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Authors: Megan McDonald
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you’ll be able to comb your hair so it sticks straight up. Sticking-up hair will make you look taller.”
Stink put the goopy goop in his hair. He left it in his hair while he made his bed. He left it in his hair while he packed up his backpack. He left it in his hair all through breakfast.
“We could play baseball, and you could be
short
stop,” Judy told him.
“So funny I forgot to laugh,” said Stink.
Judy pointed to Stink’s hair. “Hey, I think it’s working!” she said.
“Really? Do you think people will notice?”
“They’ll notice,” said Judy.
Stink ran upstairs to look in the mirror. “HEY! My HAIR! It’s ORANGE!”
“Don’t worry,” said Judy. “It’ll wash out . . . in about a week.”
“I look like a carrot!” said Stink.
“Carrots are tall,” said Judy, and she laughed all the way to the bus stop.
Stink’s friend Elizabeth sat next to him in class. They were the shortest kids in Class 2D, so they sat up front. “Hi, Elizabeth,” said Stink.
“I’m not Elizabeth anymore,” she told Stink. “From now on, call me Sophie of the Elves.”
“Okay. I have a new name, too. The Incredible Shrinking Stink.”
“But, Stink, you look taller today,” said Elizabeth.
“It’s just the hair,” said Stink. “I’m still short.”
“Not to an elf. To an elf, you’d be a giant. To an elf, you would be the Elf King.”
“Thanks, Sophie of the Elves,” said Stink.
The bell rang, and Mrs. Dempster passed out spelling words. Three of the new words were
shrink, shrank, shrunk.
At lunch, the dessert was strawberry
short
cake. And in Reading, Mrs. Dempster read everybody a book called
The Shrinking of Treehorn.
The book was all about a boy who plays games and reads cereal boxes and gets shorter and shorter. He keeps shrinking and shrinking. Then, just when he becomes a normal size again, he turns green!
“Any comments?” Mrs. Dempster asked when the story was over.
Stink raised his hand. “Is that a true story?”
Mrs. D. laughed. “I’m afraid not,” she said. “It’s fantasy.”
“Fantasy’s my favorite!” said Sophie of the Elves. “Especially hobbits and elves.”
“Are you sure it’s fantasy?” asked Stink. “Because that kid is a lot like me. Because I’m . . . I’m . . .” Stink could not make himself say
shrinking.
“Because you both turned another color?” asked Webster.
“Um, because I like to read everything on the cereal box, too,” said Stink.
“Okay,” said Mrs. Dempster. “Let’s see. Who’s going to carry the milk from the cafeteria today?” Stink was barely paying attention. He never got asked to carry the milk.
“How about Mr. James Moody?” asked Mrs. Dempster.
“Me?” asked Stink. He sat up taller. “I get to carry the milk?”
Stink walked down the second-grade hallway. It looked longer than usual. And wider. He took the stairs down to the cafeteria. Were there always this many stairs? His legs felt shorter. Like they shrink, shrank, shrunk.
Stink got the milk crate. He carried the milk up the stairs, past the office, and past the teachers’ room. Now his arms felt shorter. He needed a rest. He set the milk down outside the nurse’s office.
“Hi, Stink!” called Mrs. Bell. “I see you have a new hairstyle.”
“My sister turned it ORANGE,” said Stink.
“So, what brings you here today? Headache? Sore throat? There’s a lot going around, you know.”
“Is shrinking going around?” asked Stink. “Because I think I’m shrinking. As in getting shorter.”
“You’re shrinking? What makes you think so?”
“My sister. I mean, she measures me every morning. And I’m always three feet, eight inches. But last night she measured me before I went to bed, and I’d shrunk! I was only three feet, seven and three quarters inches. I’m a whole quarter inch shorter!”
“Don’t worry, honey,” said Mrs. Bell. “Everybody shrinks during the day. We’re all a little shorter at night than we are
Stink put the goopy goop in his hair. He left it in his hair while he made his bed. He left it in his hair while he packed up his backpack. He left it in his hair all through breakfast.
“We could play baseball, and you could be
short
stop,” Judy told him.
“So funny I forgot to laugh,” said Stink.
Judy pointed to Stink’s hair. “Hey, I think it’s working!” she said.
“Really? Do you think people will notice?”
“They’ll notice,” said Judy.
Stink ran upstairs to look in the mirror. “HEY! My HAIR! It’s ORANGE!”
“Don’t worry,” said Judy. “It’ll wash out . . . in about a week.”
“I look like a carrot!” said Stink.
“Carrots are tall,” said Judy, and she laughed all the way to the bus stop.
Stink’s friend Elizabeth sat next to him in class. They were the shortest kids in Class 2D, so they sat up front. “Hi, Elizabeth,” said Stink.
“I’m not Elizabeth anymore,” she told Stink. “From now on, call me Sophie of the Elves.”
“Okay. I have a new name, too. The Incredible Shrinking Stink.”
“But, Stink, you look taller today,” said Elizabeth.
“It’s just the hair,” said Stink. “I’m still short.”
“Not to an elf. To an elf, you’d be a giant. To an elf, you would be the Elf King.”
“Thanks, Sophie of the Elves,” said Stink.
The bell rang, and Mrs. Dempster passed out spelling words. Three of the new words were
shrink, shrank, shrunk.
At lunch, the dessert was strawberry
short
cake. And in Reading, Mrs. Dempster read everybody a book called
The Shrinking of Treehorn.
The book was all about a boy who plays games and reads cereal boxes and gets shorter and shorter. He keeps shrinking and shrinking. Then, just when he becomes a normal size again, he turns green!
“Any comments?” Mrs. Dempster asked when the story was over.
Stink raised his hand. “Is that a true story?”
Mrs. D. laughed. “I’m afraid not,” she said. “It’s fantasy.”
“Fantasy’s my favorite!” said Sophie of the Elves. “Especially hobbits and elves.”
“Are you sure it’s fantasy?” asked Stink. “Because that kid is a lot like me. Because I’m . . . I’m . . .” Stink could not make himself say
shrinking.
“Because you both turned another color?” asked Webster.
“Um, because I like to read everything on the cereal box, too,” said Stink.
“Okay,” said Mrs. Dempster. “Let’s see. Who’s going to carry the milk from the cafeteria today?” Stink was barely paying attention. He never got asked to carry the milk.
“How about Mr. James Moody?” asked Mrs. Dempster.
“Me?” asked Stink. He sat up taller. “I get to carry the milk?”
Stink walked down the second-grade hallway. It looked longer than usual. And wider. He took the stairs down to the cafeteria. Were there always this many stairs? His legs felt shorter. Like they shrink, shrank, shrunk.
Stink got the milk crate. He carried the milk up the stairs, past the office, and past the teachers’ room. Now his arms felt shorter. He needed a rest. He set the milk down outside the nurse’s office.
“Hi, Stink!” called Mrs. Bell. “I see you have a new hairstyle.”
“My sister turned it ORANGE,” said Stink.
“So, what brings you here today? Headache? Sore throat? There’s a lot going around, you know.”
“Is shrinking going around?” asked Stink. “Because I think I’m shrinking. As in getting shorter.”
“You’re shrinking? What makes you think so?”
“My sister. I mean, she measures me every morning. And I’m always three feet, eight inches. But last night she measured me before I went to bed, and I’d shrunk! I was only three feet, seven and three quarters inches. I’m a whole quarter inch shorter!”
“Don’t worry, honey,” said Mrs. Bell. “Everybody shrinks during the day. We’re all a little shorter at night than we are
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