Like Pickle Juice on a Cookie by Julie Sternberg Page A

music?”
    My dad looked surprised.
    â€œSure,” he said.
    So my dad took Agnes to look through our music.
    I got my best stationery
    and I sharpened a pencil.
    Then I sat down at the kitchen table.
    And I wrote a letter to Bibi.
    I wrote:

    Yesterday Mom bought me new pants.
    So I will have them for school.
    They’re too big.
    Nobody here can sew except for you.
    And you left.
    So I have to wear a belt.
    Here is a picture of me in my too-big pants.
    And here is a picture of calm Agnes on our sofa.

    I miss you every single day. I really do.
    And I love you a million trillion.
    Love,
    Eleanor
    I didn’t want Agnes to see my letter.
    Because it was private.
    And she might feel funny.
    Since I wrote about her.
    So I folded it up right away
    and pushed it in an envelope
    and wrote my return address in the corner.
    Just like we did in second grade.
    Then I went to find my dad,
    to get Bibi’s address.
    He was standing with Agnes by the stereo.
    They were singing a Beatles song.

    My dad does not sing very well.
    But Agnes from upstairs sounded beautiful.
    My dad smiled at me.
    â€œWant to sing with us?” he asked.
    â€œNo thanks,” I said.
    â€œI need Bibi’s address.”
    So my dad got Bibi’s address
    while Agnes sang.
    I liked listening to Agnes sing.
    But I was ready for her to go home.
    Finally,
    as she went upstairs with her mom,
    I went downstairs with my dad.
    And I mailed my letter to Bibi.

As soon as my mom came home I told her,
    â€œI wrote a letter to Bibi.”
    â€œThat’s nice,” she said.
    But I could tell she wasn’t really listening.
    She sat down on the couch
    and patted the space next to her.
    So I sat down beside her.
    â€œI have to go back to work soon,” she said.
    â€œWe need to find someone to help us.
    Someone to be with you during the daytime
    until the end of summer
    and then pick you up from school
    when third grade starts.”
    â€œI don’t want a new babysitter,” I said.
    â€œI understand that,” my mom said.
    â€œI really do.
    But we don’t have a choice.
    Your dad and I both work.”
    â€œI could stay by myself,” I said.
    â€œNo,” my mom said.
    â€œYou really couldn’t.”
    I knew that.
    But still.
    â€œI won’t like anyone else,” I said.
    â€œI understand,” my mom said.
    â€œNo one in the world
    is as good as Bibi,” I said.
    â€œI know,” my mom said.
    â€œBut maybe we can find someone
    who is not too terrible.
    I heard about someone named Natalie.

    Maybe we could try her out.”
    â€œDo we have to?” I asked.
    â€œWe have to,” my mom said.
    â€œFine,” I said.
    But I didn’t like it.

Natalie came over that very afternoon.
    â€œYou keep inviting people without asking me,”
    I told my dad.
    But he wasn’t listening.
    He was opening the door for Natalie.
    Natalie didn’t look anything like Bibi.
    She looked much younger.
    She had a ponytail.
    Bibi did not have a ponytail.
    Natalie wore jeans.
    Bibi never wore jeans.
    Natalie smiled at me.
    I smiled back a little.

    But not a lot.
    â€œYou must be Eleanor,” Natalie said.
    â€œYes,” I said.
    Then I said,
    â€œDon’t ever call me Ellie. Please.”
    Because Bibi likes to call me Ellie.
    â€œI won’t,” Natalie said.
    â€œIf you don’t want me to.
    I promise.”
    Then my dad said,
    â€œWhy don’t you show Natalie your board games?”
    So I showed Natalie our board games.
    â€œI need to warn you about something,” she said.
    She looked very serious.
    â€œI’m very good at board games,” she said.
    â€œYou might be able to beat me.
    But it will be hard.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” I said.
    â€œI’m good, too.”
    I am good at board games.
    Bibi says she used to let me win,
    but now I win all by myself.
    I even win the games that are just about luck
    and don’t take any