Book 1 in the ‘Izzy Jeen the Big-Mouth Queen’ series

by Wil Mara

Chapter One—I Lose It (As Usual)

Hey—pay attention! I’m writing something here!

My name is Isabella—Isabella Jean Marino. I’m eight years old, and I’m in the third grade. I like reading and history the best, math and science the worst. Math isn’t just boring. It’s like fall-asleep-at-your-desk kind of boring. And science…don’t even get me started.

Most of the kids in school call me Izzy. But not all of them. Some have a nickname for me—“Izzy Jeen the Big-Mouthed Queen.” That was written across the chalkboard one morning. Everyone just laughed and laughed. I never found out who put it there. Some dorkmeister who doesn’t know how to spell “Jean” right.

Anyway, I got the name because I lose my cool a lot. I mean, a lot. It’s how I deal with things that make me unhappy. Everyone tells me I should calm down. I’ve tried, and I am getting better—a little. But there are times when I just can’t help it. I have to say what I feel. And I usually do it a lot louder than I probably need to. I mean, okay, maybe I am something of a big mouth. But still…

If I ever find out who wrote that on the chalkboard…boy, are they gonna be sorry.

****

So get this—

I’m walking home from school yesterday. My grandma is with me. I call her “G-ma,” actually. It’s so much cooler than “grandma” or “grandmother” or whatever. She’s the best, okay? (And don’t tell me your G-ma is the best, because she isn’t—mine is.) She walks me to and from school most days. I love being around her. She says she was just like me when she was my age. How great is that?

Anyway, we’re walking…walking…walking…Then we come to Harmony Hill Park. I was thinking about doing my homework there. It was one of those days. All sunny and blue and warm and nice. The kind of day where you almost don’t mind doing your homework. (Not quite, but almost.) And G-ma likes being at the park. She says it’s good to be out in the fresh air and sunshine.

But I couldn’t do my homework at the park that day. Why? Because there was a fence around it. It wasn’t there the day before! It was one of those metal fences that shakes like crazy when you climb it.

We saw a gate, so we went over to it. The gate had a chain, and the chain had a lock. But that wasn’t what made me so mad. It was the sign on the gate that made me mad. Like, really mad—

HARMONY HILL PARK

IS NOW CLOSED

 “What?” I asked. “What does that even mean?!”

G-ma shook her head. “I have no idea. But it doesn’t sound good.”

I didn’t know parks could close. It’s not like they have doors or windows or anything.

Except this one had a door now, kind of. And the door had a lock.

I looked through the fence at all the stuff inside. The swings, the slide, the picnic tables…This is the only park I’ve ever known. I’ve been coming here forever. It’s right up the street from my house.

I admit it—I think of it as my park. Yeah, I know I don’t own it or anything. But still…it’s mine. It just is.

I pulled on the lock, but nothing happened. It was closed up tight.

Then I heard a voice behind me—

“You’re not supposed to be touching that.”

G-ma and I both turned around. There was a man standing there. He was wearing jeans and a plaid shirt. He also has this bright yellow helmet on. It looked pretty ridiculous.

“Why not?” I fired back. “This is my park!”

The man kind of smiled. “Little missy, this park belongs to the town of Freemont.”

I hate being called things like ‘little missy.’

“It belongs to me!” I said. “Me and all the other kids around here!”

I already had a feeling I was going to get in trouble for this. Yelling back at a grownup…that’s always been a problem for me. But like I said before, sometimes I can’t help it. And G-ma usually takes my side on these kinds of things—but not always.

“Well, you’ll need to find another park to play in,” the guy said. He didn’t seem too upset by the idea, either. That just made me madder.

“I don’t want to find another park to play in!” I nearly shouted. “I play in this one!”

“This one is going to become a row of townhouses,” he said.

“Town-houses?!” I howled. I wasn’t even a hundred percent sure what townhouses were. But I was a hundred percent sure I didn’t want them here. (Now that was some math I knew about!)

“That’s right, townhouses,” he replied. “So you and your grandma run along now and get on home.”

“She calls me ‘G-ma,’ young man,” G-ma tells him. She didn’t sound any happier than I was.

“Yeah, whatever,” he says, the big twerp.

I could feel smoke coming out of my ears. I was angry and confused and sad all at the same time. (But mostly angry, of course. My dad calls it my ‘default position,’ whatever that means. I think it has something to do with the way I act most of the time.)

“Fine, I’m going,” I told the guy. “But I’ll be back!”

“Whatever,” he replied again. Ooooo….

