Bases Loaded by Mike Knudson Read Free Book Online Page B

the teacher would come in handy, I figured. I would get to do all the fun stuff.
    â€œBrad,” Mom said, passing right over me. “Can you please take these papers to Ms. Adams in the office? She’ll know what they are.”
    I couldn’t believe it. I sat there frozen, my hand still in the air. What was that about? Was I getting punished for not telling the truth quickly enough earlier? Did my mom forget I was her son?
    â€œRaymond,” Mom finally called out. “May I see you for a moment?”
    â€œOooh, busted,” David said as I stood up. Slowly, I dragged my feet to her desk. I couldn’t believe it was still only the first day of Mom being my substitute. It already seemed like forever.
    â€œHi, sweetie,” Mom started. I heard a few kids giggle and repeat “sweetie” under their breath. Mom noticed too. “Let’s talk out in the hall,” she said.
    â€œI will be right back,” she told the class. “Please keep working on your fractions and decimals.” I followed Mom out into the hall and down by the front doors of the school.
    â€œI’m sorry, sweetie,” Mom said with a sad look on her face. “I know you’re disappointed that I didn’t call on you to run my errand to the office, but just because you’re my son, it wouldn’t be fair for me to call on you for all the fun things. Do you understand?” she asked.
    â€œNot really,” I answered. “I mean, who cares about fair? You’re my mom. I should get some privileges for you being our teacher.”
    â€œWell, I’m sorry, sweetie,” she said, putting her arm around my shoulder. “I’ll try to find something fun for you to do sometime this week.” Then she gave me a kiss on the top of my head.
    â€œWhoa, not in school, Mom! Someone might see you! Remember my baseball game last summer?” But it was too late. Brad Shaw had been walking back from the office and saw the whole thing. I turned just in time to see him snickering as he went back into the classroom. “Great,” I said under my breath.
    â€œOf course I remember your baseball game last year. And I still don’t understand it,” she said. “Since when has it been a crime for a mother to give her son a kiss for good luck? Are you embarrassed that your mother loves you?”
    â€œIt’s not that,” I said. “It’s just that, you know, it’s not cool when you’re my age to have your mom give you a kiss in public.”
    â€œWell, if people don’t think you’re cool because I gave you a kiss, then you don’t need to be cool as far as I’m concerned.”

    What’s that supposed to mean? I thought to myself. I did want to be cool. And I sure didn’t want to give up being cool just so I could get a kiss on the top of my head.
    â€œBut, Mom,” I said. “It’s just that people make fun—”
    â€œOh, don’t worry about what people say, sweetie,” she said, cutting me off.
    â€œAnd by the way,” I said, “when you call me ‘sweetie’ in class, I was wondering if maybe . . . you know . . .”
    â€œSay no more, sweetie—I mean, Raymond. For the next week, I promise I will not embarrass you anymore.” I didn’t believe her, since embarrassing me seemed to be part of her nature, but I hoped for the best.
    â€œThanks, Mom,” I said. Then we both returned to class. She kept her word and didn’t embarrass me for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, there were still four more days left.

8
    A Stinky Lunch
    THE NEXT DAY started out well. Mom passed back our exercises on fractions and decimals. I got 100 percent on mine. Then she asked David to come to her desk while we all worked on the new math assignment. It looked like Mom was going over his assignment with him. During our government unit in social studies, she let us all write letters to the