Strange Smells & Jeremy’s Jersey

“Wow! What a great game,” exclaimed Jeremy as he and his dad climbed into their car.

“Yeah! That James Jameson is sure a great soccer player,” Dad remarked. “He can do almost anything with a soccer ball.”

“I still can’t believe I won an autographed jersey,” said Jeremy, gazing down proudly at his brand-new shirt. It was a little big, but Jeremy didn’t care. The most important part was the signature of his favorite soccer player written on it: “James Jameson.”

“That’s a neat shirt,” Dad said. “But it looks like you already got ketchup on the front.”

“Huh?” Jeremy looked down. “Oh no!” He licked his finger and wiped at the ketchup stain.

“You know Mom is going to want to wash that shirt, right?” Dad asked as he drove toward home.

“What?! No way! The writing might get ruined. I’m never taking this jersey off.”

Dad laughed. “Well, we’ll see about that.”

Soon, Jeremy and his dad walked into the house where Mom greeted them. “Hello there, soccer fans!”

“Look what I won, Mom!” said Jeremy, as he spun around to show off his new jersey.

Mom peered at the shirt then pointed. “Uh-oh, you got a ketchup stain there.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Mom, just look at the shirt, not the ketchup. It’s got James Jameson’s autograph!”

“Great! Who’s he?”

“He’s only the best soccer player on our professional team! And he’s my favorite player! I wanna be just like him.”

“That’s nice, Dear,” Mom replied. “But you got ketchup on it. Don’t you want me to wash it for you?”

“No thanks. I don’t want his name to get smeared, or maybe disappear completely.”

Mom shrugged. “Okay, if you say so.”

Jeremy wore his new shirt every day that week: at school, at home, and in the backyard as he practiced soccer. He tried to be extra careful not to get anything on it, but soon there were chocolate stains and grass stains to match the ketchup stain. Jeremy liked his shirt so much he still didn’t want to take it off.

Finally, it was Saturday again. Jeremy rolled out of bed and changed from his pj’s back into his soccer jersey once again. Then he sniffed. “That’s funny,” he said to himself. “Something smells weird. I wonder what Mom’s cooking for breakfast.” He shrugged and headed to the kitchen.

“Good morning, Mom,” he said, giving her a quick hug.

“Good morn—eww!” Mom took a step backward. “Jeremy, you’re still wearing that dirty thing?” She pointed to his shirt.

“Of course, I am,” he replied. “It’s my favorite brand-new shirt.”

“It doesn’t look very new,” said Mom. “I wish you would take it off and wash it.”

Jeremy gasped. “No! I can’t. It’ll get ruined; I just know it.”

Mom sighed and shook her head then turned back to flipping pancakes. Jeremy sniffed around the kitchen, but nothing in there seemed to smell strange. But he kept smelling that same weird odor as he ate his breakfast. When he was finished, Jeremy went outside to kick the soccer ball around some more.

After a hard workout, Jeremy sat down for a rest. He took a drink from his water bottle then sniffed. “What IS that smell?” he wondered again.

Later that day, Emily and Jeremy decided to play a board game together. Emily sat at the table across from her brother and set up the game.

Jeremy sat down then he sniffed. “There’s that funny smell again,” he thought. He asked Emily, “Do you smell that?”

Emily sniffed. “Smell what?”

Jeremy sniffed again. “It’s a strange smell, and I keep smelling it wherever I go. Is Mom cooking something weird?”

Emily got up and walked to the kitchen door. She opened the door and sniffed. “I smell chocolate cake in there, but that’s not weird—it smells delicious,” she said. Emily continued around the room, sniffing. As she walked closer to Jeremy, her nose began to crinkle. She stood next to her brother and took one more sniff. “Oh! Jeremy! Gross!” She took a step back.

Jeremy looked at his sister in surprise. “What?!”

“It’s your shirt!” Emily pinched her nose. “That’s what you’ve been smelling all day! How long has it been since you washed that thing?”

“Never,” Jeremy replied proudly. “I don’t want to wash it.”

“Well, you better,” Emily argued. “Pretty soon, no one will want to be near you.” Emily hurried back to the other side of the table, swishing her hand under her nose.

“My shirt’s just fine. What do you know about soccer jerseys?” Jeremy huffed.

“Well, I know that they’re not supposed to get THAT dirty and smelly.”

“Some of the best soccer players get their jerseys even dirtier than this when they play,” Jeremy insisted.

“Maybe, but then they wash them, right?”

Jeremy frowned.

“And,” Emily continued, “I’ve seen your poster of James Jameson, and his jersey is spotless and clean. Do you think he’d want the winner of his jersey to let it get so icky? If you really wanted to be like him, you’d keep your jersey clean—just like his.”

Jeremy stared at his messy, crinkled, and stained jersey. “I guess you’re right,” he admitted. “I’ll be right back.” He left the room and returned wearing a clean shirt.

Emily sniffed. “Hey, you don’t smell disgusting anymore.”

“Nope, I took off that stinky shirt,” said Jeremy. “And don’t worry. From now on, I’ll only put on my jersey if it’s clean.

“Yay!” Emily cheered. “Glad to hear it! Now, let’s play.”

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