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Chapter 1 of Double Fudge by Judy Blume

Chapter 1 of Double Fudge by Judy Blume

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Read Chapter 1 of DOUBLE FUDGE by Judy Blume!
Read Chapter 1 of DOUBLE FUDGE by Judy Blume!

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Published by: Penguin Young Readers Group on Apr 04, 2012
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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When my brother Fudge was five, he discoveredmoney in a big way. “Hey, Pete,” he said one night asI was getting out of the shower. “How much wouldit cost to buy New York?”“The city or the state?” I asked, as if it were a seri-ous question.“Which is bigger?”“The state, but all the good stuff is in the city.”People who don’t live in the city might disagree, butI’m a city kind of guy.“We live in the city, right?” Fudge said. He was sit-ting on the open toilet seat in his pajamas.“You’re not
anything, are you?” I asked as Itoweled myself dry.
The Miser
“What do you mean, Pete?”“I
you’re sitting on the toilet, and you haven’tpulled down your pj’s.”He swung his feet and started laughing. “Don’tworry, Pete. Only Tootsie still poops in her pants.”Tootsie is our little sister. She’ll be two in February.Fudge watched as I combed my wet hair. “Are yougoing someplace?” he asked.“Yeah, to bed.” I got into clean boxers and pulled aT-shirt over my head.“Then how come you’re getting dressed?”“I’m not getting dressed. Starting tonight, this iswhat I wear instead of pajamas. And how come you’restill up?”“I can’t go to sleep until you tell me, Pete.”“Tell you what?”“How much it would cost to buy New York City.”“Well, the Dutch paid about twenty-four dollarsfor it back in the sixteen hundreds.”“Twenty-four dollars?” His eyes opened wide.“That’s all?”“Yeah, it was a real bargain. But don’t get yourhopes up. That’s not what it would cost today, even if it were for sale, which it’s not.”“How do you know, Pete?”“Believe me, I know!”“But how?”
“Listen, Fudge . . . by the time you’re twelve there’sa lot of stuff you know, and you don’t even know how you know it.”He repeated my line. “There’s a lot of stuff youknow and you don’t even know how you know it!”Then he laughed like crazy. “That’s a tongue twister,Pete.”“No, that’s just the truth, Fudge.”The next day he was at it again. In the elevator heasked Sheila Tubman, “How much money do youhave, Sheila?”“That’s not a polite question, Fudgie,” she toldhim. “Nice people don’t talk about their money, es-pecially in these times.” Sheila gave me a look like itwas my fault my brother has no manners. I hope she’snot in my class this year. I hope that
year, andevery year she’s there, like some kind of itch you can’tget rid of, no matter how hard you scratch.“I’m nice,” Fudge said, “and I like to talk aboutmoney. You want to know how much I have?”“No,” Sheila told him. “It’s nobody’s business but yours.”He told her anyway. I knew he would. “I have four-teen dollars and seventy-four cents. I mise my moneyevery night before I go to sleep.”“You
your money?” Sheila asked. Then she

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