Page 118 – 122
Page 118
Chapter 30
Bradley remained
in his seat
after everyone else
had gone out
to recess.
He walked
to Mrs. Ebbel’s desk.
She was
sorting papers.
“Mrs. Ebbel,”
he said timidly.
“May I use
the hall pass?
I have to see
the counselor.”
She looked up.
“Please.”
Normally Mrs. Ebbel
would never allow
Bradley Chalkers loose
in the halls,
but something
about the way
he asked
must have changed
her mind.
“All right, Bradley,”
she said,
then caught herself.
“But if you’re bad,
you’ll never be allowed
in the halls
of this school again!”
“Thank you.”
He took the hall pass
off the hook
behind her desk
and headed
out the door.
“You’re welcome,”
Mrs. Ebbel
said to herself.
He knocked
on the door
to Carla’s office.
“How nice
to see you today,
Bradley,”
she greeted him.
“I appreciate
your coming
to see me.”
He shook her hand,
then they sat around
the round table.
She was wearing
the shirt
with the squiggles
on it.
It was the one
she wore
the first time
he saw her.
He liked it,
but not as much
as the one
with the mice.
“I did my homework
last night,”
he said.
Carla beamed.
“I’m so proud of – ”
Page 119
“I ripped it up.”
“What?”
“I ripped it up.
I brought it
to school,
and I was
just about
to put it
on Mrs. Ebbel’s desk,
but then
I ripped it up.”
“Why did – ?”
Carla started
to ask.
“Why did
I rip it up?”
he asked her first.
“I don’t know,
why did you?”
He shrugged.
She shrugged.
They both giggled.
“I was afraid
you’d be mad,”
Bradley said
when he
stopped giggling.
Carla shook
her head.
“You did
your homework,
that’s the important thing.
I’m so very proud
of you,
Bradley Chalkers.”
“I’m going to do
all my homework,
from now on,”
he promised.
“That’s wonderful!”
“But what if
I keep ripping
it up?”
he asked.
“Why would you
want to do that?”
“I don’t know.
I didn’t think
I wanted to
rip it up,
today.”
“The main thing
is that
you did it.
And you learned
some things
by doing it,
didn’t you?”
“What ‘of’ means,”
said Bradley.
“What ‘of’ means?”
Carla repeated.
“Times,” said Bradley.
She stared at him,
baffled.
“Oh, right!”
she said,
as it all
suddenly connected
for her.
“Okay,
so even though
you ripped up
your homework,
you still remember
what you learned.
Page 120
You didn’t rip up
your memory.
And when Mrs. Ebbel
gives the next
arithmetic test,
you’ll know
how to answer
the questions.”
“If they don’t
change the rules,”
said Bradley.
“What rules?”
“Like, what if
they decide
to make of
mean subtraction?”
“They won’t
change the rules,”
Carla assured him,
“whoever they are.”
“But what if
I rip up my test,
too?”
he asked.
Carla looked
at him
as if
he was being silly.
“Has Mrs. Ebbel
given you
any homework
for tomorrow?”
she asked.
“Tomorrow’s Saturday.”
“Okay,
for Monday?”
“No, we never
have homework
over the weekend.”
He spoke
like an expert,
like he’d
been doing homework
for years.
“But we have
a book report
due next week.
Only…”
“Only what?”
“I don’t
have a book.
And Mrs. Wilcott
won’t let me
check out any
from the library.”
“Well, let’s see,”
said Carla.
“Do you think
you might know
somebody else
who might let you
borrow a book?
Think hard now.”
Bradley looked around
at all the books
in her office.
“May I borrow
one of yours?”
he asked.
“Please.
I won’t scribble
in it.”
Carla walked around
the table,
then picked out
a book
from a stack
on top of
one of
her bookcases.
“It’s my favorite,”
she said
as she gave it
to Bradley.
Page 121
He read
the title
and laughed.
My Parents
Didn’t Steal an Elephant,
by Uriah C. Lasso.
He opened
to page one
and read
the first sentence.
I hate tomato juice.
He thought
that was
a funny sentence
to start a book.
He continued reading.
Every morning,
Aunt Ruth
gives me a glass
of tomato juice,
and every morning
I tell her
I hate it.