I took G-ma’s hand and stomped off. I could feel the ground shake with every step. And I kept mumbling the same thing over and over to myself—

“No one touches my park and gets away with it.”

Chapter Two—I Find Out Who Did It

I walked into the house and went looking for my dad. He had taken the day off from work because he had to fix our washing machine. It wasn’t draining all the water out or something. I don’t know; I don’t do the laundry.

I went into the basement, and there he was. My dad’s a tall and skinny guy. He has dark hair and wears glasses. He’s pretty cool as dads go, but don’t tell him I said that.

 He was lying on the floor. The washer was tilted back so he could work on it from underneath. There were tools all over the place. He also had his iPad propped up next to him. There was a YouTube video showing him how to do the fixes.

“Hey,” I said.

He leaned up and saw me. “Hey, kiddo.”

“I have a question.”

“I hope I have an answer,” he replied. Then he picked up a screwdriver. His hands were all greasy-dirty. That’s so gross. 

“Did you hear about Harmony Hill Park?”

“What about it?”

“They’re closing it!”

He stopped working and looked at me again. Then he got that look he gets when his brain’s working. His “I’m-thinking” face.

“Yeah,” he said. “I do think I remember hearing about that.”

“Where from?”

“I’m pretty sure I read it in the newspaper. Maybe a few days ago. Or last week or something.”

I couldn’t believe it. He already knew the park—my park—was closing, and he didn’t tell me!

“AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME?!” I squawked.

He laughed. “I didn’t think it was all that important, kiddo.”

“You…I…you didn’t…what…” I sounded like a robot with a loose wire. “How…how could…you didn’t think it was IMPORTANT???”

“Take it easy, Izzy.”

“Daddy, that’s my park!”

“Of course it is, sweetheart.”

“I love it there!”

“I know you do.”

“No one is gonna close MY park!”

His smile disappeared. “Uh-oh,” he said. “Why am I getting an uneasy feeling about this?”

“I want to know who did it,” I told him.

“Who did what?”

“Who decided to close the park.”

“Now, Izzy, let’s be reasonable.”

I could feel smoke coming out of my ears. I hate when parents say things like, “Let’s be reasonable.” Or, “You better not shoot another rubber band at that kid next door who cries all the time.” Or, “No, you can’t kill your cousin for sticking his tongue out at you.” Adults can be so unfair.

“I want to know who did it, Daddy,” I said. “And if you won’t tell me, I’ll go on the computer and find out. I’ll ask ‘Uncle Google,’ as you always say.”

He took a deep breath, then let it out. “It was the mayor.”

“The who?”

“The mayor—the person who runs our town. Being a mayor is like being the President of the United States. Except you don’t run the whole country. You just run one town.”

“And who’s our mayor?”

“His name is Frank Pendleton.”

“I want to talk to him,” I said.

“Izzy, le—”

“Don’t say ‘let’s be reasonable,’ Daddy! Don’t say that!”

His shoulders sagged. This was the sign that he was giving up. I loved when he gave up.

“Okay, if you really want to do this—”

“I really do.”

“—then we can go to the town-hall meeting tomorrow night.”

“What’s a ‘town-hall meeting’?” I asked.

“It’s a way for people who live in a town to talk to the people who run it.”

“Really?”

“Really. You’ll see…”

My dad took another deep breath and let it out again. I could tell he was worried, but so what? There was a lot on the line here!

And Mayor Pendleton, wow—was he gonna get an earful from me.

Chapter Three—Mayor Pendleton Gets an Earful from Me

The town-hall meeting was held in this big room. About a million chairs had been set up. There was also a little stage at the front. It had one of those things you stand behind when you talk to a crowd. There was a microphone on it and everything.

My mom and dad both came with me. I haven’t told you about my mom yet. She’s a little shorter than my dad. And she wears glasses, just like he does. She has brown, wavy hair, and very pretty eyes. She works in a job called “human resources.” It has something to with hiring people. She has to fire them sometimes, too. I think I’d be really good at that part. I’ve asked her to let me help her with it, but she always says no.

The meeting started at seven o’clock. There were lots of people there by then. But no other kids, which I thought was weird.

It began with some woman talking about the town’s budget. I didn’t even know a “budget” was. Then my dad told me it was how much money the town had to spend on stuff. The woman talked about how much went to this and how much was spent on that. Wow, was that boring! O-M-G. And her voice…wow…. She sounded like she was half-asleep—which was how I felt after she was done! No wonder kids don’t come to these things!

