One Saturday morning, when Monty was outside searching for another caterpillar, he saw a huge pile of items sitting at the end of the driveway next door. There was an old chair with a cane bottom that had a hole in it, two old suitcases, a huge stack of old magazines, some old flowerpots, and a red wagon — except it was so rusty that in some places there was no paint on it at all. Monty admired the wagon. It might come in useful, he thought. Everything piled up the way it was made it appear as if his neighbor Mrs. Carlton might be waiting for the trash collectors. Monty decided to find out for sure.
He rang the doorbell.
“Why, hello, Monty,” exclaimed Mrs. Carlton. “I’m afraid I won’t be your neighbor much longer. But I will certainly miss your infectious smile.”
Infectious! Monty felt his face turning red. Did Mrs. Carlton think she could catch his asthma and get sick too? Asthma was not that kind of sickness. It was a little like the birthmark his classmate Ethan had on his eyelid. It was something he was born with.
“You don’t have to move away. I’m not infectious. You won’t get sick from me,” Monty insisted.
For a moment, Mrs. Carlton looked puzzled. Then she realized why Monty was concerned. “Of course I won’t get sick from you,” said his neighbor, giving Monty a hug. “When I said your smile was infectious, I meant that the smile is catching. When I see you smiling, it makes me want to do the same thing.”
Monty smiled at his neighbor and she smiled back at him.
“Why are you moving away?” he asked.
“I’ve decided this place is too big for me. And I want to move closer to my son and his family. So I’m clearing out the house, and then I’m putting it up for sale.”
“Does that mean you don’t want the wagon and the other stuff that’s outside?” Monty asked.
“It certainly does. The wagon belonged to my son when he was your age. Now he’s forty years old. That wagon is almost an antique.”
“Can I have it?” asked Monty.
“Of course,” his neighbor said. “In fact, come in and look around. Maybe there’s something else here that you want. I haven’t taken everything outside yet. It’s going to take me a long time to clear it all out.”
Monty went into Mrs. Carlton’s house. He’d been there before. Sometimes when his mother baked cookies or made a big pot of soup, she’d send Monty over with some as a gift. Once, he’d gone over and borrowed two eggs from Mrs. Carlton when his mother discovered that she didn’t have enough for the recipe she was preparing.
“Look at this,” said Mrs. Carlton.
Monty saw some boxes of puzzles, a pile of books, and an old teddy bear with a friendly smile. “Jeffrey told me last night to just throw it all out. For years, he insisted that I keep every single thing for his children. But now he says they’ve outgrown all this stuff,” said Mrs. Carlton.
Monty took everything. He took the puzzles, the books, and even the old teddy bear. It took three trips in and out of the house to fill the old wagon with all these new possessions. It was like finding hidden treasure, he thought happily. He pulled the wagon carefully toward home. He noticed that one of the wheels was wobbly. Maybe his dad could help him fix it, he thought.
“Look what I’ve got,” said Monty proudly to his parents.
“Wow!” exclaimed Mr. Morris, looking at all the stuff Monty had. “I think you hit the jackpot.”
Monty nodded happily.
“I guess you’d better count the pieces before you start putting any of those puzzles together. It would be terrible to put in a lot of work only to discover that you were missing a few important bits and couldn’t finish it,” said Mr. Morris.
“Good idea,” said Monty’s mom. “Let me smell that bear,” she said, looking at the teddy bear that Monty had brought home in the wagon.
“Smell it?” asked Monty. It had never occurred to him to do that.
Because of his asthma, his parents had made a point of not giving him stuffed toys when he was little. They worried that the lint they contained would not be good for him.
“Sometimes old stuffed toys get musty or moldy,” his mother explained. She picked up the bear and gave a sniff.
“Just as I thought,” she said, nodding. “I’m afraid this fellow has seen better days. He belongs in the trash.”
“That’s where he was going when I got him,” said Monty. “Can’t we put him in the washing machine? Maybe he’ll smell better then.”