“Fine, Dumpling,”
she always says,
“don’t drink it.”
She calls me Dumpling.
Uncle Boris
calls me Corn Flake.
They’re crazy.
One of these days
I’m afraid
they’re going to
try to
eat me.
He glanced up
at Carla,
then returned
to the book.
My parents
are in jail.
They got arrested
for stealing
an elephant
from the circus.
Only
they didn’t
do it.
If they stole
an elephant
I’d know about it,
wouldn’t I?
I mean,
if your parents
stole an elephant,
don’t you think
you’d know about it?
I think
the elephant
just ran away.
Her master
was always
mean to her.
He whipped her
and made her
do stupid tricks.
My parents
used to complain
about that
a lot.
That’s why
everybody thinks
they stole her.
So, anyway,
that’s why
I have to live
with my crazy Aunt Ruth
and Uncle Boris.
If you ask me,
they belong
in the circus.
They’re crazy!
Uncle Boris
always smokes
a cigar.
It just hangs out
of the corner
of his mouth.
Whenever
he kisses my aunt,
Page 122
he swings the cigar
out of the way
with his tongue,
and kisses her
out of the side
of his mouth.
I bet you think
Aunt Ruth
doesn’t like it
when he
kisses her
that way.
Wrong.
She always laughs
when he does it.
Sometimes
she smokes
a cigar, too.
I told you
they were crazy.
Look!
He even smokes
his cigar
while he’s drinking
tomato juice.
The bell rang.
Bradley was amazed
by how quickly
the time had passed.
“Do you want
to have lunch
together again?”
he asked.
“I’m sorry.
I’m having lunch
with the president
of the school board,”
said Carla.
“I’d much rather
eat lunch with you.”
He didn’t mind
too much.
At least
he had her book
to read.
They shook hands,
then he walked back
to class.
He placed
the hall pass
back on the hook
and took his seat.
He knew
he’d write
a good book report
because he had
such a good book
to read.
I just hope
I don’t rip it up.
The End
If they don’t
change the rules,
said Bradley.
What rules?
Like, what if they decide
to make of mean subtraction?
They won’t change the rules,
Carla assured him,
whoever they are.
But what if
I rip up my test,
too?
he asked.
Carla looked at him
as if he was being silly.
Has Mrs. Ebbel
given you any homework
for tomorrow?
she asked.
Tomorrow’s Saturday.
Okay,
for Monday?
No, we never have homework
over the weekend.
He spoke
like an expert,
like he’d been
doing homework
for years.
But we have
a book report
due next week.
Only…
Only what?
I don’t have a book.
And Mrs. Wilcott
won’t let me
check out any
from the library.
Well, let’s see,
said Carla.
Do you think
you might know
somebody else
who might let you
borrow a book?
Think hard now.
Bradley looked around
at all the books
in her office.
May I borrow
one of yours?
he asked.
Please.
I won’t scribble in it.
Carla walked
around the table,
then picked out a book
from a stack
on top of
one of
her bookcases.
It’s my favorite,
she said
as she gave it
to Bradley.
He read the title
and laughed.
My Parents
Didn’t Steal an Elephant,
by Uriah C. Lasso.
He opened
to page one
and read
the first sentence.
I hate tomato juice.
He thought
that was a funny sentence
to start a book.
He continued reading.
Every morning,
Aunt Ruth
gives me a glass
of tomato juice,
and every morning
I tell her
I hate it.
Fine, Dumpling,
she always says,
don’t drink it.
She calls me Dumpling.
Uncle Boris
calls me Corn Flake.
They’re crazy.
One of these days
I’m afraid
they’re going to
try to eat me.
He glanced up
at Carla,
then returned
to the book.
My parents
are in jail.
They got arrested
for stealing
an elephant
from the circus.
Only
they didn’t do it.
If they stole
an elephant
I’d know about it,
wouldn’t I?
I mean,
if your parents
stole an elephant,
don’t you think
you’d know about it?
I think
the elephant
just ran away.
Her master
was always
mean to her.
He whipped her
and made her do
stupid tricks.
My parents
used to complain
about that
a lot.
That’s why
everybody thinks
they stole her.
So, anyway,
that’s why
I have to live
with my crazy Aunt Ruth
and Uncle Boris.
