Ivy and Bean Bound to Be Bad
Annie Barrows
IVY + BEAN
BOOK 5
IVY + BEAN BOOK 1
“The deliciousness is in the details here, with both girls drawn distinctly and with flair.” —Booklist, starred review
“. . . illustrations deftly capture the girls’ personalities and the tale’s humor. . . . Barrows’s narrative brims with sprightly dialogue.” —Publishers Weekly, starred review
“Readers are bound to embrace this spunky twosome.” —Kirkus Reviews
IVY + BEAN AND THE GHOST THAT HAD TO GO BOOK 2
“The series’ strong suits are humor and the spot-on take on relationships.” —Booklist
“This story defies expectations of what an early chapter book can be.” — School Library Journal
IVY + BEAN BREAK THE FOSSIL RECORD BOOK 3
“This is a great chapter book for students who have recently crossed the independent reader bridge.” —School Library Journal
“Just right.” —Kirkus Reviews
IVY + BEAN TAKE CARE OF THE BABYSITTER 4
“Text and illustrations in this entry are as fine a match as Ivy and Bean, each offering different strengths that supposrt each other infinitely well.” —Horn Book
“. . . Ivy and Bean are irresistible.” — Kirkus Reviews, starred review
IVY + BEAN
BOUND TO BE BAD
BOOK 5
written by annie barrows + illustrated by sophie blackall
To Sally, who is nothing at all like Nancy. —A. B.
For Sarah, Angus, and Anna, who are never, ever bad. —S. B.
First paperback edition published in 2009 by Chronicle Books LLC.
Text © 2008 by Annie Barrows.
Illustrations © 2008 by Sophie Blackall.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.
Butterfinger is a registered trademark of Société des Produits Néstlé S.A.
M&M’s is a registered trademark of Mars, Inc.
Milk Duds is a registered trademark of The Hershey Company.
Tootsie Roll is a registered trademark of Tootsie Roll Industries, Inc.
The illustrations in this book were rendered in Chinese ink.
eISBN 978-0-8118-7655-1
The Library of Congress has catalogued the hardcover edition as follows:
Barrows, Annie.
Ivy and Bean bound to be bad / by Annie Barrows ; illustrated by Sophie Blackall.
p. cm. — (Ivy and Bean ; bk. 5)
Summary: Best friends Ivy and Bean learn that being very good, or very bad, can be a real
challenge when they set out to become so pure of heart that birds and animals follow them.
ISBN 978-0-8118-6265-3
[1. Behavior—Fiction. 2. Human–animal relationships—Fiction. 3. Neighbors—Fiction. 4. Family life—Fiction.] I. Blackall, Sophie, ill.
II. Title. III. Series.
PZ7.B27576Iwc 2008
[Fic]—dc22
2008005280
Chronicle Books LLC
680 Second Street, San Francisco, California 94107
www.chroniclekids.com
CONTENTS
A PAIN IN THE KAZOO
TOUGH COOKIES
BIRD BRAINS
A CRUMMY PLAN
A GOOD BAD IDEA
THE WORST WORD IN THE WORLD
BEAN, QUEEN OF BAD
FROM BAD TO WORSE
BEAN OVERBOARD!
THE REVENGE OF DINO
GOOD AND SOGGY
A PAIN IN THE KAZOO
Check. Bean’s mom was reading the paper.
Check. Bean’s dad was reading the paper.
Check. Nancy was reading the funnies.
Bean picked up her plate and licked the streaks of leftover syrup.
“Bean’s licking her plate,” said Nancy.
“Stop it, Bean,” said Bean’s mom without even looking up from the paper.
Bean sat on her hands and stared at her plate with her lips shut tight. Then, suddenly, her tongue shot out of her mouth and her head swooped down to her plate. “I can’t help it,” she said, licking. “There’s a magnetic force pulling my tongue out of my mouth.”
Bean’s family looked at her like she was a bug. An ugly bug.
“That’s disgusting,” said Nancy.