The next speaker wasn’t any better. It was this guy talking about fixing something called “potholes.” My mom said they were holes in the road. I couldn’t understand why we were even talking about this. If there were holes in the road, then fix them! Why were we wasting time on such stupid things?!

I had to deal with another hour—that’s right, an hour—of more mega-boring stuff. Dog licenses…holiday decorations…changes to the town’s website…. I would’ve given anything to get my hands on my mom’s iPhone. At least I could text Lissa (I’ll tell you about her later) and see what she was doing. But my parents made me leave it home.

Then—FINALLY—Mayor Pendleton got up there.

He was smaller than I thought he’d be. He had light gray hair and a dark gray suit. He looked a little like my principal, Mr. Kearn. I see Mr. Kearn all the time. That’s what happens when you get sent to the office a lot.

Mayor Pendleton started by going over everything that had already been talked about. (Because when it’s all that boring, hey, why not talk about it even more?! Idiots…) Then he went into something he called “new business.” I rolled my eyes and yawned really loud. A bunch of people looked at me when I did that. Most of them didn’t seem too happy. My mom and dad, by the way, were two of those people.

I thought the “new business” stuff would include the closing of the park. I waited and waited. But Mayor Pendleton didn’t say anything about it! I could feel the volcano rumbling inside me again. An eruption was building…

Then came my chance.

“And I think that’s it for new business,” the mayor said. Then he asked, “Is there anything else we should talk about?”

My hand went up so fast it almost flew off my arm.

“I want to talk about something!” I shouted.

More people turned to look at me. Most of them were smiling. I really didn’t like that at all. It felt like they weren’t taking me seriously. Then I saw that the mayor was smiling, too.

Volcano rumbling…eruption building…

“And how can I help you this evening, young lady?” he asked me.

“I want to know why you’re closing the park!”

He looked confused. “The park?”

“Harmony Hill!” I said. “My park!”

“Oh!” The mayor laughed. “That park. Well, we need to build places for people to live, Miss…?”

“Marino, Isabelle Marino,” I told him. “And I know all about those ‘places to live.’ They’re called townhouses.”

Mayor Pendleton nodded. “That’s right. You are clearly a very smar—”

“But why do you need to build them there?!”

“Izzy,” I heard my mom mumble. She also tugged on my shirt sleeve. “Try to be a little nicer.”

“I am being a little nicer,” I whispered to her.

“We don’t have any place else to build them,” the mayor said.

“No other place in the whole town?!” I asked.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Have you looked everywhere?” I asked next. A whole bunch of people laughed at that. The mayor wasn’t one of them, though.

“Miss Marino, I think we’ve talked about this enough for one night.”

“Uh, no…” I said. “I don’t think we have!”

“Miss Marino!” the mayor said angrily.

Here’s what happened next—

The mayor yelled at me for being rude.

I yelled back at him for being rude.

He yelled at me some more.

I yelled at him some more.

And then—

Well—

Did you know you can get thrown out of a town-hall meeting for yelling too much?

Neither did I…

Chapter Four—I Go to the Great G-ma

My parents didn’t say one word during ride home. That’s never a good sign. And when we walked in the house, they both went off to do their own things. Mom went to the living room to read. Dad went into the basement to wash some laundry. They didn’t even look at me. Yeah…they were pretty mad.

But hey, so was I! The park was still going to go away! We hadn’t figured out how to stop this from happening! How come they weren’t also mad about that?! I’ll tell you why—because they didn’t care, that’s why!

But I knew someone who did…

I raced upstairs to the second floor. My parents’ bedroom is right at the top. The door next to it is my room. And the one next to that is G-ma’s.

I could tell she was in there because of the music. She always played it pretty loud. (This drives my mom and dad crazy, by the way.) It’s not the kind of music I listen to, but some of it isn’t too bad.

Her door was open just a little. That meant anyone could come in. But I knocked anyway, just to be polite. (Yes, I can be polite. It’s not easy, but I can…) I could see her in there through the crack. She was in her chair, playing something on her iPad. She didn’t hear me knocking because of the music. So I stuck my hand in and waved. Then she saw me and smiled.

“Izzy!” she said. “Hang on a second!”

She reached over and turned the music down on her stereo.

“Sorry about that. Please, come in! Here—” she patted the bed “—sit down, sit down.”

Her room was so cool. She didn’t have a lot of clothes or jewelry or makeup. But she did have all sorts of other things. There was this weird light on the table next to her bed. She called it a “lava lamp.” It had water in it, and these big drops of color floated around inside. She also had a poster with a huge peace symbol on it. And she had lots of candles. They smelled nice when she lit them. (That also drove my mom and dad crazy.)

