betty the most lovable girl in the world (preview)

7/28/2019 Betty the Most Lovable Girl in the World (Preview)

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The Adventures of Betty, the Most Lovable Girl in the World.

By Ari Melman

Dedicated to Gavi Melman

Table of Contents:

Chapter One - Chapter One: Friendship is a Black-and-White Advert 1

Chapter Two - Chapter Two: Hope in Honey 7

Chapter Three - Chapter Three: Bravery in Bamboo 15

Chapter Four - Chapter Four: Safety in Stories 22

Chapter Five - Chapter Five: Cotton is Soul Candy 27

Chapter Six: Mapping out Mischief ??Chapter Seven: Oh, Boy ??

Chapter Eight: Cleaning is Caring ??

Chapter Nine: Alien Ambrosia ??

Chapter Ten: Dreaming Dark Delights ??

Chapter Eleven: Rusty our Russian Relations ??

Chapter Twelve: Where Babies Purr, Mothers Roar ??

Chapter Thirteen: Pickled Pride for Peaceberg ??Chapter Fourteen: A Well for Swell Friends ??

Chapter Fifteen: Play Along Parents ??

Chapter Sixteen: Set Off Sisters ??

Chapter Seventeen: Log-Lie Lane ??

Chapter Eighteen: Hear Hear, The Heroine Here ??

Chapter Nineteen: Neighborhood Versus Dad ??

Chapter Twenty: Tangled Twine ??

Chapter Twenty One: Unraveled ??Chapter Twenty Two: Victory Shaded Velvet ??

Chapter Twenty Three: Going, Going, Gone ??

Chapter Twenty Four: I Am Security ??


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AriMelman / BETTY / 1

CHAPTER ONE

Chapter One: Friendship is a Black-and-White Advert

Betty was a strange little girl. Instead of playing

with dolls, or doing up her hair with beads and pretty

ties, Betty liked to do housework. She didn't have much

choice in the matter. As the youngest of five children, all

girls, she had two choices. Either she enjoy doing all

their chores, or bitterly, ineffectively complain.

Betty had never known any other way to live in a

family. Her sisters had not wasted any time in transferring

their responsibilities. At four months, when her fingers

were just strong enough to grasp and hold onto objects,

instead of fingers and binkies and dandelions, they handed

Betty a small broom. At nine months, Betty uttered her

first word. Mom told all her friends that she said "sleep",

wasn't that the cutest thing?, but the sisters knew better.

For what Betty was really repeating, like a meditative


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mantra defining the rest of her days, was "sweep."

When she was old enough to walk, her sisters

hailed this age of new jobs they could give her. They'd

stack all their dirty clothes over her neck until she

looked quite like a walking laundry heap. For her second

birthday, they bought her a stool so she could climb up

onto the washer, which loomed over her twice as tall, and

start the wash. The drying rack was her monkey bars, and as

she dangled above the ground, she'd shake her head making

clothes fall onto the string.

Mother told her friends with great pride. "My

Betty is such a good influence on her older sisters. Ever

since she was born, they've worked harder than ever to keep

the place clean. They must really love her to want such a

clean house for her to grow up in."

But why were her sisters so selfish? Why would

they make their little sister do all the work while they

talked on their phones, watched TV, tried on new hairstyles

and played on the playgrounds? If you have to ask, you've

clearly never had older siblings. Being an older sibling is


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like being a queen all these servants who look up to you

just waiting to follow your every command. If parents don't

watch carefully and make all the children do their share,

every older sibling would act exactly as these girls had.

Betty never complained. She didn't know better.

And mom and dad never asked. It does nobody any good to

meddle when things are going well better not to question

and enjoy.

