuck out.

  Tail Puller said, “Mister was a bad cat!”

  That did it!

  I leaped across the cold white stuff

  And crept under the house.

  I didn't come out till I was sure they were gone.

  Tonight when the big booms came again

  And the sky lit up

  And the water came falling down

  I hid in my secret place.

  In the closet, way in back,

  On top of the towels.

  I didn't come out for a long, long time.

  When I did he said,

  Guess what, Fluzz ... you're having a party!

  Party! I tried to remember what party

  means.

  It didn't sound good.

  She tried to put a hat on me.

  I knew party wasn't a good word!

  No hats for Fluzzy! I told her. But she didn't get it.

  So I shook off the hat. And I bit it a hundred times.

  She said, Stop that, Fluzzy'-He laughed.

  No hats for Fluzzy!

  I said again. This time they understood.

  They wore hats, but not me.

  When they started fighting about who I

  love best

  I ran around them in circles.

  I love it when they fight over me.

  Then I let the two of them stretch me out.

  She held my front end.

  He held my rear.

  I brushed his face with my tail.

  They started singing a song.

  I think it was about me.

  They smiled when the dad snapped

  picture. So I smiled too.

  I'll stay with them forever.

  As long as they remember:

  No hats for Fluzzy!

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  [Image: a boy on the floor]

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  Judy Blume spent her childhood in Elizabeth, New Jersey, making up stories inside her head. She has spent her adult years in many places, doing the same thing, only now she writes her stories down on paper. Her twenty-eight books have won many awards, including the National Book Foundation's Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters.

  Judy lives in Key West and New York City. You can visit her at www.judyblume.com.

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  James Stevenson has written and illustrated more than a hundred books for children. In forty years at the New Yorker, he published more than two thousand cartoons and covers, as well as numerous written pieces. His illustrated column “Lost and Found New York” frequently appears on the op-ed page of the New York Times.