I sat down, and she asked, “So how did it go tonight?”

“Well…” I told her everything that happened. She listened to me very carefully. (She always listened to me carefully. It was one of the things I loved about her.)

“…and then we were asked to leave,” I said at the end.

G-ma shook her head. “That’s too bad.”

“Yeah, and they’re still going to build those townhouses!”

“It really is ridiculous,” G-ma said. “They don’t have to build them where the park is.”

“That’s what I was saying!”

“It sounds like a lot of the stuff that happened in the 1960s. Back then, we were always fighting authority.”

“What’s ‘authority’?”

“Anyone who was in charge. Anyone who had power over us.” She smiled the way someone does when they think back to happy memories. “Those were good times. We were always trying to protect something. Old buildings, endangered animals, the forest…”

Listening to all of this got me very excited—and gave me an idea.

“What kind of stuff did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“To protect these things?”

“Oh, let’s see…. We marched in the streets and held up signs. Those were called ‘protest marches.’ Sometimes we’d do a ‘sit-in.’ That was where we sat in a place and wouldn’t move. I remember one school that fired their only African-American teacher. So a bunch of us sat on their front lawn until they hired her back. We also wrote lots of letters. Some were to people just like Mayor Pendleton. Others were to newspapers or radio stations.”

I’m sure all of these ideas were great back in the 1960s. But none of them seemed like they’d work now. What was I going to do? March around the streets of town by myself? Or sit in Harmony Hill Park for days? Or write a letter to the mayor?! He’d just throw it in the trash!

G-ma laughed. “Are you thinking of doing some protesting of your own, Izzy? Is that why you’re asking about all this?”

“Maybe. But I’m not sure any of it would help.”

“No, probably not any of those things,” she said. “But maybe we could try something else…”

“Ooo—like what?”

G-ma picked up her iPad and went to Google. After a little searching, she found the picture she wanted. She made it bigger on the screen. Then she showed it to me.

“How about this?” she asked.

My eyes grew into pingpong balls. My mouth dropped open.

“No way!”

“Yes way,” she said.

“We should so do that!”

“You think?”

“Yes, G-ma, yes! Let’s do it!” I was about ready to jump out of my skin. “You and me! Come on, it’ll be great!”

She smiled and looked at the picture for a moment. I think she was remembering all those great times from the 1960s, too.

“Okay, sure—I’m in! Let’s do it!”

I pumped my fist in the air. “YES!!!”

Then I thought about how mad my parents were gonna be about this. Like, about a hundred times madder than they already were.

Still wasn’t going to stop me from doing it, though…

Chapter Five—I Get in Some Serious Trouble

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Lissa asked. I’ve known her since forever. She’s my best friend in the world.

“Yes, it’s a very good idea,” I told her. “You’ll see. Right, G-ma?”

“Right,” G-ma said.

Lissa clicked the last lock into place. Then she stepped back to take a look. She must’ve thought G-ma and I were crazy. (She certainly looked like she thought this.)

We stood with our backs against the fence. Y’know, the one that they put around the park. We had our arms straight out, and there were chains wrapped around us. That’s right, chains. We were chained to the fence! And the chains had locks so they couldn’t be taken off. I made sure I was chained to the gate, too. That way, they couldn’t get inside!

And get this—I had a sign on me! I made it on the printer at home. Then I taped it to my shirt. It said—

No One’s

Gonna Close

My Park!

And the one on G-ma’s shirt said—

No One’s

Gonna Close

My Granddaughter’s

Park!

Seriously, how cool is that?!

“What time is it, Lis?” I asked. “I really can’t check my watch at the moment.”

“About ten minutes to seven.”

I smiled. “Perfect.”

It was Saturday. It was also the day they were gonna start taking stuff out of the park. That means the swings, the jungle gym, the slide…All the things I loved!

HA!

I don’t think so…

“Uh-oh,” Lissa said, looking down the street. “Here they come.”

“Excellent!” I replied. “Are you ready, G-ma?”

“Ready, Izzy! Bring ‘em on!”

“Awesome. Are you ready, Lis?”

She was still watching the trucks as they rumbled up the road. She looked scared half to death.

“Lis? Hey! Hel-loo?!”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure, I’m ready.”

“Take out that nice phone that you got for your birthday.”

“Okay….”

“The one that no one else in our grade has.”

“Right….”

“The one makes you think you’re such a big dea—”

“Izzy, shut your face!”