“I’ll throw him in the next dark wash and we’ll see what happens,” his mother agreed. “He is a cute fellow. They did a much nicer job of making teddy bears in the old days,” she said, admiring the toy. “But aren’t you too old for stuffed animals?”
Monty thought for a moment. Was a first-grade boy too grown up for a teddy bear?
“Oh, no,” he said. “I like him. He has such a friendly face. And I always wanted a teddy bear.”
“What are those books?” Mr. Morris asked with interest. “Books are good even if they are old. And you certainly like to read,” he said, smiling at his son.
But a closer inspection of the books showed that they weren’t so good after all. Several of them were geography books that had been old even when Mrs. Carlton’s son was a boy. “Most of the countries in Africa have the wrong names,” said Mr. Morris as he flipped through the pages of one of the books. There was a science book, and it opened to a page that read, Someday, in the distant future, it’s possible that man will walk on the moon.
“Uh-oh. That’s very old,” said Mrs. Morris. “The first man walked on the moon back in 1969. A good story can never become out of date, but an old nonfiction book can be filled with misinformation.”
“I guess I’ll put these books out with our garbage,” said Monty, sighing.
He looked at the first puzzle box. On the lid was a picture of an aquarium filled with many colorful fish. The box said 200 PIECES. That would be fun to do. Monty dumped the pieces out and began counting. The total came to only 187 pieces. Hoping he’d made a mistake, he counted again, and got only 185. “This has to go in the trash too,” he said sorrowfully. He checked the pieces in the other boxes. None of them was complete.
“At least I got a new wagon. Or a new old wagon,” he told his parents. He gave the wagon a little pull, and the wobbly wheel stopped being wobbly. It fell off the wagon altogether.
“Oh, dear, I’m afraid this is beyond repair,” said Mr. Morris, inspecting the wagon. “The screws are all rusty, and so are the holes where new ones would go. I’m sorry,” he told his son. “Maybe we can get you a brand-new wagon with four good wheels for your birthday.”
“Will it be red?” asked Monty hopefully.
“Of course,” said his dad.
“When are you doing a wash?” Monty asked his mom. It looked as if all his newfound possessions were going out to the garbage. And it was a long way off till his next birthday. But maybe they could still rescue the teddy bear.
“I’ll do one now,” said Mrs. Morris.
The large orange sanitation truck came while the teddy bear was still in the washing machine. The broken chair and the suitcases and the old magazines in front of Mrs. Carlton’s house were picked up. The old books, the puzzles with the missing pieces, and the rusty wagon with three attached wheels and one that had fallen off were picked up too.
At last, the spin cycle of the washing machine was completed, and the teddy bear was taken out, together with the clothing he had been washed with.
“I’ll put him in the dryer for a little while,” said Mrs. Morris.
Monty went down to the basement and watched the teddy bear spinning around inside the dryer. He hoped when it finished spinning, the bear would smell good.
Finally, the buzzer went off. It meant the drying was completed. Mrs. Morris removed the dark clothing and the teddy bear from the machine. She sniffed at the bear and smiled. “What do you think?” she asked Monty.
Monty took a deep breath. “He smells good,” he said happily.
/>
So even though he didn’t get any new books or puzzles or a wagon that day, Monty did get the teddy bear with the friendly smile. It sat on his bed, smelling good. And that night, it slept inside the bed, with Monty. Just looking at it made Monty feel good too.
Not everything Monty saw lying around belonged in the garbage. One Monday just as recess was ending, Monty found a sweater lying in a corner of the playground. It was dark gray and it was near a gray wall, so it would have been easy to miss. In fact, it had been missed by its owner, which is why Monty found it.
On his way back to his classroom, he stopped in the school office and handed the sweater to Mrs. Remsen, the secretary. Under her desk was a carton labeled LOST & FOUND.
“I found this,” he informed her.