So day after day, week after week, year after

year, Betty kept the house cleaner than it had ever been

without asking for anything in return. Until one Sunday

morning, as she cleared the Sunday circulars off the

kitchen table in her hands, the most incredible flyer

slipped from the comic pages. With years of trained

reflexes, she caught the floating advert between his fourth

finger and pinkie, her only free fingers. It read:

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, prepare

yourself for the most extraordinary event in this history

of the American Girl Panda Bear Collection. To celebrate

fifty years of supreme craftsmanship, the finest stuffed


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animals the world has ever seen, and a reputation for

fulfilling the greatest childhood memories, we'll be

bringing every American Girl Panda Bear in America together

for three days of unprecedented joy and love.

As you all know, American Girl Panda Bears are the

most exclusive, hand-knit, soft and loving stuffed animals

in the world. Each bear is carefully stitched by hand in a

process that takes a full month! Each bear is custom

designed for its owner. Standing at three feet, they

quickly become companions for life.

To celebrate the finest achievement in childhood

wonder, we're flying in every owner of an American Girl

Panda Bear for three days of enchantment. Every Panda bear

under a single roof! If that wasn't enough, one lucky girl

or boy will receive a special edition fiftiethanniversary

American Girl Panda Bear absolutely free. As you know, they

usually retail for $2000 so the recipient will be very

happy indeed.

Address: Intercontinental Hotel, 55th

and Lawrence


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Ave.

Date: Sunday, June 20"

Betty had never wanted anything in her life as

badly as this. Even though she had never spent much time

with stuffed animals or dolls, deep down in her heart she

wanted one who could be her best friend after all the work

was done. And just like choosing a best friend or a spouse,

the perfect stuffed animal couldn't be chosen willy-nilly.

It had to be perfect! Finally, she had found the perfect

friend, but it was so expensive her mother would never

approve. Besides, even if she managed to buy it, her

sisters would just take it for themselves. It had to be

gotten in such a way that the whole world knew it belonged

to Betty and Betty alone. If only she could go to the

American Girl Panda Bear festival.

She tucked the flyer into her elastipants. Then

she began plotting how she could convince the family to let

her go. Mom would say yes, as long as the house stayed

clean while she was gone. So the big issue was convincing

her sisters to keep clean for three days without her.


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That was harder than it sounds: once, she had

stayed three hours late at school to study for a test. When

she got home, there were clothes all over the house, banana

peels and candy bar wrappers strewn across the floor. Dirty

dishes in every bedroom and dirty napkins piled high on the

kitchen table. Working by herself, it took three hours just

to get everything back to normal. Would they even still be

alive if she left for three days?

So she'd need to bribe them, convince them to tone

down their messy ways while she was gone. It would take six

tons of honey, a handful of hair braids, and a slip and

slide.


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CHAPTER TWO

Chapter Two: Hope in Honey

Fortunately, the Friday of the convention was her

third oldest sister's birthday. While Betty's sisters slept

late, she woke up an extra hour early to prepare her

sister's birthday celebration, baking a funfetti cake with

sprinkles and extra cream to fill the house with the smell

of loveliness. She laid the slip-and-slide across the

backyard grass, turned the nozzle of the water hose

covering the front of the slide.

But not the back half. No way, no how. She had special

plans for that. She rolled the six jugs of honey over, each

taller and wider than she was. She had found them last week

by the expressway leading to her house. A few early

mornings and she'd rolled them home. With a devilish grin,

she opened the tops and poured the honey all over the slip-

and-slide.


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It was so thick and gooey that it rose high above

the ground, wobbling tenuously, waiting to consume

unsuspecting approachers or be consumed by the hungry.

When the sisters awoke, Betty invited them for

cake and birthday games. They pushed and shoved, struggling

to get everything first.

"I'm the birthday girl. I should get the first

slice of cake!" Ashley squealed.

"I'm the oldest, therefore I rule over you all and

I say I eat first." Olivia ordered.

"I'm the most sensitive to germs. If I don't get

the first slice, the cake will be exposed to all sorts of

gross bugs. I need the first slice." Margarette whined.

"It's my day for special favors. Everybody else

got their special favor days. My special favor is getting

cake first!" Young Valentine chimed.

"Oldest first." Isabel, the second oldest sister

reasoned.

Of course, none of the sisters could agree on who

would get first so they all grabbed as much cake as they


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could and stuffed it into their mouths as quickly as

possible. Nobody bothered to thank Betty for baking the

cake, but she didn't mind. She was happy to see how much

they enjoyed it.

While the crumbs were still falling from their

lips, the sisters turned toward the slip-and-slide. It was

so shiny and wet. Everyone wanted a try. Once again, they

all wanted to be first, for all the same reasons. They

fought and clawed and yelled but just as before, what

decided it was when everyone ran and jumped toward the

slide at the same time. The water splashed into the grass

in waves that upturned anthills as the girls slid faster,

faster with glee upon their faces. By the time they noticed

the towering honey, it was too late to move out of the way.

Splat! The girls stuck to the matted honey. They

tried to lift their hands. Globs of honey swished across

them. Their bodies and legs sunk like quicksand beneath the

mountain of sweet orange goo and it took all their energy

to keep their heads from falling in too.

Betty came over with four baby bottles of water


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and placed one next to each sister's mouth.

"What's the meaning of this? Let us out!" Olivia

cried.

"It's only for three days while I'm away. The

honey has plenty of nutrition for food and makes a warm

blanket. We wouldn't want the house to fall down without

me."

"This is the worst birthday ever!" Ashley yelled.

"Well, it sure will be if you keep screaming like

that." Betty said. "Maybe you can take the time to get to

know each other."

But the sisters would have none of Betty's

logical, rehearsed words. They screamed and cried and

threatened revenge. Betty took the watery side of the slide

and draped it over her sisters. Their cries immediately

muffled under the tarp. Mom would just think there were

some stray animals loose.

"Hi mom. I'm ready to go!" Betty said cheerfully

as she walked back inside.

"The house looks so clean honey. Get in the car,


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I'll drive you to the bus station." Mom said.

In no time at all, young Betty was a hundred miles

from home in New Heathen City. Interesting people glittered

before her from the moment she entered the American Girl

Panda Bear 50th

anniversary collection convention. Women of

all ages, with makeup drawn boldly around their eyes all

the way up to their ears. It was supposed to make them look

like panda bears, but truth be told, they looked more like

freaky aliens. Always in two shades of color, they slapped

on purple and black, green and orange. Black and white if

they were particularly uncreative. Covered with mounds of

glitter and sequins. Betty had never seen anybody like

them, and she knew instantly, she wanted in.

She was surprised to see so few little boys and

girls there, but it made sense. Of the thousand owners of

American Girl Panda Bears, 800 were full grown women, 180

were full grown men, and only twenty were young boys and

girls. After all, a stuffed panda is a lifelong companion.

A fifty-five year old woman with a crooked nose, hairs like


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dead autumn grass, and ears as shiny black as an oil spill

smiled and waved at Betty. She held her panda bear's hand

and puppeteered it to wave too. Betty felt a rush of

warmness coming through her. She smiled back and held her

gaze until the woman sided to the clothing accessories

booth.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. It is now

time for the main event. The great American Girl Panda Bear

collection convention competition. Three challenges to

discover the greatest Panda friend among us, with one

deserving winner coming home with their own custom designed

special edition Panda Bear. Sign up at the booth but

beware, you can't refuse any challenge, and they will test

you as you've never been tested before. Choose wisely."

Larry the announcer was a tall wiry man in a white

fur coat and black galoshes. He walked toward the stage in

the back of the conference hall, sheparding flocks of

panda-faced people behind him. He looked like the kind of

man as likely to lead a three-ring circus as be top sales

man at the Wringley bubble gum confectionary. Equally drawn


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to fun as he was drawn to controlling people. He had

constantly tried to blow himself up, projecting the

greatness of mass and success he could never achieve in

that skinny skin.

The contestants signed away their liabilities and

lined up on stage. In total, only two hundred of the

thousand attendees registered to participate. They were old

and satisfied. Another panda in the family would be too

much to take care of, and most weren't confident they could

do a proper job of making the panda feel part of the

family. They had their own pandas, and they loved them, and

that was enough.

