CHAPTER ONE
Dear Kit Smithers,
My name is Lizzie Peterson, and I am in fourth grade. I am writing to you because you are my favorite author. Your books are the best. I have read almost all of them exsept
Islanders,
but my favorite one is
Mountain Girl.
It’s so exciting. My favorite part is when Sunny thinks she hears a bear in the woods.
I can tell that you like dogs because you put dogs in all your books and they always seem like real dogs, not book dogs, if you know what I mean. I love dogs, espeshally puppies. I have a puppy named Buddy. He is the cutest. My family even fosters puppies. That means we take careof puppies who need homes, just until we can find each one the perfect forever family.
My family is:
— my dad, who is a firefighter
— my mom, who is a writter like you, only she’s a newspaper reporter
— my younger brother Charles (annoying)
— my youngest brother, the Bean (real name: Adam) (also annoying).
Lizzie leaned back from the computer to read over what she had written so far. Was it getting too long? No, it was good. Even Charles would probably say so. Charles was always writing letters. One of them, about a beagle puppy who was not being treated well, had even gotten published in the newspaper. But so far, letters had not really been Lizzie’s thing.
Lizzie’s thing was reading. Lately it seemed like all she wanted to do was read, read, read.(And play with dogs and puppies, of course. That would always be her first choice.) And she especially loved reading Kit Smithers’s books. Kit Smithers wrote stories about girls Lizzie’s age who did cool things, like paddling canoes or surviving in the wilderness by eating roots and berries.
After she had read all six of the Kit Smithers books at the library, Lizzie had begged her mom to buy her three more, including a hardcover copy of
Mountain Girl
with beautiful illustrations. She’d gobbled those books up, too, and then started all over again. Finally, one Friday night after supper, she’d decided she just had to let Kit Smithers know how much she, Lizzie Peterson, loved her books.
Now Lizzie looked at the screen and started to write again.
I don’t have a real job, since I’m only in fourth grade, but I volonteere at the animal shelterevery single Saturday, and sometimes I help out at my aunt Amanda’s doggy day care. One day she had 37 dogs to take care of! I am very good at training dogs. I trained our puppy, Buddy, to sit, stay, come, sit up pretty (like, sitting with his front paws held up), shake, and fetch. Only, when he fetches, he doesn’t always bring the ball back and you have to chase him for it, which he thinks is a game, so he runs even faster. Buddy is brown with a white spot on his chest in the shape of a heart. He is a good boy and I love him.
Lizzie looked down at the floor, where Buddy was snoozing, curled up in a snug ball. First his nose and then his paws began to twitch, and Buddy let out a little snuffly half bark. Lizzie’s dad said that meant a dog was dreaming. Lizzie liked to imagine what Buddy might be dreaming about. Treats, probably. He sure did love those new biscuits Mom had bought, the ones that looked liketiny lamb chops. Or maybe he was dreaming about chasing squirrels. Buddy loved to tear after the squirrels in the backyard, even though he never came close to catching one.
Lizzie wanted to pick Buddy up and hug him and kiss his soft puppy fur and stroke his silky ears. But he looked so content, asleep on the thick rug. She decided to wait. Maybe he would wake up by the time she was done with her letter.
Lizzie planned to draw some pictures on the letter after she printed it out. Maybe a horse, which she had just learned to draw. Her best friend, Maria, had taught her. Maria really loved horses, and she could draw them so they looked 100 percent real. So far Lizzie’s horses looked sort of like sock puppets, but she just needed more practice.
Lizzie finished the letter.
Please write back as
Dear Kit Smithers,
My name is Lizzie Peterson, and I am in fourth grade. I am writing to you because you are my favorite author. Your books are the best. I have read almost all of them exsept
Islanders,
but my favorite one is
Mountain Girl.
It’s so exciting. My favorite part is when Sunny thinks she hears a bear in the woods.
I can tell that you like dogs because you put dogs in all your books and they always seem like real dogs, not book dogs, if you know what I mean. I love dogs, espeshally puppies. I have a puppy named Buddy. He is the cutest. My family even fosters puppies. That means we take careof puppies who need homes, just until we can find each one the perfect forever family.
My family is:
— my dad, who is a firefighter
— my mom, who is a writter like you, only she’s a newspaper reporter
— my younger brother Charles (annoying)
— my youngest brother, the Bean (real name: Adam) (also annoying).
Lizzie leaned back from the computer to read over what she had written so far. Was it getting too long? No, it was good. Even Charles would probably say so. Charles was always writing letters. One of them, about a beagle puppy who was not being treated well, had even gotten published in the newspaper. But so far, letters had not really been Lizzie’s thing.
Lizzie’s thing was reading. Lately it seemed like all she wanted to do was read, read, read.(And play with dogs and puppies, of course. That would always be her first choice.) And she especially loved reading Kit Smithers’s books. Kit Smithers wrote stories about girls Lizzie’s age who did cool things, like paddling canoes or surviving in the wilderness by eating roots and berries.
After she had read all six of the Kit Smithers books at the library, Lizzie had begged her mom to buy her three more, including a hardcover copy of
Mountain Girl
with beautiful illustrations. She’d gobbled those books up, too, and then started all over again. Finally, one Friday night after supper, she’d decided she just had to let Kit Smithers know how much she, Lizzie Peterson, loved her books.
Now Lizzie looked at the screen and started to write again.
I don’t have a real job, since I’m only in fourth grade, but I volonteere at the animal shelterevery single Saturday, and sometimes I help out at my aunt Amanda’s doggy day care. One day she had 37 dogs to take care of! I am very good at training dogs. I trained our puppy, Buddy, to sit, stay, come, sit up pretty (like, sitting with his front paws held up), shake, and fetch. Only, when he fetches, he doesn’t always bring the ball back and you have to chase him for it, which he thinks is a game, so he runs even faster. Buddy is brown with a white spot on his chest in the shape of a heart. He is a good boy and I love him.
Lizzie looked down at the floor, where Buddy was snoozing, curled up in a snug ball. First his nose and then his paws began to twitch, and Buddy let out a little snuffly half bark. Lizzie’s dad said that meant a dog was dreaming. Lizzie liked to imagine what Buddy might be dreaming about. Treats, probably. He sure did love those new biscuits Mom had bought, the ones that looked liketiny lamb chops. Or maybe he was dreaming about chasing squirrels. Buddy loved to tear after the squirrels in the backyard, even though he never came close to catching one.
Lizzie wanted to pick Buddy up and hug him and kiss his soft puppy fur and stroke his silky ears. But he looked so content, asleep on the thick rug. She decided to wait. Maybe he would wake up by the time she was done with her letter.
Lizzie planned to draw some pictures on the letter after she printed it out. Maybe a horse, which she had just learned to draw. Her best friend, Maria, had taught her. Maria really loved horses, and she could draw them so they looked 100 percent real. So far Lizzie’s horses looked sort of like sock puppets, but she just needed more practice.
Lizzie finished the letter.
Please write back as
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