Junie B., First Grader: Cheater Pants (Junie B. Jones, No. 21)

Junie B., First Grader: Cheater Pants (Junie B. Jones, No. 21)

Barbara Park

Language: English

Pages: 96

ISBN: 0375823026

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Barbara Park’s New York Times bestselling chapter book series, Junie B. Jones, is a classroom favorite and has been keeping kids laughing—and reading—for more than twenty years. Over 60 million copies in print and now with a bright new look for a new generation!
Meet the World’s Funniest First Grader—Junie B. Jones! Junie B. has all the answers when it comes to cheating. It’s just plain wrong! But what about copying someone else’s homework? That’s not cheating, right? ’Cause homework isn’t even a test! And speaking of tests . . . what if a friend shares an answer that you didn’t even ask for? Sharing definitely isn’t cheating . . . is it? Uh-oh. Maybe this cheating business is more complicated than Junie B. thought. Could she be a cheater pants and not even know it?
USA Today:
“Junie B. is the darling of the young-reader set.”
Publishers Weekly:
“Park convinces beginning readers that Junie B.—and reading—are lots of fun.”
Kirkus Reviews:
“Junie’s swarms of young fans will continue to delight in her unique take on the world. . . . A hilarious, first-rate read-aloud.”
“Junie B. Jones is a feisty six-year-old with an endearing penchant for honesty.”

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scrunched way down in the corner. Pretty soon, we heard Mother and Daddy come in my room. Our hearts started to pound and pound. Then we tried to scrunch even smaller. Only too bad for us. Because Philip Johnny Bob accidentally knocked over a shoe box. And it made a loud crashing sound. Mother and Daddy opened the closet door. I waved at them real pleasant. “Hello. How are you today?” I said. Philip Johnny Bob held out his arms. I love you people, he said. Daddy rolled his eyes. Then

the game.” After that, she went to go start my bath water. Me and Philip Johnny Bob flopped back on my pillow. We did a sigh. ’Cause grown-ups never do anything wrong, it seems. Not even when they do. The next morning, I sat next to Herb on the bus. I sit next to him every single day. On account of that's what bestest friends automatically do. Herb started talking about his new dog, Dilly. Only I couldn't even pay attention that good. ’Cause how can you talk about Dilly when you've

guys just talk about your normal stupid stuff, and I'll write the poem,” she said. “I'll read it to you when I get done.” Lennie looked disappointed. “But Mr. Scary said we should write our poem together, May,” he said. “Sí,” said José. “We're supposed to share thoughts and ideas, remember?” May threw her hands in the air. “I knew it!” she said. “I knew working as a team wouldn't work. Fine. You guys just write your own dumb poem. And I'll write mine.” After that, she took her pencil and

Finally, José put his head on his desk. “Maybe we're making this too hard,” he said. “Why can't we just write about something easy? Like about how all of us are friends or something.” Herb smiled a little bit. “Yeah. That's a good idea. We could write about the four of us. And we could call it ‘Friends.’” José smiled, too. “Sí,” he said. “Or ‘Amigos,’ maybe.” Just then, I bounced up and down real excited. ’Cause the perfect title just hit me, that's why! It hit me right out of the clear

Camille and Chenille. “I wanted to write my poem with two girls in my group,” she said. “But all they wanted to write about was twins, twins, twins.” She looked at them some more. “The whole world is not just about you two, you know,” she grouched. After that, she fluffed her lacy dress. And she read her poem: Me. Richie Lucille. Shopping, buying, spending. Everyone's jealous of myself. Princess. After she was finished, Mr. Scary sat there for a second. Then he smiled and nodded.

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