Baroness Casebook
LEVEL 3.8
27685
A Bad Case of Stripes
Shannon, David
Camilla Cream loved lima beans. But she
never ate them. All of her friends hated lima
beans, and she wanted to fit in. Camilla was
always worried about what other people thought
of her. Today she was fretting even more than
usual. It was the first day of school, and she
couldn’t decide what to wear. There were so
many people to impress! She tried on forty-two
outfits, but none seemed quite right. She put on
a pretty red dress and looked in the mirror. Then
she screamed. Her mother ran into the room, and
she screamed, too. “Oh my heavens! She cried,
“You’re completely covered with stripes!” This
was certainly true. Camilla was stripped from
head to toe. She looked like a rainbow. Mrs.
Cream felt Camilla’s forehead “Do you feel
alright?” she asked. “I feel fine,” Camilla
answered, “but just look at me!” “You get back in
bed this instant,” her mother ordered. “You’re not
going to school today.” Camilla was relieved. She
didn’t want to miss the first day of school, but
she was afraid of what the other kids would say.
And she had no idea what to wear with those
crazy striped. That afternoon, Dr. Bumble came
to examine Camilla. “Most extraordinary!” he
exclaimed. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Are
you having any coughing, sneezing, runny nose,
aches, pains, or uncontrollable twitching?” “No,”
Camilla told him. “I feel fine.” “Well then,” Dr.
Bumble said, turning to Mrs. Cream, “I don’t see
any reason why she shouldn’t go to school
tomorrow. Here’s some ointment that should help
clear those stripes in a few days. If it doesn’t,
you know where to reach me.” And off he went.
The next day was a disaster. Everyone at
school laughed at Camilla. They called her
“Camilla Crayon” and “Night of the Living
Lollipop.” She tried her best to act as if
everything were normal, but when the class said
the Pledge of Allegiance, her stripes turned red,
white, and blue, and broke out in stars. The other
kids thought this was great. One yelled out,
“Let’s see some purple polka dots!” Sure enough,
Camilla turned all purple polka-dotty. Someone
else shouted, “Checkerboard!” and a pattern of
squares covered her skin. Soon everyone was
calling out different shapes and colors, and poor
Camilla was changing faster than you can change
channels on T.V. That night, Mrs. Harms, the
school principal, called. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Cream,”
he said. “I’m going to have to ask you to keep
Camilla home from school. She’s just too much of
a distraction, and I’ve been getting calls from the
other parents. They’re afraid those stripes might
be contagious. Camilla was so embarrassed. She
couldn’t believe that two days ago everyone liked
her. Now, nobody wanted to be in the same room
with her. Her father tried to make her feel
better. “Is there anything I can get you,
sweetheart?” he asked. “No, thank you,” sighed
Camilla. What she really wanted was a nice plate
of lima beans, but she had been laughed at enough
for one day.
“Hmm, well, yes, I see,” Dr. Bumble mumbled
when Mr. Cream phoned the next day. “I think
I’d better bring in the Specialists. “We’ll be right
over.” About an hour later, Dr. Bumble arrived
with four people in long white coats. He
introduced them to the Creams. “This is Dr. Grop,
Dr. Sponge, Dr. Cricket, and Dr. Young.” Then the
Specialist went to work on Camilla. They
squeezed and jabbed, tapped and tested. It was
very uncomfortable. “Well. It’s not the mumps,”
concluded Dr. Grop. “Or the measles,” said Dr.
Sponge. “Definitely not chicken pox,” put in Dr.
Cricket. “Or sunburn,” said Dr. Young. “Try
these,” said the Specialists. They each handed
her a bottle filled with different colored pills.
“Take one of each before bed,” said Dr. Grop.
They filed out the front door, followed by Dr.
Bumble. That night, Camilla took her medicine. It
was awful. When she woke up the next morning,
she did fell different, but when she got dressed,
her clothes didn’t fit her right. She looked in the
mirror, and there, staring back at her , was a
giant, multi-colored pill with her face on it. Dr.