But Betty didn't have any panda. She didn't even

have parents that would tuck her in at night, or sisters

that would walk her across the street to meet the ice cream

truck. There was nobody in the entire world that Betty

could open up to, and she had a very big place in her heart

for the panda that could fill it.

"Step right up, contestants. Don't be shy.


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CHAPTER THREE

Chapter Three: Bravery in Bamboo

The contestants grabbed their sticks and began to

barrel away at it. Turner the Terrible had been a Coney

Island sideshow act for twenty long years, bitterly

entertaining children by swallowing swords and letting

small children staple ten dollar bills to his chest. Now,

it all paid off as he suppressed his gag reflex, lowered

the entire tube of bamboo down to his stomach, and let his

stomach acids do the breaking down for him.

Sylvia Silinca karate chopped the bamboo and

gritted it between her teeth until it had the consistency

of sand. Her taste buds had stopped working thirty-five

years earlier after chugging a cup of hot coffee on a bet.

She won thirty dollars from her coworkers and would claim

the bet was worth it, but poor Sylvia had no more taste

buds or vocal cords. She whispered out death, secretly


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screaming for someone to pour her heart out to, one who

would sit and listen all day with nothing but praise for

her ways. Thus dedicated, she ate the bamboo without

protest.

As for young Betty, she did as she always did when

given clear instructions for a task most disturbing and

unfair. She took out her handy pocket fork and knife,

cutting and eating the bamboo branch one piece at a time.

Mom had told the girls they must clear their plates before

leaving the table, but as she was always the first to

leave, on call with her various girl friends, the older

sisters simply piled their unwanted leftovers on Betty's

plate. Always obedient and cheerful, Betty simply learned

to enjoy cold asparagus and chicken-bone strewn skins and

broccoli. The bamboo wasn't worse or better than anything

she'd had to eat before, so she grinned her way through it

without a word.

Onlookers were delighted at the victors' success,

for they were surely in the minority. Boris the lifelong

bachelor looked at the bamboo for so long even the bamboo


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started to get uncomfortable. Then he nibbled at it

cautiously, and finding something slightly distasteful, put

it down and complained to Larry that all the other

contestants got bamboo so much riper and fresher. Booted.

Coral, the fifty year old woman who still thought

of herself in her younger days, those being when she was

five years old, stuck the stick up her nose and expected

the bamboo to do the hard part of chewing itself. When she

realized the stick wasn't moving, she threw a tantrum until

she too was thrown off the stage.

In total, one hundred thirty five contestants

couldn't get past the bamboo challenge. But enough talk

about the failures you're far more interested in the

champions. Sigh. You fussy readers should know Both Coral

and Boris had written TV scripts detailing their lives.

Both thought of themselves as stars in a television show

aired every day, not on their screens but through their

eyes. Their lives were so interesting, so full of

misadventures, yet just like their TV scripts before, they

were kicked off the stage and not another word was said of


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them.

"Ok contestants. Time up. Everyone put your bamboo

sticks down. If you're still around, that means you advance

to the next challenge. Oh, isn't panda life grand? Come out

back everybody, our next challenge is set up outside."

He led them through the auditorium to a door with

a disabled red 'Emergency Exit Only' sign above it. Instead

of finding an empty lot with trashcans as Betty expected,

she saw towering trees as high as the third story of their

hotel. They were bamboo once again, with heavy branches

sticking out in all directions like a topsy-turvy

porcupine.

"To appreciate the hardships of a Panda, one must

learn to move their way. Climb one tree, cross the bamboo

branches and climb down the other side. Those that make it

back down on their own merit will move on to the final

round."