“Fine. Is it charged enough?”

She checked the screen.

“Yes, almost a hundred percent.”

“Sweet. Okay, get going…”

She started making a video, just like we planned.

The trucks squealed to a stop. Then a bunch of workers got out. One was the guy who was such a jerk the other day. He saw us and just stopped. Then he stared at us for awhile. He read the signs taped to our shirts. Then this look of…I don’t know, disgust came over his face.

I smiled as big as I could. “Remember me?”

“Yeah, the kid with the big mouth.”

“That’s what they call me!”

(Yes, I hate my nickname—but he didn’t need to know that.)

He came closer. “And who are you?” he asked G-ma.

“I’m her grandmother,” G-ma said proudly.

The guy put his hands on his hips. The other workers stayed back by the trucks. They clearly didn’t know what to do.

Then, to Lissa, he asked, “And you?”

“I’m her best friend,” she replied, pointing to me.

“And let me guess,” the guy said. “You’re recording this, right? For Facebook or something?”

“That’s right!” I answered for her. “And wherever else we want to put it! Maybe we’ll give it to a TV station. So don’t try anything stupid!”

“Oh, don’t worry,” the guy said. “I won’t do anything stupid. I promise you that.”

“Good. Well, since you can’t do anything today, you might as well all go home!” I made sure to yell so the other workers could hear me.

The guy put a hand up. He was wearing this old, beat-up glove.

“No,” he said, “they’re not going anywhere. I’m the foreman of this project.”

I didn’t really know what “foreman” meant. But since he was obviously in charge, I figured it meant “boss.”

“Yeah?” I asked. “So?”

“So the foreman has one job above all others. And do you know what that is?”

“To act like a complete loser?”

“No—to get things done!”

He took out his phone and made a call to someone. I don’t know who it was because he walked away. I couldn’t hear what him talking.

When he was done, he came back. He crossed his arms, and his smile was even bigger than mine.

“Umm, okay, so who did you call?” I asked. I didn’t want to sound nervous. But I couldn’t help it.

“Oh, you’ll see…” he said. Then he looked back down the road. So did the other workers. When I looked up at G-ma, I saw that she was watching the road, too. And so was Lissa.

What’s going on here? I thought.

A few minutes later, the foreman turned back to me.

“Party’s over, young lady!” he said.

Then I saw them—two cars, driving up fast. And they weren’t just any ol’ cars.

They were police cars.

Oh boy…

Chapter Six—I Have an Idea!

I cried, okay? I got home, went straight up to my room, and cried. I can’t believe I’m even telling you that.

After the police came, they called my parents. G-ma begged them not to, but of course they did anyway. My parents started yelling at me the moment they got there. They yelled at G-ma, too! Plus, the worker guys were laughing at us the whole time. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Anyway, I went up to my room, slammed the door shut, and fell onto the bed. I must’ve cried about ten gallons. (I didn’t even know I had that much water inside!) I hated everybody in the world at that moment. I hated my mom, my dad, my friends, my teachers…everybody.

When I finally stopped crying—about a hundred hours later—I just lay there. I was all sniffly and stuff. Y’know, the gross way you are after you’ve cried. (The pillow was all wet and snot-slimy…ugh.)

Then a funny thing happened. Because I’d cried so much, I didn’t really feel mad anymore. It was like I cried it all out or something. It was weird, not being mad at somebody. 

Then I started hearing The Voice in my head—

All you’ve been doing is yelling and screaming. And what has it gotten you?

“Oh no,” I said out loud. “Not you again…”

Everyone’s mad at you or laughing at you. You’re in big trouble with your parents. And worst of all, what about the park? It’s still going to disappear, right? You haven’t stopped that from happening.

“Shut up,” I told it. I’d been hearing it a lot lately. I still have no idea where it came from. It was never there when I was little.

No, it went on. YOU shut up. Just shut up and listen…

I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”

You need to THINK about what to do. Not get all mad and stuff. Just THINK about it.

“I have been thinking!”

No, you’ve been acting like a BABY.

“I—”I started to say. Then my mouth snapped shut again.

There, that’s better, The Voice told me. Okay, so…what’s the problem here?

“The problem is that they’re going to tear down the park. My park!”

No, the voice said. That’s not the problem. That’s happening BECAUSE of the problem. What’s ACTUALLY the problem???

“What do you mean?”

WHY are they tearing the park down?

“To build those stupid townhouses.”

And why can’t they build the stupid townhouses somewhere ELSE?

“Because there isn’t any place else!” I said. “That’s what the mayor told us!”