Mrs. Remsen took her eyeglasses off the top of her head, where she often left them, and, putting them on, she examined the sweater. “There’s no nametape sewn inside,” she commented. “There’s no brand label either. This is a hand-knit sweater, and someone put a lot of work into making it. I hope the owner has enough sense to come looking.” Then she turned to Monty and smiled at him. “Thanks for being such a good citizen,” she told him.
Monty blushed. He could go for days without anyone noticing him. It wasn’t often that someone at school praised him. So he felt very good, even if he was embarrassed at the same time.
After that, Monty spent a lot of time looking for lost items around the school. Some of them he knew would never be claimed: a chewed pencil, a red mitten with a hole in it, a notebook with its cover torn off. Still, he took them to the office. He liked showing what a good finder he was, even when the stuff he found wasn’t very important. But then the following week, he made several important finds: a pair of boots, a book from the public library, a Yankees baseball cap, and a dollar bill. He thought about keeping the dollar. No one would know if he did. All dollars look the same. Still, he felt he had a responsibility to turn in every lost item that he found.
“Monty, you’re amazing,” said Mrs. Remsen when he turned up for the fourth day in a row. “I’m going to call you Mr. Lost and Found from now on.”
Monty blushed with pleasure. He liked Mrs. Remsen, and when she smiled at him, he could see that she liked him too.
“I can’t believe how careless some of the students are with their property,” the secretary said to him. “If they weren’t attached, I’m sure you’d be finding lost heads rolling around the hallways.”
Monty laughed aloud at Mrs. Remsen’s words.
“Maybe I’ll find a head tomorrow,” he said, joking back.
“Well, keep up the good work,” the secretary told him.
After four days of finding lost possessions, Monty did not find anything the next day, which was Friday. He wondered if people were more careful on Fridays.
When he returned to school after the weekend, Monty looked hard to find something. But there was nothing on the playground, nothing in the lunchroom, and nothing in the boys’ room waiting for him to find it. He didn’t find anything on Tuesday or Wednesday either. By Thursday, Monty thought that Mrs. Remsen would never call him Mr. Lost and Found again.
On Friday, Monty noticed a library book sticking out of Cora Rose’s desk, and he thought about taking it and bringing it to the Lost and Found. The book wasn’t exactly lost, but if he took it and turned it in, then it would be lost. When Cora noticed it was gone, he could tell her to check in the front office, and then the book would be found. But while he was thinking all this through, Cora, who had been off in the girls’ room, returned to her seat. So the whole plan was no longer possible.
Then Monty had another idea. He could take something of his own and bring it to Mrs. Remsen. He considered what he had with him: his backpack, his jacket, his baseball cap, his wristwatch, and his lunch bag.
He remembered that his mother had sewn nametapes into his jacket and cap. She had written his name on the inside of the backpack in indelible ink. There were no identifying marks on his wristwatch, but he couldn’t bear to be parted from it. That left only his lunch bag.
Monty had eaten a bigger breakfast than usual. He’d had some scrambled eggs with a slice of whole wheat toast, a glass of orange juice, and a glass of milk. He didn’t feel the least bit hungry. He wouldn’t need any lunch at all.
He raised his hand. Mrs. Meaney called on him.
“Can I take this lunch bag that I found down to the office?” he asked his teacher. It wasn’t a lie at all. He had found the lunch bag. He’d found it on the counter in the kitchen at home.
“Of course,” Mrs. Meaney said.
Monty took the bag and hurried toward the school office. He looked it over as he went to double-check that his name wasn’t on it. Wouldn’t it be awful if he gave the bag to Mrs. Remsen and she knew it was not really lost at all?
The brown paper bag looked just like a hundred other bags in kids’ backpacks. Reassured, Monty walked into the office with it.
Mrs. Remsen looked up from some writing that she was doing. “Don’t tell me you found that lunch?” she said.
Monty nodded.
“Lunches never go into the Lost and Found box,” the secretary told him. “They begin to smell after a few hours. I’ll leave it right here on my desk. Hopefully the owner will realize it’s missing and come and get it.”