“Bean, please . . .” said her mother.
“Cut it out,” said her father.
“I can’t!” slurped Bean. “The force is too strong!”
Her father took her plate away. Bean slumped against the back of her chair. “Thanks, dude. I owe you one.”
“Don’t call me dude,” said her dad. “Go do the dishes.”
“What?! It’s Nancy’s turn!” yelped Bean.
“It was Nancy’s turn until you licked your plate. Now it’s your turn,” said her dad.
“That’s totally unfair!” huffed Bean. “I couldn’t help it! Haven’t you ever heard of forces beyond your control?”
“Yes, I have,” said her father. “Forces beyond your control are going to make you do the dishes.”
“What am I, Cinderbean?” Bean said. “What about my rights?”
Slowly her dad lowered his newspaper and looked at her. “Think about whether you’re making a good choice or a bad choice, Bean.”
There was a pause.
“I guess I’ll go do the dishes.” Bean clomped into the kitchen.
“Bean, you didn’t see my pink yarn, did you?”
Oops. Bean tried to roll behind the couch, but Nancy saw her.
“Bean! Do you have my pink yarn?”
“No,” said Bean. That was true. She didn’t have it. She would never have it again.
Nancy looked at her, slitty-eyed. “Do you know where it is?”
“No.” Who knew where it was by now?
Nancy’s eyes got even slittier. “Have you seen it recently?”
“Recently?”
“Mom! Bean took my yarn!”
Before she knew it, Bean was having to look around her room for her money. (She changed hiding places so often that it was hard to remember where she kept it, exactly.) She had to give Nancy seven dollars to buy new yarn. Seven dollars! Now she only had two dollars and some coins left.
And the yarn hadn’t even worked. Bean had fallen out of the tree anyway.
Bean’s mom was under her desk. She was doing something with wires, and Bean could tell she wasn’t having much fun because she kept saying, “Oh, for crying out loud!” and “Gee-Zoo Pete!”
“Hi, Mom,” said Bean into the crack between the desk and the wall.
“Oh. Hi,” said her mom. “Hold on to this cord a sec, will you?” She shoved a black wire up through the crack.
Bean didn’t take it. “Only if you pay me.”
“What?”
“Only if you pay me.”
There was a silence. Then Bean’s mom began to back out from under her desk.
Bean started to have a bad feeling. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I’ll hold the cord for free.”
But now her mom was all the way out. Now she was standing. Now she was glaring. “Did I hear you say that you would help me only if I paid you?” she asked.
“It was a joke,” said Bean. “Just kidding. Ha.”
Her mom was still glaring. “What do you think I’m thinking, Bean?”
Bean sighed. “I think you’re thinking I’m a pain in the kazoo.”
“Right. So what might be a good thing for you to do?”
Bean thought. “Eat only bread and water for a week?”
“Try again,” said her mom.
“Give you and Daddy and Nancy each a big wet kiss?�
�
Her mother coughed. “Maybe later. Try again.”
“Go outside and play?”
“Bingo.”
TOUGH COOKIES
Bean flopped down on her front steps. Yikes. Even though it was still morning, the wood was already hot from the sun. Bean’s head was sweating under her hair. She wished she hadn’t popped her blow-up pool. Her mom had said that jumping around a blow-up swimming pool on a pogo stick would pop it. Bean had said it wouldn’t. Her mom had been right. Bean had been wrong.
Bean rested her chin in her hands and thought about that. She had popped her blowup pool. She had been a disgusting bug at breakfast. She had used up Nancy’s yarn. And she had made her mom mad. What if I am a pain in the kazoo, she thought. What if that’s just how I am? What if I’m worse than all the other people in the world?
Bean jumped up. She wanted to play with someone. Right this minute. She looked around Pancake Court. Mostly everyone was still inside, but there was one kid out. It was Katy, who was six years old and lived at the other end of Pancake Court. She was walking along, pushing a little pink doll stroller in front of her.
