Miss Penelope Dork Diaries -

“Miss Fart Cloud it is,” I said. I grabbed a wet wipe. “Now, give me the cat.”

That was the moment she decided she liked me. Children are terrifying.

My heart cracked a little. “That’s very honest.” miss penelope dork diaries

My name is Penelope Pembrooke, and if you are imagining me as a sparkly, cupcake-baking, lullaby-singing nanny from a storybook, you can stop right now. My uniform is not a frilly apron. It is a pair of noise-canceling headphones, a dark sweater (stains don’t show), and sneakers that have seen things. Terrible things. Like the inside of a ball pit at a fast-food restaurant.

Not mine. The diary.

“What would you write,” I asked, “if you knew no one would ever, ever read it except the next kid?”

“Miss Penelope?”

She handed me a folded piece of paper. It was a single page torn from the pink diary. On it, in purple gel pen, she had drawn two stick figures. One small, with mismatched eyes. One tall, with a coffee cup and noise-canceling headphones. Underneath, she had written: