Starring Sally J. Freedman as Herself
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Sally investigates post-WWII Florida with theatrical flair in this classic middle grade novel from Judy Blume. Now with a fresh new look!
Sally J. Freedman was ten when she made herself a movie star. She would have been happy to reach stardom in New Jersey, but in 1947 her older brother Douglas became ill, so the Freedman family traveled south to spend eight months in the sunshine of Florida. That’s where Sally met her friends Andrea, Barbara, Shelby, Peter, and Georgia Blue Eyes—and her unsuspecting enemy, Adolf Hitler.
Dear Chief of Police:
You don’t know me but I am a detective from New Jersey. I have uncovered a very interesting case down here. I have discovered that Adolf Hitler is alive and has come to Miami Beach to retire. He is pretending to be an old Jewish man...
While she watches and waits, and keeps a growing file of letters under her bed, Sally’s Hitler will play an important—though not quite starring—role in one of her grandest movie spectaculars.
come you play potsy with me every day after school?” “That’s different,” Andrea said. “You’re the best potsy player in our house.” Sally smiled. At least Andrea admitted that. She was the potsy champion of 1330 Pennsylvania Avenue and she intended to keep it that way. “I’ve already kissed two boys,” Andrea said on their way back from the bathhouse. “Did you know that?” “Real kisses …” Sally asked, “like in the movies?” “One was and the other wasn’t,” Andrea said. “Tell me about the one that
pulled out a rope. He tied it around Shelby’s neck, pulling it tighter and tighter, until Shelby’s face turned blue. She died with her eyes open, staring into space. And then, while her body was still warm, Mr. Zavodsky pulled out his knife, sharp and shiny, and he peeled off Shelby’s skin, slowly, so as not to rip any. And then he went home to make a new lampshade. “Sally … what is wrong with you?” Mom asked. “What … me … nothing …” Sally said. “You look funny …” “It’s Shelby … I …” “Now
Sally thought. She doesn’t want me to win any more than I wanted her to win. “Sorry, sweetheart …” the shoe man said to Sally. “It’s too wide for your narrow little foot.” “I could stuff the sides with lamb’s wool,” Sally said. “I usually do that anyway.” “Lamb’s wool is okay for the toe, sweetheart … but not for the rest of the foot … don’t look so glum … maybe you’ll win some other time … next,” he called and Sally knew it was over, that she had to put on her sandal and stand up and let
they feed all the movie stars parsley sandwiches so they’ll stay skinny. Imagine no bologna or cupcakes or spaghetti …” “I don’t like spaghetti,” Sally said. “But you like bologna, don’t you?” Andrea said. “Yes … and cupcakes too.” “Well, then …” “That bird didn’t bring me good luck at all,” Sally told Ma Fanny. They were in the breakfast nook waiting for Douglas to return from the Chinese restaurant with a take-out supper. “How do you know it’s not good luck?” Ma Fanny asked. “I didn’t
wait until later. “I’m so excited!” Andrea said. “Do you like my new suit?” “It’s very nice,” Sally said, putting the letter into her beach bag. Andrea’s new bathing suit was two-piece, with green stripes. The top was the same kind of halter that Jackie wore to school. The same kind that Peter Hornstein admired. When the girls were in the changing room at the Seagull Sally told Andrea, “You have to wear a bathing hat here.” “I hate bathing hats!” “Me too … they make my head itch … but you