But you know that’s not true, right?

“Whaddaya mean?”

There are lots of other places they could build the townhouses.

I thought about this for a minute. “Hey, you’re right…there are other places where they could do it! There’s that empty lot over by Michelle’s house. And that other one by the pond. And there are two on Hudson Avenue!”

So…

“So…what?”

Who do you know who can help with this?

“I don’t know, I’m just a kid! Who would I know that has anything to do with land and empty lots and stuff like th—”

Then it hit me. Like a lightning bolt out of a clear sky, it hit me!

“Yes!” I said as happiness filled up inside me. “YES!!!”

I ran out of the room.

Chapter Seven—I Have Another Idea!

His name was Carl Greene. He lived a few blocks away from us. I have no idea how my parents knew him. He was about a hundred and eighty five years old or something. And he was rich. I’m talking wow kind of rich. I live in a nice house, but Mr. Greene’s house…you should see it some time. It’s got those big columns in the front, like they had in Rome or wherever.

My mom used to visit him once in awhile. She said he was lonely (he lived by himself) and liked to have visitors. She’d usually take me with her. Mr. Greene was always nice to me. He gave me candy and stuff. He also let me sit and plonk away on his piano. I didn’t really know how to play, but he didn’t seem to care. He was cool like that.

Anyway, I remembered once that he told my mom he owned all this land in our town. I guess that’s how he got rich. I told my mom maybe he could help save the park. She actually thought that was a good idea. (She was still mad at me, though, of course.) So she called Mr. Greene, and he said we could come over.

He took us into his living room, and we all sat down.  

“So what can I help you with today?” he asked.

“Well, there’s a park right by my house,” I said.

“Harmony Hill.”  

“Yes, that’s right.”

“The one they’re going to tear down.”

“You…you know about that?!”

He nodded. “I do. They’re going to put townhouses there.”

“That’s right!” I said. “But they can’t do that! That’s my park!”

Mr. Greene laughed. “Is it now? Then shouldn’t it be called ‘Isabella Marino Park’?”

“Hey, that’s a great idea!”

He laughed some more. “I had a feeling you’d think so.”

“Izzy wants to know—” my mom cut in “—if there’s anything we can do. Anything to stop the park from being torn down.”

Mr. Greene shrugged. “I tried to give the town Lot 232.”

I had no idea what that meant.

“I have no idea what that means,” I said.

“The land in a town is divided into what are called lots,” he told me, “And every lot has a number. The one where your house was built, for example, is Lot 916.”

“Wow,” my mom and I said at the same time. Then I added, “Do you know the number of every lot?”

“I do. My great-grandfather owned most of the land around here. That was a very long time ago. Then he sold some. Then my grandfather sold some. Then my father. And now I have what’s left. I know the land in this town like I know my own face.”

“That’s so cool,” I said. My brain was spinning from the idea of owning enough land to build a town on. “So what about Lot 232?”

“It’s over by the shopping center. A perfect place to build townhouses. Perfect.”

“And you wanted to give it to the town?” my mom asked. “For free?”

“Yes. But our mayor wouldn’t take it.”

“He what?!” I blurted out.

My mom reached over and patted my knee. “Izzy—”

“No, no,” Mr. Greene said. “The young lady is right to feel that way.”

“Why wouldn’t he take it?” I asked.

Mr. Greene smiled. “Ready for this? He wanted to name the townhouses after himself.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, very serious.”

“He wanted to name them ‘The Mayor Doofus Townhouses’?!”

“IZZY!” my mom howled.

But Mr. Greene wasn’t mad at all. In fact, he leaned his head back and laughed really loud.

“Oh Izzy,” he said. “You are too funny!”

I gave my mom a snotty little look. I could tell she didn’t know what to say after that. (Aren’t those moments just the best?)

“But yes,” Mr. Greene went on. “He wanted to name them ‘The Frank Pendleton Townhouses.’ Plus, he was planning to do it in a sneaky way, without telling me. But I found out about it, and that’s when I stopped the deal. I wasn’t going to give the land to them so he could do that.”

“But isn’t he going to name them that anyway?” I asked. “After they’re built where the park is?”

“The town already owns that land,” Mr. Greene said. “They can do what they want with it.”

Those words fell on me like a hard, cold rain.

They can do what they want with it…

“I’m sorry, Izzy,” Mr. Greene said. “I don’t want to see the ‘Isabella Marino Park’ torn down, either. But I don’t know what else to do.”

