They lay in back of the snow pile out of the wind.
The snow fell softly on Richard's face.
He closed his eyes.
He stuck out his tongue to catch a flake.
He thought about diamonds and stars and spider webs.
“Have you done any of your real-person story yet?” Matthew asked.
Richard thought about the paper with the red hearts. He shook his head.
It was getting dirty now.
He was still trying to think of someone.
He wished he could think of a terrific person.
He thought about his lion again.
He'd like to write about a lion tamer.
He could call his story “A Lion Tamer's Life.”
He scrunched his eyes closed tighter. He thought about the lion racing around in the jungle.
It was racing after Mrs. Miller, the substitute teacher.
She'd be running as fast as she could. Running on her skinny legs.
Would the lion tamer save her?
Richard started to laugh. Too bad he didn't know any real lion tamers to write about.
“The class is lining up,” said Matthew.
Richard stood up. He dusted the snow off his jacket.
He could never write a story like that.
He'd be in trouble for writing about a teacher being chased by a lion in a jungle.
But he'd have to think of something.
Something very soon.
It was Thursday. Time for special-help reading.
Emily and Alex and Matthew walked down the hall.
Richard stopped to look at the picture of James K. Polk.
James looked as if he were going to fall asleep any minute.
Richard didn't blame him.
The Polk Street School was probably the most boring school in the whole world.
Richard wondered if he could walk all the way to Mrs. Paris's room with his eyes shut.
He leaned his shoulder against the wall.
He closed his eyes.
He inched his way down the hall.
He made believe he was in the middle of a blizzard. The snowflakes were coming down fast.
They looked like spiderwebs and diamonds and stars.
He heard Mrs. Paris's door open and shut.
The other kids must be inside already.
He'd have to hurry a little.
He leaned his shoulder harder against the wall. He made believe he was going to push the wall right over. It would fall into the fifth-grade class.
A brick would bounce right off his sister Holly's head.
Suddenly the wall ended.
Richard fell into the open doorway of Room 110.
His eyes flew open.
“What's the matter with you?” shouted Mrs. Miller, the substitute teacher.
Richard could see Holly slide down in her seat.
She probably didn't want the teacher to know that she had a brother who fell into classrooms.
“'I'm here on a message,” Richard said. “A message for my sister Holly.”
“Make it quick, young man,” said Mrs. Miller. “You've just spoiled my whole social studies lesson.”
Richard walked down the aisle.
He leaned over Holly's desk.
“I'm going to kill you someday,” Holly told him.
Richard made believe he was whispering something.
“What did you say?” Holly asked.
“Nothing,” he answered. “I'm making believe I'm on a message.”
“Get out of here, Richard,” said Holly. She looked over at her friend Joanne. “He's crazy.”
Richard hurried out of the room.
He raced down the hall to Room 100.
Mrs. Paris was sitting at the round table.
Emily and Alex and Matthew were sitting there too.
“Where have you been, Richard?” Mrs. Paris asked.
“In Mrs. Miller's room,” he answered,
“I hope you're not in trouble,” said Mrs. Paris.
Richard shook his head a little. He opened his reader.
They were reading a story about a frog and a princess. It was a very boring story.
Richard hated it.
He looked at the picture of the frog.
He was the ugliest thing in the world.
The princess didn't look so hot either.
“What do you think is going to happen in this story?” Mrs. Paris asked the class.
“The frog is going to kiss the princess,” Emily Arrow said.
“Smack, smack,” said Matthew.
“Do you think she knows he's a prince?” asked Mrs. Paris.
“No,” said Alex. “But I do. If you look at the picture you can almost see a little crown on his head.”
Richard looked at the picture. He looked hard. He didn't almost see a crown on the frog's head. He saw a little leaf from the pond.
“It's only a leaf,” said Richard.
“You have to look very hard,” said Alex.
Richard crossed his eyes.
“Well,” said Mrs. Paris. “If you think hard about the story, what could you guess?”
“I'd guess the frog was a prince,” Emily said. “He was very kind to the princess.”
Richard flipped through the pages to see what the next story was.
He hoped it was better than frogs and princesses.
He hoped it was about baseball or rockets or a mystery.
But the next story had a picture of a little girl.
She was wearing a coat with a hood.
It was a red hood.
There was a wolf in the corner.
He had long yellow teeth.
Richard slammed the book closed.
“Almost time to go,” said Mrs. Paris.
She went to her desk. She opened the drawer and pulled out a bag of dried fruit. “Something to sweeten your day,” she said.
Richard reached into the bag. He took out a pile of raisins. He put them all in his mouth at once.
Just then Mr. Mancina came into the room. He was wearing a green-striped sweater. He had a box in his arms.
