He climbed on a snow pile.
It was beginning to melt.
He could feel his boots sinking in.
His socks were going to be soaked.
Richard waved his father's shirt around.
It looked like a flag.
He thought about being on a ship.
Stephen D.'s ship.
He wondered if it was an aircraft carrier.
He didn't think so.
Stephen probably lived in the olden days.
Richard thought about being the captain of a ship. He'd be waving planes in.
Hundreds of them.
Too bad he couldn't write that for his real-person story.
Richard Best was the best waver in of airplanes, he'd say. Richard was the captain.
Too bad it wasn't true.
Too bad everyone would laugh at him if he said that.
“Hey, Beast,” Emily yelled.
Richard jumped off the snow pile.
His Stephen paper flew out of his hand.
It landed in the slush.
He picked it up with two fingers.
“Yucks,” said Emily.
“Double yucks,” said Jill.
“It was my real-person story,” Richard said.
He waved the paper around in the air.
Drops of water rolled off the bottom.
“Maybe you could do it over,” Emily said. “In the classroom.”
Richard looked at the paper.
He could hardly see the writing.
“Who was your real person?” Jill asked.
“Stephen …” Richard began, and stopped.
“Stephen who?” Emily asked.
“Stephen I don't know,” Richard said. “I forgot.”
“How could you write about someone …” Jill began.
“And not know his last name?” Emily said.
Richard sighed. It would take forever to find that page in the D encyclopedia again.
“You're supposed to know all about him,” Emily said.
“I copied him out of an encyclopedia,” Richard said. “The words were hard. It took a long time.”
Jill opened her mouth into a little O. “I don't think you're supposed to do that.”
“Not the whole thing,” said Emily.
Richard opened his two fingers.
His Stephen paper sailed into the slush again.
He was going to get the worst report card in the Polk Street School. He'd probably be left back again.
And all because of a real-person story.
“Let's go,” Jill said. “I think we'll be late.”
Richard walked behind Jill and Emily.
He felt angry at everything.
He even felt angry at Emily.
She was supposed to be his friend.
She wasn't supposed to tell him not to copy.
They went down the block toward school.
Matthew was standing on the top step. “Hey, Beast,” he yelled. “Look what I've got.” He waved a bunch of sticks in the air.
“Hi, Matthew,” Richard said.
“I finished my real-person story,” said Matthew. “It's a great one.”
“Good,” said Richard. He tried to look glad.
“Who did you write about?” Jill asked.
“Guess,” said Matthew.
“The president?” Jill asked.
Matthew shook his head.
“I hope it wasn't Sally Ride, the astronaut,” Emily said.
“St. Patrick,” said Matthew. “This month is St. Patrick's Day. March seventeenth.”
“That's a great one,” said Jill.
“Yes,” said Richard. St. Patrick was even better than Stephen what's-his-name.
“Wait till you hear it,” said Matthew. “I have to go to the boys' room,” Richard said.
He banged open the door.
If only he had thought of St. Patrick first.
If only he could think of somebody else.
Richard pulled out his old lion drawing.
He drew a tree next to the lion.
He put new leaves on the tree.
Emily raised her hand. “Can I read my real-person story?”
“It's not due until tomorrow,” Ms. Rooney said.
“I'll read it anyway,” Emily said.
Ms. Rooney smiled. “All right.”
Emily went to the front.
“Sally Ride was the first American woman to go up in space,” Emily read.
Richard wished he had more paper. He had forgotten to buy some again.
“Sally's spaceship was called Challenger,” said Emily.
Richard looked around.
Matthew was playing with the sticks.
Wayne O'Brien was reading a book.
“Sally Ride floated a bag of jelly beans out in space,” Emily said.
Matthew stopped playing with the sticks.
Wayne stopped reading.
They both looked at Emily.
“Then,” said Emily, “she pulled them back into the Challenger. She used a big hook arm.”
Richard wondered if Sally Ride had eaten the jelly beans after the flight.
“Very interesting, Emily,” said Ms. Vincent.
“Yes,” said Ms. Rooney. “Good work.”
Ms. Rooney looked up at the clock. “Time for special-help reading,” she said.
Richard and Emily and Matthew and Alex went down the hall.
Richard carried his father's old shirt.
He balanced the green-and-orange paper on his head.
At Holly's class he stopped to look in the window.
He stood there waggling his tongue until she looked up. Everyone else was looking too.
Holly's face turned red.
Richard stuck his finger in his nose.
Then he gave Matthew a little punch.
They crossed the hall. They stopped to look out the window.
“The snow pile is almost gone,” Matthew said.
“There's a little purple flower on my lawn,” Emily said.
Mrs. Paris stuck her head out the door. “Better hurry,” she said. “We have a lot to do today.”
They went into the reading room.
Richard sat down at the round table.
“Are we going to make kits now?” he asked.
Everyone laughed. Everyone except Mrs. Paris.
“Kites,” she said. “Kites for the March wind.”
Richard ducked his head.
“You forgot your silent e,” said Alex. “Kites, not kits.”
“Right,” said Richard.
He curled up the edge of the green-and-orange-paper package.
He wished he were home.
He wished he were a million skillion miles away from everybody laughing.
“We all make mistakes,” said Mrs. Paris. “Tm a terrible kite-maker. I asked Mr. Mancina to come in and help.”
Mrs. Paris gave out little balls of string.
The door opened. It was Mr. Mancina.
He was wearing a skinny striped tie.
He twirled it around.
All the special-help readers laughed.
Mr. Mancina picked up two sticks.
He held them in the air.
“Cross one over the other,” he said. “Then tie them together in the middle.”