I felt so many different emotions at that moment. I was angry, of course. (I’m pretty much always angry, as you know by now.) I wanted to yell and scream and kick and scratch. And I was sad. Like, stay-in-my-room-and-never-come-out kind of sad.

Then I heard The Voice again—

So what are you going to do? it asked. Yelling and screaming and hiding in your room…That doesn’t sound like it’ll save the park. So what will?

I ignored all those emotions and just thought. And I thought hard.

And then it came to me. Just like before, the idea was suddenly there!

“I do!” I said. “I know what we can do!”

“And what’s that?” Mr. Greene asked.

So I told him…and he loved the idea! No kidding, he really did!

My mom did, too, if you can believe it!

Wow…I was really on a roll. 

Chapter Eight—I Blow the Doors Off the Place

The town-hall meeting was full again. There wasn’t an empty seat in the whole room. And that exactly what I wanted! Lots of people there to hear what I was going to say!

The mayor started with all the normal, boring stuff, just like last time. That went on for about an hour. Which felt more like a week. Or a year.

Then the mayor said, “Okay, now, onto the business of Harmony Hill Park. We will begin clearing the land tomorrow. That means taking out the swings and the slides and whatnot.”

A shiver went down my spine at the thought of this.

“And then,” he went on, “we can begin building the new townhouses. Does anyone have any questions or comments?”

I couldn’t get my hand up fast enough. And to make sure he saw me, I stood on my chair.

As soon as the mayor looked in my direction, he smiled.

“Ah yes, Miss Marino,” he said, all sassy and everything. “Somehow I just knew you’d be here.”

“That’s right,” I replied. “I’m here!”

Every head in the room turned toward us.

“And what would you like to say about the park this time?” he asked. “Oh, and I’ll ask you to keep your voice down to a low roar.”

A few people laughed at this snotty remark, but I didn’t care. I smiled right back at him.

“Oh, I won’t be yelling tonight,” I said.

“That’s lovely to hear,” he replied.

“And I’m sorry if I was mean to you last time.”

I wasn’t planning on saying this. But then G-ma explained to me that I’d get a lot farther with the mayor if I was nice to him.

“I appreciate that,” he said. 

“Because I really don’t have to be,” I told him.

“No?”

“No, sir. I have just one question for you.”

“And that is?”

“How come you don’t build the townhouses on Lot 232?”

The mayor’s smile just fell. Then he turned white, like he’d just seen a ghost or something.

“Wha…what did you say?”

“Lot 232,” I said again. “It’s right there by the shopping center. It’s also a short walk from the train, and only a mile from the mall. That sounds much better than where the park is, doesn’t it?”

“How could you possibly know all that?” he asked. Seriously, you should’ve seen the look on his face…

“Someone told me, Mr. Mayor.”

“And who was that?”

“Me!” a deep voice called out. Then Mr. Greene stood up. He was sitting right by us. I guess the mayor never noticed him.

“Carl…”

“Yes, Frank, that’s right. Now go on, tell everyone here why you wouldn’t take Lot 232 from me. I was going to give it to the town! But you decided you wanted to tear down that park instead. Why would that be? I think these good people have a right to know.”

If I smiled any bigger, I think my face would’ve cracked.

“Well, um…I…um…”

I didn’t start laughing, but I wanted to.

“Well, you see,” the mayor went on, “what we have here is a situation where…we really need to, um….”

“Frank,” Mr. Greene said. I could tell he was getting a little mad. “Don’t even try to talk your way out of it. If you don’t tell them, then I will.”

The mayor looked like he wanted to go babbling for a moment. Then his head drooped forward.

“Okay, fine,” he said. “I didn’t want the townhouses built there because…”

Everyone in the room seemed to lean forward a little bit. They all wanted to hear this.

“…because he wouldn’t let me name them after myself.”

Everyone gasped. Then a few people actually booed. One old woman yelled, “Shame on you, Frank!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” the mayor said. “I…I felt like I’d done a lot for this town over the years! I felt like it would be okay!”

There was lots of noise in the room then. People talking, more people booing. It was getting ugly—and kind of fun!

Then Mr. Greene said loudly, “Okay, everyone, please settle down!”

And they all did. It was amazing! Everyone clearly knew who he was.

“Frank,” Mr. Greene said, “it’s true. You have done a lot for this town. I’ve lived here all my life. And I can honestly say you’re one of the best mayors we’ve ever had. But why didn’t you just ask me about the name thing first?”

“I didn’t think you’d say yes,” Mayor Pendleton said. He looked like a little boy now. A little boy who just got scolded by his mother. “You and your family have done so much for this town, too. I just…didn’t think you’d say yes.”