“New books,” he told Mrs. Paris.
“Thank goodness,” said Mrs. Paris. “Richard and I are sick of frogs and princesses.”
Richard opened his eyes wide. He wondered how Mrs. Paris knew.
Maybe she looked hard at things like Ms. Rooney.
Mr. Mancina winked at them. Then he went outside.
“Oh, Richard,” Mrs. Paris said. “I gave the others a list. Here's one for you too.”
Richard took the paper. It was the kind from the ditto machine. It had purple writing on it.
Richard put it up to his nose.
He loved the smell of it.
Mrs. Paris smiled. “It's not to eat, Richard. It's a list of things to bring next Tuesday. We're going to do a project.”
Richard followed the others out the door.
He looked at the paper. It was all about kits.
He wondered what a kit was.
Maybe something like a box. Something to put your books in.
He looked at the list.
Old shirts and ties. String. Wrapping paper.
He thought about report cards.
He'd probably get an all-right mark in reading.
In math too.
Then he thought about his real-person project.
He was going to get an F.
He wished he could stay home until that was over.
He wished he could be sick.
He swallowed hard. Maybe he was getting a sore throat. Half the class had had sore throats last week.
Too bad he never got a cold.
He shoved the purple ditto paper into his pocket.
Then he stopped for a sip of water.
Matthew had stopped for water too.
“I've got some great pieces of wood,” Matthew said. “I'll bring two for you.”
Richard nodded.
He
wondered what Matthew was talking about.
Just then Ms. Rooney stuck her head out the door.
“Hurry,” she said.
Richard wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
He hoped they weren't going to work on their real-people story.
He couldn't even find the paper with the hearts on it anymore.
And he was just too tired to look for it.
Richard opened the back door.
He dropped his books on the kitchen floor.
He poked at the fruit on the table.
Nothing but dead apples.
He wished his mother would buy the good red juicy kind instead of the ones with spots.
He opened the back door again.
“Where are you going?” Holly asked.
“Out,” said Richard.
“You're supposed to stay in this week,” Holly said, “until Mommy gets home from work.”
Richard frowned. He had forgotten he was in trouble.
He had forgotten he had lassoed the blue statue. The one on the shelf in the living room.
He had forgotten it had broken into a million pieces.
He put on his mittens.
“Mommy said—” Holly began.
“That's all you know,” Richard told her. “She said if I had to do something for school I could—”
“What do you have to do?” Holly asked. She put her hands on her hips.
Richard wished he could lasso her.
“I have to get some stuff.”
“What stuff?” she asked.
“M.Y.O.B.,” he said. “That means mind your own business.”
“I know what it means,” Holly said. “I'm supposed to be baby-sitting you. You have to tell me …”
Richard took some money off the counter. “I have to get some stuff from the candy store. We're making kits.”
“Well, make sure it isn't candy,” Holly said. “You're going to end up with rotten teeth.”
Richard slammed out the door.
He put half his money in one mitten. He put the other half in his pocket.
That way he wouldn't lose his money all at once.
First he climbed on his old fort in front of the house.
He heard Holly banging on the window.
He jumped off the fort.
At the corner he could see a couple of kids having a snowball fight.
He thought about joining in. He looked back.
Holly was still looking out the window.
The big tattletale.
He went down the block to the candy store.
Inside, Emily and Jill were sitting at the counter. They were having double-dip chocolate cones.
“Want some?” Emily asked. “I had extra money. I cleaned the refrigerator for my mother. I put all the jars on one side. I put all the bottles on the other.”
Richard shook his head.
“I'm trying to do what I'm supposed to,” Emily said. “Tm practicing to be an astronaut like Sally Ride.”
“How do you do that?” Richard asked.
“I do thirteen sit-ups every day. I study hard.”
Richard looked around the store.
He didn't want to think about studying hard.
He didn't want to think about his real-person story.
“I'm doing a movie star,” Jill said.
Emily jumped off the stool. “Are you here for wrapping-paper too?”
“Yes,” he said.
He walked to the back of the store.
He looked through the packages of paper.
It was all stuff with flowers, or babies with no clothes.
Emily held up a package of rainbow paper. “Isn't this cute?”
Richard nodded.
He found some green-and-orange-striped paper.
Then he went back to the counter. He looked at some black plastic spiders in a jar.
They looked horrible.
He wished he had enough money to buy a couple.
He'd put one in Holly's bed.
And one in the bathtub.
Holly would scream and scream.
Maybe she'd run away and never come back.
He paid for the paper and walked outside.
Holly wouldn't run away, he thought.
She wasn't afraid of spiders.
“Who is your real-person story about?” Emily asked.