Matthew gave Richard two sticks.
“Spread out,” said Mrs. Paris.
Richard and Matthew knelt down on the floor.
Richard started to tie his two sticks together.
“The Chinese people love kites,” Mr. Mancina said. “They even have a kite day.”
He held up his crossed sticks.
He took a ball of string.
He wound the string along the four ends of the sticks. “These are your kite bones,” he said.
Richard made kite bones too.
“The Chinese Kite Day is on the ninth day of the ninth month,” Mr. Mancina said. He picked up a piece of red paper.
> “Now we'll cover the kite bones,” he said. “We'll cut the paper so it fits over the whole thing. Then we'll paste the edges on the paper over the string.”
Richard looked at his paper.
It was going to make a terrific kite.
It was going to be the best.
“There's an old Chinese story,” said Mr. Mancina. “Once upon a time a man had a dream. He dreamed that something was going to happen to his house.”
Mr. Mancina began to cut the red paper.
Richard began to cut his orange-and-green paper too. It was tearing a little bit.
He hoped no one would notice.
Mr. Mancina looked up. “The man took his family away from the house. They flew kites all day.”
“Then what?” Emily asked.
“Well,” said Mr. Mancina. He folded the red paper around his kite bones. “That night the man found out his house had been destroyed.”
“Good thing his family was all right,” said Emily.
“Was he a real person?” Richard asked. He wondered if he could use the man for a real-person story.
Mr. Mancina smiled. “It's just an old story, I think. But once a year the Chinese celebrate. They fly kites all day.”
Mr. Mancina put some glue around the edges of the kite. He held it in the air.
“Tomorrow,” said Mrs. Paris, “we'll put the string on the end of the kites. We'll fly them outside.”
Tomorrow, thought Richard. Tomorrow was St. Patrick's Day. He picked up the scissors.
He had to cut a kite tail from his father's blue shirt.
Tomorrow, he thought again. It was the last day for real-people stories.
He had to do something.
Otherwise his report card would be ruined.
After lunch Richard walked down the hall.
He stopped at the water fountain.
Holly was there ahead of him.
“How come you have to make faces in my classroom window?” she asked. “How come you have to be such a show-off?”
“Listen,” Richard said. “I have to ask you something.”
Holly wiped some water off her mouth. “What?”
“Can someone get left back twice?” Richard asked.
Holly opened her mouth.
“Can someone get expelled for not doing something?”
“You'd better not,” Holly said. “Mommy will be mad as anything.”
“I can't help it,” Richard said.
Holly shook her frizzy brown hair. “Just my luck to have a brother like you.”
Holly looked as if she were going to cry. “I hope my friends don't hear that you're so dumb.”
Richard didn't say anything. He guessed he wasn't such a great brother.
He thought about falling into Holly's classroom the other day.
He thought about Holly having to tell everyone that her brother had been left back again.
“It's all your own fault, Richard,” Holly said. “You're always forgetting to do what you're supposed to. You're always too lazy.”
Richard swallowed.
Holly started to walk away. “I bet you don't even have looseleaf yet.”
“I'm getting some today,” Richard said. “Right after school.”
Holly looked back over her shoulder. “Are you scared?”
Richard nodded.
Holly came back to the water fountain. “What's the matter, anyway?”
Richard ducked his head. “I can't find a real person for my real-person story.”
“Is that all?”
“That's a lot,” Richard said.
“How about George Washington?” Holly asked.
“Noah is—”
“Then James Polk.”
Richard shook his head. “Someone—”
“Tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day,” said Holly. “How—”
Mrs. Miller stuck her nose out the door. “Young lady. Get back in the classroom.”
Just then Mr. Mancina walked by. “Hi, kids,” he said.
Holly looked at Richard. “How about Mr.—” she began.
Richard opened his eyes wide. He took a quick sip of water.
He squirted a little at Holly.
“Rich … ard,” Holly said.
Richard raced down the hall.
“Thanks, Holly Polly,” he yelled.
He slid into the classroom.
He stopped at Linda Lorca's desk and asked her for a piece of paper.
Then he went back to his seat.
Ms. Rooney had told them to look hard at things.
Too bad he hadn't looked harder at Mr. Mancina.
He closed his eyes for a minute.
Then he began to write.
My real person is Mr. Mancina. He is the princibel. He likes Egg McMuffins He has different kinds of ties like red ones and skinny ones.
Richard looked at his paper. He remembered Mr. Mancina coming into the special-help reading class.
Mr. Mancina buys books for the school. He makes kites. He tells Chinese stories. He is the best.
Richard sat back.
Terrific.
Maybe it was because he was looking hard at Mr. Mancina and didn't even know it.
Just then Ms. Vincent walked by.
She leaned over his shoulder. 'That's neat, Richard,” she said. “Super.”
Ms. Vincent patted him on the shoulder. Then she went to the front of the room.
Matthew looked back at him. “I think we can play ball after school.”
“It's almost spring,” said Emily. “March is going out like a lamb.”
“Can someone lend me some paper?” Richard asked.
Dawn gave him a piece. It had pink flowers on top.
“It's the last time,” Richard said. “I'm getting paper today.”
“Good,” said Dawn.
“I'm going to draw a picture for Holly,” Richard said. “Maybe I'll draw a lamb.”
“Baaa,” said Matthew.
Richard gave him a little poke. “Baaa,” he said too.
Then he picked up his crayon.
Published by Yearling, an imprint of Random House Children's Books a division of Random House, Inc., New York
Text copyright © 1985 by Patricia Reilly Giff
Illustrations copyright © 1985 by Blanche Sims
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.
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eISBN: 978-0-307-53701-0
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