If you ask me,
they belong
in the circus.
They’re crazy!
Uncle Boris
always smokes
a cigar.
It just hangs out
of the corner
of his mouth.
Whenever
he kisses my aunt,
he swings the cigar
out of the way
with his tongue,
and kisses her
out of the side
of his mouth.
I bet you think
Aunt Ruth
doesn’t like it
when he kisses her
that way.
Wrong.
She always laughs
when he does it.
Sometimes
she smokes
a cigar, too.
I told you
they were crazy.
Look!
He even smokes
his cigar
while he’s drinking
tomato juice.
The bell rang.
Bradley was amazed
by how quickly
the time had passed.
Do you want
to have lunch
together again?
he asked.
I’m sorry.
I’m having lunch
with the president
of the school board,
said Carla.
I’d much rather
eat lunch with you.
He didn’t mind
too much.
At least
he had her book
to read.
They shook hands,
then he walked back
to class.
He placed
the hall pass
back on the hook
and took his seat.
He knew
he’d write
a good book report
because he had
such a good book
to read.
I just hope
I don’t rip it up.
“If they don’t change the rules,”
said Bradley.
“What rules?”
“Like, what if they decide to make of mean
subtraction?”
“They won’t change the rules,” Carla assured him,
“whoever they are.”
“But what if I rip up my test, too?” he asked.
Carla looked at him as if he was being silly. “Has Mrs.
Ebbel given you any homework for tomorrow?” she asked.
“Tomorrow’s Saturday.”
“Okay, for Monday?”
“No, we never have homework over the weekend.” He
spoke like an expert, like he’d been doing homework for
years. “But we have a book report due next week. Only…”
“Only what?”
“I don’t have a book. And Mrs. Wilcott won’t let me
check out any from the library.”
“Well, let’s see,” said Carla. “Do you think you might
know somebody else who might let you borrow a book? Think
hard now.”
Bradley looked around at all the books in her office.
“May I borrow one of yours?” he asked. “Please. I won’t
scribble in it.”
Carla walked around the table, then picked out a book
from a stack on top of one of her bookcases. “It’s my
favorite,” she said as she gave it to Bradley.
Page 121
He read the title and laughed. My Parents Didn’t Steal
an Elephant, by Uriah C. Lasso.
He opened to page one and read the first sentence.
I hate tomato juice.
He thought that was a funny sentence to start a book. He
continued reading.
Every morning, Aunt Ruth gives me a glass of tomato
juice, and every morning I tell her I hate it. “Fine,
Dumpling,” she always says, “don’t drink it.”
She calls me Dumpling. Uncle Boris calls me Corn
Flake. They’re crazy. One of these days I’m afraid they’re
going to try to eat me.
He glanced up at Carla, then returned to the book.
My parents are in jail. They got arrested for stealing an
elephant from the circus. Only they didn’t do it. If they
stole an elephant I’d know about it, wouldn’t I? I mean, if
your parents stole an elephant, don’t you think you’d
know about it?
I think the elephant just ran away. Her master was
always mean to her. He whipped her and made her do
stupid tricks. My parents used to complain about that a
lot. That’s why everybody thinks they stole her.
So, anyway, that’s why I have to live with my crazy
Aunt Ruth and Uncle Boris. If you ask me, they belong in
the circus. They’re crazy!
Uncle Boris always smokes a cigar. It just hangs out
of the corner of his mouth. Whenever he kisses my aunt,
Page 122
he swings the cigar out of the way with his tongue, and
kisses her out of the side of his mouth.
I bet you think Aunt Ruth doesn’t like it when he
kisses her that way. Wrong. She always laughs when he
does it. Sometimes she smokes a cigar, too. I told you
they were crazy.
Look! He even smokes his cigar while he’s drinking
tomato juice.
The bell rang. Bradley was amazed by how quickly the
time had passed. “Do you want to have lunch together again?”
he asked.
“I’m sorry. I’m having lunch with the president of the
school board,” said Carla. “I’d much rather eat lunch with
you.”
He didn’t mind too much. At least he had her book to
read.
They shook hands, then he walked back to class. He
placed the hall pass back on the hook and took his seat.
He knew he’d write a good book report because he had
such a good book to read. I just hope I don’t rip it up