Bumble rushed over as soon as Mrs. Cream called.
But this time, instead of the Specialists, he
brought the Experts. Dr. Gourd and Mr. Mellon
were the finest scientific minds in the land. Once
again, Camilla was poked and prodded, looked at
and listened to. The Experts wrote down lots of
numbers. Then they huddled together and
whispered. Dr. Gourd finally spoke. “It
might be a virus,” he announced with authority.
Suddenly, fuzzy little virus balls appeared all over
Camilla. “Or possibly some form of bacteria,” said
Mr. Mellon. Out popped squiggly little bacteria
tails. “Or it could be a fungus,” added Dr. Gourd.
Instantly, Camilla was covered with different
colored fungus blotches. The Experts looked at
Camilla, then at each other. “We need to go over
these numbers again back at the lab,” Dr. Gourd
explained. “We’ll call you when we know
something.” But the Experts didn’t have a clue,
much less a cure.
By now, the T.V. news had found out about
Camilla. Reporters from every channel were
outside her house, telling the story of “The
Bizarre Case of the Incredible Changing Kid.”
Soon a huge crowd was camped out on the front
lawn. The Creams were swamped with all kinds of
remedies from psychologists, allergists, herbalists,
nutritionists, psychics, an old medicine man, a guru,
and even a veterinarian. Each
so-called cure only added to poor Camilla’s
strange appearance until it was hard to even
recognize her. She sprouted roots and berries and
crystals and feathers and a long furry tail. But
nothing worked. One day, a woman who called
herself an Environmental Therapist claimed she
could cure Camilla. “Close your eyes,” she said.
“Breathe deeply, and become one with your room.”
“I wish you hadn’t said that,” Camilla groaned.
Slowly, she started to melt into the walls of her
room. Her bed became her mouth, her nose was a
dresser, and two paintings were her eyes. The
therapist screamed and ran from the house.
“What are we going to do?” cried Mrs. Cream. “It
just keeps getting worse and worse!” She began to
cry. At that moment, Mr. Cream heard a quiet
little knock at the front door. He opened it, and
there stool an old woman who was just as plump
and sweet as a strawberry. “Excuse me,” she said
brightly. “But I think I can help.” She went into
Camilla’s room and looked around. “My goodness,”
she said with a shake of her head. “What we
have here is a bad case of stripes. One of the
worst I’ve ever seen!” She pulled a container of
small green beans from her bag. “Here,” she said.
“These might do the trick.” “Are those magic
beans?” asked Mrs. Cream. “Oh my, no,” replied
the kind old woman. “There’s no such thing.
These are just plain old lima beans. I’ll bet you’d
like some, wouldn’t you?” she asked Camilla.
Camilla wanted a big, heaping plateful of lima
beans more than just abut anything, but she was
still afraid to admit it. “Yuck!” she said. “No one
likes lima beans, especially me!” “Oh, dear,” the
old woman said sadly. “I guess I was wrong about
you.” She put the beans back in her bag and
started toward the door. Camilla watched the old
woman walk away. Those beans would taste so
good. And being laughed at for eating them was
nothing, compared to what she’d been going
through. She finally couldn’t stand it. “Wait!”
she cried. “The truth is…I really love lima beans.”
“I thought so,” the old woman said with a smile.
She took a handful of beans and popped them into
Camilla’s mouth. “Mmmm,” said Camilla. Suddenly
the branches, feathers, and squiggly tails began to
disappear, there stood Camilla, and everything was
back to normal. “I’m cured!” she shouted. “Yes,”
said the old woman. “I knew the real you was in
there somewhere.” She patted Camilla on the
head. Then she went outside and vanished into
the crowd. Afterward, Camilla wasn’t quite the
same. Some of the kids at school said she was
weird, but she didn’t care a bit. She ate all the
lima beans she wanted, and she never had even a
touch of stripes again.
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