Dozens of middle aged women, a handful of greying

men, and Betty raced toward the trees. Turner the terrible

wrapped his giant hands around the trunk and began to climb


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but he kept getting jammed. Looking down toward his

stomach, he realized with horror that he hadn't taken his

most recent batch of stapled bills out of him. Letting kids

staple his skin made him the wealthiest street performer in

town, but it always left him sore for a day after he took

them out. Too sore to suffer scraping up a tree. This left

Turner the Terrible in a tricky situation. He continued to

catch on small branches and unsmoothed trunk, as parts of

his abdomen hung onto the tree while his hands tried

desperately to ascend. He wiggled and wormed, slid and

squirmed, until he could do so no more. Turner the

Terrible's staples were so stuck across the tree that he

could move no more. Booted.

A fat bald man whose name was too difficult for

Larry to pronounce climbed over Turner and continued

upwards. Meanwhile, forty contestants were still trying

desperately to get more than three feet off the ground.

They kept jumping up and sliding down like firemen. But the

only fire here was burning in their hearts, and it was

quickly extinguishing.


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Betty grabbed the trunk and slid down like the

rest. She looked up past the leaves and branches, to where

she needed to go. Think like a panda. This time, when she

jumped up the trunk, she bit with her two front teeth as

hard as she could. Crunch, went the trunk. Tastes just like

bamboo, Betty confirmed. Using her teeth as a third arm,

she climbed higher and higher. As light as she was, the

branches held her easily without swaying, and she crossed

comfortably.

This time, only fifteen people accomplished the

challenge, making it to the third round. Only the most

dedicated, panda-like people remained. Betty gulped down

her fear then followed Larry back onto the stage inside.

She smiled at him, but he ignored her. An announcer had to

be impartial, after all.

"Now, audience, you may have been watching the

contestants thinking, why is that announcer going so easy

on them? I could do a much better job of picking the true

panda person than he could. Well, now I leave the fur in

your coat. For the last test, contestants will explain why


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they deserve the American Girl Panda Bear Collection

Convention Special Edition Bear. Applaud and circle

contestants after they share their stories. May the most

heartwarming win!"


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CHAPTER FOUR

Chapter Four: Safety in Stories

Nearly 1,000 men and women clutching their panda

bears encircled the remaining contestants. They all looked

so strange with their colored glitter makeup around the

eyes. To Betty, as they stomped, jeered, and stared with

teeth bared, they were hunting predators, not the warm

family looking to adopt someone new into their midst. If

she had anyone to turn to, she would have run off the stage

right there. But there was nobody waiting for her.

A thirty-year-old man in the circle stood up

first. He wore red suspenders and a straw hat with enough

thistles sticking out to feed a horse. His face was flushed

with the red stains of someone who ate an entire cherry pie

forehead first.

"My name's Cleo. I've been a farm boy all my life.

When I was five years old, my best friend was a pig named


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Charles. Charles and I would roll around in the mud for

hours, snorting and honking each other's noses, racing to

the fence and back. I'd stick stickers on his back and he'd

flip me into the grass until I was green. We were

inseparable.

Then one night, dad made the most delicious dinner

for us. Pork loins with cranberry sauce. I must've eaten

more that night than all week combined. He said he'd just

signed a deal with a county distributer and we'd be selling

more than ever. But I never saw Charles again.

It took me a long time to get over the loss of my

best friend. But when I was eight, I met Calvin the Cow.

Calvin was so good at learning tricks. He would moo when I

told him to speak. He would chew grass when I told him to

chew. He would even play dead whenever I tipped him over.

We would lie in the fields for hours, just talking and

making mud pies. Calvin could even make his own mud.

Then one day, dad was so excited, he told us all

about his new business partner who was going to make him

rich. We had him over for dinner that night, and we had the


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most delicious steaks my dad has ever grilled. And I never

saw Calvin again.

It was many years before I could make another

friend. Every time I started to get close, I was afraid dad

was watching in wait to part me from the ones I loved. So I

grew up into the teen years, milling the hay and collecting

sheaves of wheat for the horses. But that all changed on my

twenty-second birthday. We got a new litter of lambs. The

moment I saw her, we were in best friend love. We'd

baaaaaa' at the moon, snuggle up at bedtime, even eat

dinner out of the same bowl.