Mr. Greene didn’t say anything back right away. And for a long moment, the room was really quiet. But that was good, because I had another idea. Yes—another one!

“I know what we can do!” I said.

“What’s that, Izzy?” Mr. Greene asked.

“Build the townhouses on Lot 232 and name them after both of you! Y’know, use both names—Greene and Pendleton.”

The noise in the room started rising again. But it was good noise, y’know? No one said, “What a stupid idea!” Or, “Sit down and shut up, you little brat!” (I get that second one a lot, by the way.)

The mayor and Mr. Greene were looking at each other. And they were both nodding.

“Sounds good to me, Carl,” the mayor said. “What do you think?”

Mr. Greene smiled. “I think it sounds like a plan.”

“Then a plan it is!” the mayor said.

Everyone in the room started clapping. A few people even stood up and patted me on the back. And my parents and my G-ma—wow—they looked so proud of me! What a night!

“Now,” the mayor said after the clapping stopped. “I guess the next question is, whose name should come first? I’m thinking mine—Pendleton and Greene Townhouses.”

“No, no,” Mr. Greene said. “It should be mine—Greene and Pendleton.”

“No,” the mayor said, this time more firmly. “Mine.”

“No,” Mr. Greene said. “Mine.”

Wow…seriously?!

Chapter Nine—I Can’t Believe My Ears

Chapter Nine—I Can’t Believe My Ears

I was playing in the park—my park!—the very next day. G-ma was reading a book. It was one of those perfect days, all warm and sunny. The workers were taking the fence down. I couldn’t help smiling as I watched them.

Then the foreman came over to me.

“I heard about what happened last night,” he said. “At the town-hall meeting.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t look too happy about it. That made me very nervous.

Then he smiled. “You got some guts, kid,” he told me. “Don’t ever lose ‘em. Sometimes you gotta be tough in this world. If you don’t, the world’ll be tough on you.”

I couldn’t help smiling back.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll try to remember that.”

“I don’t think you’ll have too much trouble remembering,” he replied. Then he shook my hand. “Take it easy, Izzy Jeen the Big-Mouth Queen.”

“Hey! How do you know my nickn—”

“One of the guys who works with me has a daughter in your school. She knows all about you.”

I laughed. “Okay, well, you take it easy, too.”

I sat on one of the swings and thought about what he’d said. He was right—you just had to be tough about some things. But that didn’t mean you needed to lose your cool all the time. I’d been learning about that lately. I used to get mad a lot. But now I try to think about things more. That’s what worked this time. I wouldn’t have been sitting in that swing if I hadn’t!

Yeah, I was feeling pretty darn proud of myself.

A few minutes later, Lissa came running down the street. And she looked pretty upset about something.

“Izzy! Izzy!” she yelled.

“What’s wrong, Lis?”

She got to me and stopped. Then she put her hands on her knees while she caught her breath.

“Your…your bi—”

“Huh?”

She put a finger up—hang on a second. She was panting like a dog.

“Your…your bike,” she said finally.

“What about it?”

She looked straight at me, and I could see fear in her eyes.

Uh-oh, I thought, this can’t be good.

“It’s been stolen,” she told me.

I didn’t say anything, didn’t do anything, didn’t even make a face. I just stood there, trying to get my brain around this.

“My bike?!”

She nodded. “Yeah, your bike. I was just walking by your house, and your mom told me. She said she saw it in the yard this morning, and then it was gone.”

“My bike….” I said again, real quietly. Almost like a whisper. “Someone…stole…my…bike.”

“Yeah.”

“My bike….”

“That’s right.” Lissa put her hands up. “Now, Izzy, I’m sure you’re feeling real mad right now. Not just normal mad, but mad the way…well, the way you get sometimes. Umm…maybe even a lot of the time. But just try to remember—”

I didn’t hear the rest of what she said. It was like she wasn’t there anymore. All I could feel was that volcano again, rumbling inside me, building up to an eruption.

I started marching back toward my house. Lissa was trailing behind, still talking. And I still wasn’t listening. We were past all that now. I didn’t need to know what the problem was. I needed to know what to do about it. And then—maybe most important of all—I needed to figure out who. Who took my bike…where did they take it…and why? Not ‘why did they take it,’ but ‘why would they be that stupid?’ I was going to find that out. Then I was going to make their life miserable in the way that only I can. 

Lissa was worried about me being mad? Yeah, well, of course I was mad. I mean, come on….

When am I not?