Ellray Jakes the Dragon Slayer by Sally Warner Read Free Book Online Page B

That’s how careful he is.
    Dad picks up one of the rose bushes and examinesits metal tag. “Telling someone to ‘show some pride’ would have been like commanding a bare root rose to ‘show some flowers, and make it snappy’ last Christmas, I suppose,” he adds, sliding me a look. “When it was just too soon in the year for that to happen.”
    “I didn’t say I’d
command
them,” I object, looking away.
    “The roses you see now existed somewhere deep inside those roots, the way pride exists somewhere in Alfie,” Dad says, placing a rose bush on our cartwith so much care that it makes me feel jealous for a second. “And if we had planted one of those bare root roses correctly last January, say, and taken good care of it, the flowers would have emerged in their own good time. We wouldn’t have had to teach that bare root rose a thing, just the way we won’t need to tell this rose bush what to do. Or tell your little sister how to be her bravest and truest self.”

    “Huh,” I say, not really convinced—because he doesn’t know Alfie.
    Well, he
does
know Alfie. Obviously. She’s his kid.
    And maybe Alfie
is
a little like a bare root rose. And maybe the right kind of pride will burst out of her some day—probably along with a lot more thorns.
    But Dad does not know that she’s about to make a fool of herself—or that now, she has no pride at all, even though he and Mom are taking very good care of her.
    So I’m gonna have to step in—step up,
man up
—and defend my little sister.
    Suzette Monahan, here comes ELLRAY JAKES THE DRAGON SLAYER!

12
UPROAR
    “Eat a little more of your sandwich, sweetheart,” Mom tells Alfie at lunch, after Dad and I have gotten back from doing our Saturday morning chores.
    “Or eat
some
, at least,” my dad chimes in, looking at Alfie’s tuna sandwich, which has been trimmed down to four triangles with the crusts cut off. It’s barely there. “Your friend Suzanne will be here in less than an hour.”
    “It’s
Suzette
, Warren,” my mom whispers, sounding shocked, as if maybe the dreaded Suzette can hear this terrible mistake from wherever it is she lives in Oak Glen.
    On Green and Scaly Lane, maybe.
    “Oh. Excuse
me
,” my dad says, trying to be funny. But really, all of us—except for Dad, who I don’t think remembers the story of Suzette’s one other visit to our house—are feeling weird aboutSuzette coming over again, but each for our own reasons.
    Alfie probably feels weird because she wants everything to go perfectly, so she can spend the rest of her life as a visible human being.
    I think Mom feels weird because she loves Alfie, and she knows this playdate is important to her. But Mom also doesn’t want to have a bossy four-year-old like Suzette giving her any grief about snacks, or wrecking everything by demanding to be taken home early if she doesn’t get her way.
    And I feel weird because I know what’s really up, that Suzette is basically planning to steal one of Alfie’s best dolls.
And
because I have a secret two-part plan to keep Alfie from giving in to Suzette, only I’m not sure if I can pull it off. See, I’ve already had some experience with her.
    “Alfie, eat something,” Mom is saying again.
    Alfie is still drooped over her sandwich. In an instant, I realize what the problem is. Alfie told me once that after she’d brought a tuna sandwich to the “Welcome, Kreative Learners!” picnic, Suzette told kids that she smelled like cat food. Alfie must be worried about smelling like a cat again.
    “Can I eat Alfie’s tuna sandwich—because I’m so hungry?” I ask, reaching for my little sister’s plate. “I’ll make Alfie a peanut butter and honey sandwich. She’s way too excited for tuna.”
    This makes no sense at all, but no one calls me on it, even though the whole making-whatever-you-want-for-lunch thing goes against family rules.
    But this is a special occasion, I guess. Mom seems to think so, anyway. “I suppose you