But even though I could keep dad out of my dreams,

I couldn't keep him out of the pen. After a few months, dad

was serving lamb at our table, and I had no one left to

talk to.

All I want is a best friend my dad can't eat. The

American Girl Panda Bear is stuffed with genuine Egyptian

cotton, tender enough to sleep with but too firm for dad to

digest. Could you please make this poor farm boy's dreams

come true, and give him the friend his parents never


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could?"

Everyone awed in sympathy, with polite applause.

They cared, but not enough to want him to win. Something

about his story made them feel if his dad hadn't wanted him

to have a best friend, it was best not to stand in the way.

Three other contestants shared their stories, all

of which were much too ordinary to share with you now. The

usual sadness and sense of belonging that everyone feels at

some point or another. And then, all eyes turned to Betty,

who had been so caught up with everyone else's stories that

she quite forgot to prepare her own. If only they didn't

live so far away, she would have given anything to be

friends with them. But now Larry was calling her name on

the microphone, louder each time with a hint of aggravation

growing.

"Betty, if you don't talk soon, we'll be forced to

disqualify you. Which would be an awful shame, considering

you're the only child to have qualified for the final

round."

"I don't...." Betty choked out a whisper. She'd


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CHAPTER FIVE

Chapter Five: Cotton is Soul Candy

"You don't have what? A story? A microphone? A

special edition collector's contingent American Girl Panda

Bear? Speak up girl, speak up!"

"I don't have any friends!" She cried.

"Oh." Larry said.

But now that the first words were out, Betty

couldn't stop. It was like a single log had been removed

from a dam and the flow had broken.

"I don't have any friends. I don't have any

friends. I do all the work for my sisters and mother and

father and nobody likes me. Any doll I get is from the

trashcan after my sisters throw it away and as soon as they

see me with it, they rip its head off just to be mean. I

know life isn't fair and I'm not angry with them, but they

have friends.


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I only want one friend. One friend I could call my own.

A friend nobody could claim was theirs because everyone

who's anyone would know it's mine. A friend I could tell

all my secrets to, who we could climb up to the highest

trees and eat softly from the bamboo leaves, who'd hide

away when trouble was near and comfort me in my darkest

fears. Whose hug would melt nightmares and stomach would

always be open to share. From the moment I saw, I knew

nothing could compare to an American Girl Collection Panda

Bear."

Betty's face was covered in tears. Her body shook like

a hummingbird, each limb turning numb individually in order

to tell her brain to cool it with all the talking. It was

all she could focus on until the clapping hit her. Not the

polite clapping from before, from all those sad lonely

stories before her, but real, excited momentous applause,

the kind reserved for last second winning touchdowns and

gold-medal Olympic gymnastics. The crazy ladies were

smearing their makeup as lines of purple and black poured

from their eyes to their chins. The crowd circled around


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Betty, pushing the other contestants to the sides.

They chanted, "We will bear with you, as true as

bamboo."

Larry spoke up, "It seems the crowd has spoken. But to

be fair, there are ten other contestants who have yet to

go. Would any still like to share their stories, or can we

declare Betty the winner?"

The contestants looked from the crowd to each other and

surrendered to the excitement. Nobody had the heart to

wrestle a friend from a girl so in need of love. One by

one, they offered Larry their resignations and joined the

crowd. And as each one joined, the crowd's cheers grew

louder.

"Just one cock-a-doodle peacocking feather of a minute.

You haven't heard from the great Queen Mathus of

Ulickistein. Quit your gloating and parading, I've worked

far too hard to be besmirched now."

The crowd turned and glowered at the Queen. Her voice

crowed, hanging onto random words for far too long, mixing

up expressions in tongue-twisted finesse. She wore a tiara


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studded with diamonds, a long blue frock with floral

pattern, and a scarf of so many colors that Betty wondered

if it fell off a rainbow.

Her neck was as long as a Condor's wing, covered in

multi-colored scarves to more properly resemble a homeless

person's idea of rich people. She was covered in so many

layers, a collage of ten crazy cat ladies rolled into one.

