Loser by Jerry Spinelli Read Free Book Online

hanging from his earmuffs that he decided to become a mailman. He watched his father shake the snow and ice from himself, and he said, “Wow, Dad! Was it hard?” He has never forgotten the answer. His father picked an icicle from his hat, stuck it in his mouth like a toothpick and said, “Nah. No problem. Piece a cake.” From that day on, when he sees stormy weather out the classroom window, he thinks of his dad trudging heroically through the blizzard saying, “Piece a cake…piece a cake…”
    The night before, Donald went to bed fervently wishing for a blizzard the next day. When he awoke he ran to the window and was met by pure sunshine. He searched sky and ground for evidence of bad weather, but could not find so much as a solitary hailstone.
    â€œBut you know,” says his father, “weather isn’t the only thing you have to worry about.”
    â€œIt’s not?”
    â€œNo way. There’s biting dogs and wild cats. There’s banana peels you can slip on. There’s turtles you can trip over and break your nose. There’s rhinos.”
    Donald boggles. “Rhinos?”
    â€œSure. Who says a rhino can’t escape from the zoo and show up on your mail route? Do you know of any law that says that can’t happen?”
    Donald couldn’t think of a single law against it. “I guess not,” he says.
    His father nods. “There you go. It’s a dangerous world out there. A mailman has more than just snow and rain to deal with.”
    Donald beams. “Yahoo!” He looks out the window, relieved to know the world is not as safe as it appears to be. “Is lunchtime over yet, Dad?”
    Mr. Z consults his watch. “Almost. Just enough time to talk about the Waiting Man.”
    Donald stares. “Huh?”
    â€œThe Waiting Man. You’ll see him in the next block, the nine hundred block. Nine twenty-four Willow. You can see him in the window behind the mailbox.”
    Donald is intrigued. “Is he waiting for the mail?”
    â€œNo, he’s waiting for his brother. I hear he’s been waiting for him for thirty-two years. His brother went away to fight in the Vietnam War and was MIA and never came back.”
    Donald senses a sadness somewhere in the distance. “What’s ‘MIA’?”
    â€œMissing in action. It means they’re pretty sure he was killed but they can’t find his body.”
    â€œAre you pretty sure, Dad?”
    His father looks out the window. He nods slowly. “I’m pretty sure.”
    â€œIsn’t the Waiting Man pretty sure?”
    â€œI guess not.”
    Thirty-two years . Donald cannot imagine it. Donald cannot wait more than thirty-two seconds for anything. Of course, a brother isn’t just anything. Thirty-two years. Would he wait that long for a brother? Would he wait that long for Polly?
    His father claps his hands. “Okay. Enough of this chitchat. Time to hit the trail. Let’s go! People are waiting for their mail!”
    Donald scrambles into the backseat. Hestraps on the bag, plunks on his helmet and hits the sidewalk.
    As it turns out, no escaped rhinos are out and about this particular day. No turtles either. Not even a banana peel. But Donald does see the Waiting Man. He’s a face in the window next to the numbers white against the brick: 924. He appears to be wearing pajamas. His white hair is thick around his ears and wispy on top. He is looking up the street, in the direction that Donald came from. When Donald stands on the top step, he is close enough to reach out and touch the window. But the Waiting Man does not turn, does not seem to know Donald is there. He merely stares unblinking up the street.
    Donald watches the Waiting Man for much longer than he realizes. He does not move away until, in his own mind, he has waited longer than he had ever waited for anything in his life.
    He is at the next house before he realizes he has