Judy Moody Declares Independence Read Free Page A

Judy.
    Tori wrote down her address in London. Judy gave Tori her address in Virginia. “We can send each other sugar packets!” Tori whispered. “It’ll be the bee’s knees!”
    Judy did not feel like the bee’s knees.
    She, Judy Moody, was in a nark. Not a good nark. A bad nark.

Judy was in a nark for four hundred forty-four miles. She was in a nark all the way through Rhode Island, Connecticut, New York, and Pennsylvania. (She slept through Maryland.) She was even in a nark through Home of the Presidents, Washington, D.C.
    Judy Moody was in a nark for seven hours and nineteen minutes. A Give-Me-Liberty nark.
    “Mom! Judy won’t play car games with me.”
    Stink wanted to count cows. Stink wanted to play the license plate game. Stink wanted to play Scrabble Junior.
    “Judy,” said Mom. “Play Scrabble with your brother.”
    “It’s
baby
Scrabble!” said Judy. “I know. Let’s play the silent game. Where you see how long you can go without talking.”
    “Hardee-har-har,” said Stink.
    “I win!” said Judy.
    “Hey, you two,” said Mom.
    “It’s her fault,” said Stink.
    “Judy, you’re not still in a mood about Tori, are you?” asked Mom.

    “You never let me do stuff,” said Judy. “You should hear all the stuff Tori gets to do in England! She has tons of sleepovers. She even has her own phone. And her own bathroom! And she gets pounds of allowance. You think I’m still a baby or something.”
    “Or something,” said Stink.
    “Judy, if you want us to treat you like you’re more grown-up, and if you want a raise in your allowance, then you’ll have to show us that you can be more responsible.”
    “And not always get in a mood about everything,” said Dad.
    “I’ve never even had a sleepover before!” said Judy.
    “Maybe when we get home, you can have a sleepover with Jessica Finch,” said Mom.
    “When cows read,” said Judy. She, Judy Moody, was moving to England. She chewed two pieces of ABC gum, loud as a cow. She blew bubbles.
Pop! Pop! Pop-pop-pop!
    “She’s still in a mood!” announced Stink.
    In her mood journal, Judy made up nicknames for Stink all the rest of the way home.

    When Judy got home, she dragged her tote bag upstairs to her room.
Thwump, thwump, thwump
. She dragged her backpack, her blanket, her pillow, and her sock monkey. And her stuff from the gift shop. She shut the door and climbed up into her secret hideaway (her top bunk).
    She, Judy Moody, was supposed to be writing her makeup book report, as in not waiting till the very, very last minute. Instead, she declared freedom from homework.
    Then she, Judy Moody, had an idea. A freedom idea. A John Hancock idea. A Declaration of Independence idea.
    She did not even stop to call Rocky and tell him about the Boston Tea Party Ship and the Giant Milk Bottle that sold star-spangled bananas. She did not even stop to call Frank and tell him about Mother Goose’s grave and the musical toilet.
    That could wait till tomorrow.
    But some things could not wait.
    Judy gazed in awe at the copy of the Declaration of Independence she’d gotten in Boston. It was on old-timey brown paper with burned edges that looked like tea had been spilled on it. Judy squinted to try to read the fancy-schmancy handwriting.

    When in the bones of human events . . . blah blah blah . . . we hold these truths . . . more blah blah . . . alien rights . . . Life, Liberty, and the Purse of Happiness.
    She, Judy Moody, would hereby, this day, make the Judy Moody Declaration of Independence. With alien rights and her own Purse of Happiness and everything.
    Judy pulled out the paper place mat she had saved from the Milk Street Cafe. The back was brown from chocolate-milk spills. Perfect! At last, Judy Moody knew what Ben Franklin meant when he said
Don’t cry over spilled milk.
    The real Declaration of Independence was written with a quill pen. Luckily, she, Judy Moody, just happened to have a genuine-and-for-real quill pen from the gift