“Hiya, Katy,” called Bean. “You want to play?”
Katy stopped in front of Bean’s house. She looked at Bean. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” asked Bean.
“I have to stay clean.” Katy was very clean. Her pink dress was clean, and even her white sandals were clean.
“How come?” Bean asked.
“We’re going out for dinner tonight,” said Katy.
“Your mom’s making you wear your fancy stuff all day?” Bean’s mom would never try that.
“She’s not making me,” said Katy. “I like this dress because then we’re twins.” She pointed to her doll.
It was true. The doll and Katy were wearing the same pink dress.
Bean felt big and dirty. “We could play a clean game.”
Katy thought for a minute. “House?”
Bean hated House. “What about Starving Orphans?”
Katy folded her arms. “House.”
Boy, Katy was a tough cookie. “Fine. House.”
Katy was the mother. Her doll was the older sister. Bean was the baby. Katy was making cookies. The doll was doing her homework. “Now you eat the cookie dough, and I give you a time-out,” said Katy to Bean.
Fine. Bean lunged toward Katy and snatched her imaginary bowl of dough. “Gimme that!” she hollered and threw herself under the camellia bush to gobble it up.
“Oh, you’re a bad girl!” scolded Katy. “You get a time-out!”
“Now I’m barfing on your shoes because I ate all that cookie dough,” said Bean, crawling toward Katy.
“Eew, no!” squealed Katy, jumping away.
“Okay,” said Bean. “I’m barfing on my sister’s homework.”
Katy grabbed the doll. “That’s gross, Bean. I don’t want to play that.”
“Okay, let’s say I have to go to the hospital and get my stomach pumped.” Bean made a sound like a siren.
Katy looked down at Bean. “No,” she said firmly. “You’re not doing any of that. You’re in a time-out.”
Bean looked up at Katy. This game was too much like life. When she and Ivy played House, the house burned down. Bean wished she were playing with Ivy. “All right. I’m in a time-out. See you later.” She got up and started toward the sidewalk.
“Where are you going?” asked Katy.
“Ivy’s. My time-out is at Ivy’s,” said Bean. “Bye.”
BIRD BRAINS
“IIIII-VEEE!” Bean shouted into Ivy’s mail slot. “Yoooooo-hooo!”
“Hello, Bean,” said Ivy’s mom, opening the front door. “Care for a slice of cucumber?” She was holding a plate of them.
Bean wanted to say, Are you nuts? But she knew that wasn’t polite. “No thank you,” she said. “Is Ivy home?”
“She’s out in the yard,” said Ivy’s mom. “Go on back.”
Bean walked down the path beside Ivy’s house and opened the gate that led to the backyard. Ivy’s yard didn’t have a trampoline like Bean’s, but it did have big rocks and a perfectly round puddle that Ivy called a pond even though she had to fill it with the hose. Ivy was standing still in the middle of the long, weedy grass. Her arms were raised to the sky, and she had a big smile on her face.
“Are you trying to fly?” called Bean.
Ivy turned to Bean and smiled even bigger, but she didn’t move. “Hi,” she whispered.
“Wave your arms,” advised Bean.
Ivy smiled so hard her eyeballs bulged out.
“What the heck are you doing?” Bean asked.
“I’m trying to be good,” whispered Ivy.
“What?” yelled Bean. She waded through the weedy grass.
“I’m trying to be good,” Ivy whispered again.
“Why do you have to be so quiet about it?” Now Bean was whispering, too.
“Because I don’t want to scare the birds away. I’m trying to be so good that birds land on my fingers and wolves come out of the woods and follow me down the street,” Ivy explained.
Bean stared. “Why would being good make birds land on your fingers and wolves do whatever you just said?”
“I found out about it yesterday. If you’re super-good and pure of heart, animals think you’re one of them and they love you and follow you around.”
Ivy’s arms were trembling. She must have been holding them up for a while. “Are you sure about this?” asked Bean.