Monty nodded again even though he knew that was not going to happen. He would never come back and admit it was his lunch on Mrs. Remsen’s desk.
As he turned to go, the secretary called out to him. “By the way, Monty,” she said, “no one came looking for a dollar bill all week, so I think you should take this now.” She reached into the Lost and Found box and pulled out the money.
“Wow! Thanks,” said Monty. He put the dollar deep into his pants pocket. He certainly didn’t want to lose it, like its original owner had. He wondered what he should spend it on.
“No. Thank you for being such a responsible citizen,” Mrs. Remsen insisted.
Monty returned to class feeling very good. In fact, he felt so good about himself that he raised his hand and answered a question that he thought he knew the answer to but wasn’t a hundred percent sure. On any other day, he would have let someone else answer. As it happened, he was right, so that made him feel even better. It was turning out to be a wonderful day.
By lunchtime, Monty was feeling very hungry. He couldn’t wait to see what his mother had given him for lunch. He pulled open his backpack to get his bag, then remembered that his lunch wasn’t there. It was sitting on Mrs. Remsen’s desk.
There was no way that Monty was going to retrieve it. Instead, he followed his classmates to the lunchroom. There was so much coming and going and talking and laughing that no one even seemed to notice that Monty didn’t have any lunch. If they saw he wasn’t eating, they may have decided that he’d already finished his lunch or else that he hadn’t started yet. No one noticed but Monty’s stomach. It complained to him as if it hadn’t been given a good breakfast this morning and a perfectly good supper the night before.
Just when Monty thought he might faint from hunger, he remembered the dollar bill in his pocket.
He rushed over to the lunch line and discovered that he had enough money for a bowl of vegetable soup with crackers and also an apple and a container of milk. He ate every bite and drank every drop.
When the kids went outside for recess, he ran along with them. He looked around, but he didn’t find anything lost that day. So he sat on a step near the door to the school, and he thought about how he would spend the dollar that Mrs. Remsen had given him. He was really lucky to have this money. It would be enough for a —
Suddenly it occurred to Monty that he no longer had the dollar. He hadn’t exactly lost it, like the kid who had it before him. But by spending it at lunchtime, he’d lost the chance to spend it on something else. How could he have been so stupid? The more he thought about it, the more Monty realized he’d been silly to hand over his lunch to the Lost and Found. It was
a perfectly good meal that had been wasted.
He got up and walked around the playground. It occurred to him if he had found a dollar bill once, it was possible that he’d find another one. In fact, next time he might even find a five-dollar bill. If he did, he’d certainly be much more careful with it.
When the bell rang for the students to go back inside, Monty discovered that he’d almost forgotten his jacket. Luckily he found it — just where he’d left it, on the step. That was good luck. It wouldn’t be right for Mr. Lost and Found to start losing things.
In class one day, Mrs. Meaney talked about hobbies. “Hobbies are activities that give you pleasure and keep you busy,” she told the students. Very few of the first graders had hobbies. But Cora Rose said she liked to help her mother cook. Mrs. Meaney said cooking was a good hobby.
“My hobby is watching TV,” said Paul Freeman.
“Watching television is fun, but it’s not a good hobby,” Mrs. Meaney told him. “You need a hobby that will keep your brain busy.”
“TV keeps my brain busy,” Paul insisted.
“I play on the computer,” said someone else.
“That’s good,” said Mrs. Meaney. “Some people also like to collect things for a hobby.” The students talked about the types of things that people collected: stamps, coins, postcards, and other things that could be pasted into albums or scrapbooks.
Monty wanted a hobby, but he didn’t want to paste anything into an album. He wanted a different kind of activity. It would be fun to have a hobby to do while he wasn’t in school. Of course, Monty liked to read. It was the one activity that he could do really well. In fact, Mrs. Meaney had reported to his parents that he read on a fourth-grade level. But he was still in first grade and he needed a first-grade activity to keep him busy.
Mostly Monty Page 2