And while the entire crowd slowly realized their jubilant

celebrations were premature, she addressed them.

"I've worked faaaaaar too long a slave in the city,

dreaming ever since I was a young-in' even squatter than

that girl to have a friend as close as you all. You think

life's so difficult for a little girl with no friends? I've

been without friends all my life. You think this princess

thing comes easy? All I got is a bunch of cock-a-mamey two-

bit suitors and a legion of enemies who dream of taking

over my kingdom. This slimey goo-ball plays you for chumps.

I'm the real victim here."

Nobody knew how to respond, as all eyes turned to Larry

to lead. He gave the why-are-you-looking-at-me? shrug, then


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saying, 'You're a blight on the neighborhood Mathus. Get

that grass cut already.' To have someone by who joins in

adventures through the murky swamps of backyardia. A knight

to slice mosquitos in half when they stand in the way of

our treasure. Will you be my sidekick knight, Larry?"

The crowd went wild for that idea, holding their Pandas

above their shoulders and clapping their paws in silent

applause. Larry squirmed his professionalism was being

compromised.

"Queen's are rich, right Mathus? Why don't you just buy

an American Girl Panda

Queen Mathus stuttered. "You can do that? My mother

always told me 'money can't buy you love'. Are you saying

she lied to me?"

"It sounds to me like your mother didn't want you

spending money. Almost every person in this room bought

their American Girl Collection Panda Bear, and look how

happy they are." Larry waved his arm over the throngs of

smiling, make-up drenched adults in the crowd. "Don't you

want to be like them?"


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"I do I do. I had no clue. Making a friend is as easy

as one, two." She whipped out a credit card rubber banded

to her furry rainbow scarf. The crowd roared with delight,

and Mathus roared back.

Larry handed off the card to a service representative.

On his way back, he whispered to Betty. "Don't believe

everything you see. Money only buys happiness when everyone

else has given up on you. You should never depend on money

for love."

"But she looks so happy." Betty said, as Mathus

clutched her brand new American Girl Panda Bear. Mathus

smiled radiantly at the crowd and they lifted their Pandas

to welcome her into their group hug.

"She found friends." Larry said. Then picking up the

microphone to address the crowd, he said. "Without further

adieu, I am thrilled to announce the winner of this

extraordinary American Girl Collection Convention

Competition. We are surrounded by the Panda elites, and

this little girl has proven herself among the top ranks. We

can all look forward to seeing her climb to ever-greater


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heights. Please join me in welcoming Betty Hassen!"

The crowd lifted Betty up and passed her around, above

the heads of all. She floated on the fluff of a thousand

custom stuffed, Panda Bears, each of whom had been

absorbing the emotional power of a combined best friend

diary for decades. The warmth and comfort atop cotton was

incomparable. For the first time in her life, Betty felt

full. The crowd wave cruised Betty back to the stage, where

her Panda awaited her.

Panda wore green suspenders and a blue belt imprinted

in cursive gold lettering: American Girl Best Friend For

Life. His face held a black nose curved toward two black

eyes and a straight-laced mouth that said, tell-me-more.

His hands and feet were lined with surface sensitive

Velcro, able to attach to its owner instantly while easy to

peel off. Betty hugged her Panda with instant attachment.

Betty came home with a framed plaque asserting her

unique relationship with Panda. Her sisters had given up on

squirming but, finding conversation beyond taunts tiring,

spent all three days listing things and people they


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disliked. By the time Betty came home, her number one place

had been practically forgotten by the dozens of others who

had filled the time.

"This is my Panda. If you hurt him or take him from me,

there are a thousand adults who will help me. Everyone

knows he is mine. I will keep doing your laundry and we

never mention this weekend again. Deal?"

"Alright, fine, whatever. Just let us out of here

already. Do you know how long it's going to take to get

this honey out of my hair?" Olivia said.

"Happy Birthday Ashley!" Betty said. Finally,

everything was as it should.

betty the most lovable girl in the world (preview)

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