“I don't know,” Richard said. He raised his shoulders in the air.
He waved good-bye to them.
On the way home he tried to think of someone for his story.
He wished he could think of someone exciting.
Too bad nothing exciting ever happened.
He thought about the spiders.
He wished he could write a story about them.
Real ones.
Giant size.
He'd call his story “Richard the Spider Boy.”
This time Holly would be afraid.
She'd be standing on top of the couch.
She'd beg him to get rid of the spiders.
He'd wait until they had crawled all over the place.
Then he'd lasso them. They'd fall on the floor. They'd break into a zillion pieces.
Just the way the blue statue had.
Suddenly he remembered looseleaf.
He should have gotten some at the candy store.
He thought about going back.
It was too much trouble.
Holly was waiting at the front door for him.
“That's all you got?” she asked. “Some crummy orange-and-green paper?”
Richard went past her.
He threw his jacket and mittens on the chair.
He didn't want to write a story about Holly.
He didn't even want to think about her.
After supper Richard went up to his bedroom.
He looked at the pile of books on the shelf.
Encyclopedias. Old ones.
His Aunt Terri had brought them over last summer. She said she didn't use them anymore.
Richard pulled one off the shelf.
Aunt Terri said you could find out anything from an encyclopedia.
He opened it.
It smelled like Aunt Terri's basement.
Holly poked her head in the door. “Why do you have your nose in that book?” she asked. “Are you crazy?”
Richard pulled his head out of the book.
He slammed the book on his bed. “Get out of my room,” he said.
“Richard's smelling books,” Holly sang. “Richard's smelling …”
“I'm going to get you,” Richard said. He started toward the door.
Holly ran down the hall to her room.
“Richard can't read. He has to smell,” Holly yelled.
“Shut up,” Richard yelled.
His mother came to the stairs. “Will you two stop fighting.” she said.
Richard went back into his room.
He looked at the encyclopedia.
It was the one that had all the D's in it.
Good. D was a nice beginning letter.
He'd find a D person to write about.
A terrific D person.
He'd get the best report card in the class.
Mr. Mancina would be thrilled.
He opened the book.
D-o-n-i-z-e-t-t-i.
Richard had never heard of him.
He couldn't even say his name.
It was hard to read about what he had done.
Richard stared at the story a long time.
There was a picture of Donizetti on top of the page.
He had a mustache. His hair was flying all over the place.
Richard thought he'd try for someone else.
He flipped the pages backward.
Stephen Decatur.
Stephen's picture was even bigger than Donizetti's.
It was a terrific picture.
Steven was standing on a ship.
He was wearing skinny white pants.
He had a jacket with lots of gold strings.
Stephen looked important.
He must have done something famous.
Richard stood in front of his mirror.
He made believe he was standing on a ship.
He made a telescope with his hands.
“Watch out,” he said in a deep voice. “I am Stephen D.”
“Watch out,” said a voice behind him. “You are a Froot Loop.”
It was Holly.
Richard ran down the hall after her.
But Holly raced into the bathroom. She locked the door.
Richard went back into his bedroom.
Then he thought about the looseleaf. He poked his head out the door.
Holly was still in the bathroom.
Quickly he went into Holly's room.
“Mother,” Holly was yelling. “Make Richard leave me alone.”
“Richard,” his mother called.
Richard looked around for the looseleaf.
Holly came out of the bathroom.
“Mother,” she yelled. “Richard's in my room.”
“I'm just looking for looseleaf,” he said.
“Again?” Holly put her hands on her hips. “You never have anything.”
“Just give me one piece,” Richard said.
“I wouldn't even give you the holes in the looseleaf,” Holly said. She started to laugh.
Richard went back into his bedroom.
He looked under the bed for some paper.
Then he looked in his dresser.
There was a crumpled-up piece under his pajamas. It had some writing on it.
He'd have to erase it.
He punched his pillow and sat down on it.
He leaned the paper on the encyclopedia. Then he pulled his pencil out of his pocket.
It had a terrible eraser.
It made the paper look black.
It was a good thing he had to erase only three lines.
After he finished erasing, he pulled the encyclopedia closer.
He wished he could read what it said. He began to write.
Richard walked down the street. He was carrying his father's old blue shirt.
He held the green-and-orange paper under one arm.
He held his Stephen D. paper under the other.
“Wait for me,” Holly shouted. “You're not supposed to cross Linden Avenue alone.”
Richard looked around. He hoped no one had heard her.
She always had to make him look like a baby.
The biggest baby in the Polk Street School.
After they had crossed Linden Avenue, he waited at the corner.
Emily and Jill would come in a minute.
Lazy Lions, Lucky Lambs Page 2