“Positive. I saw it in a picture. There was this guy with birds flying all around him and a wolf licking his foot. My mom said this guy was so good that wild beasts talked to him and birds swarmed after him.”
“I don’t get it. Why did the birds swarm after him?”
“Because his heart was so pure and kind that they saw that he was the same as an animal on the inside. They loved him,” Ivy said.
Bean thought about that. “Like Snow White, you mean?” Hadn’t the birds helped Snow White make a pie?
Ivy made a face. “Snow White wasn’t good. She was a goonball. Everyone knows you’re not supposed to eat stuff you get from strangers.”
“But the birds liked her,” said Bean.
“Maybe the birds felt sorry for her, but they didn’t think she was one of them,” said Ivy. “Anyway, I don’t want to be like Snow White. I want to be like the guy in the picture. I want a wolf to follow me because I’m pure of heart.”
A wolf. Bean pictured a shaggy wolf walking beside her while a bird rested on her shoulder. Her mom and dad would be scared half to death, but Bean would say, “The wolf won’t hurt you. He’s my friend.” Then the wolf and Bean would give each other long, understanding looks. And then Bean’s mom and dad would feel rotten because they hadn’t realized that Bean was so pure of heart. They had thought she was a pain. Bean smiled at Ivy. “A wolf would be pretty cool.”
“Yeah.” Ivy smiled dreamily.
“We could share him,” said Bean.
“Sure we could,” said Ivy. “That’s what good people do. They share.”
“He doesn’t even have to lick my foot,” said Bean. “It’s fine if he just follows me around.”
“I know,” said Ivy. “Me, too.” She raised her arms again. “But I’m starting with birds. I think they’ll be easier to get than a wolf. You know,” she whispered, “they’re not so smart.” She looked up and smiled at the sky. “La-la-la,” she sang sweetly.
“I don’t see any birds,” said Bean, glancing up.
“Me neither,” said Ivy. “Maybe they’re hiding in the trees.”
Bean watched her for another moment. “I like birds, too,” she said in a loud voice. “Almost as much as wolves.” She held her hands upward. “How do you do it?”
“What?”
“Be so good that a bird lands on you?”
“You can’t think about yourself. You have to think nice thoughts about other people,” said Ivy.
Bean
concentrated. She thought, I love you, Mom. I love you, Dad. Even though you’re totally unfair. She thought of Nancy. Oh, I guess I love you, too, Nancy. Then she thought of Nancy saying, “Seven-year-olds aren’t allowed to go to horse camp, so HA!” and “Isn’t it past Bean’s bedtime, Mom?” Stupid Nancy, I hope you fall off a horse. Oops.
“Boy, this is harder than it looks,” she said to Ivy. “I can think nice thoughts about my mom and dad, but that’s it.”
“Oh, your mom and dad are too easy. You aren’t good enough if you just think nice thoughts about your mom and dad. You have to think nice thoughts about mean people.”
“Holy moly, I can’t even think nice thoughts about Nancy, and she’s my sister.”
“I’m thinking nice thoughts about Crummy Matt,” Ivy announced.
“No way!” said Bean.
Crummy Matt was the meanest kid Bean knew. He was so mean he told little kids that chocolate milk was brown because it had poop in it. He was so mean that he kicked kickballs onto the school roof on purpose, so no one else could play with them. He was so mean he threw rocks at cats.
“Uh-huh,” said Ivy proudly. “I am.”
“There’s nothing nice to think about Crummy Matt,” said Bean.
“I’m thinking that I hope he stops being so crummy,” said Ivy. “Hey—it’s working!”
A little brown bird was hopping near Ivy’s pond. Boing, boing, boing.
Ivy held her breath.
“Here, birdie!” squeaked Bean.
The bird flew away.
Ivy sighed. “Now I have to start all over again.”
“Sorry,” said Bean.
Ivy smiled in a pure-of-heart way at Bean. “Now I’m thinking nice thoughts about you,” she said.
Bean didn’t like the sound of that.
A CRUMMY PLAN
