Otis Spofford by Beverly Cleary Read Free Book Online Page A

of the steps. “My mother says she won’t have a rat in the house and I have to get rid of Mutt right away. I thought I’d give him to you, because you fed him and would take good care of him.” She held out the chalk box.
    Otis took it and slid back the lid to look at Mutt, who was cowering in a corner. “Gee…” said Otis. “Gee…thanks, Ellen.” Gently he lifted Mutt out and stroked his soft white fur. Mutt snuggled into his hand. His very own Mutt!
    “Could I come and see him sometimes?” Ellen asked timidly.
    “Sure, any time.” Otis decided Ellen wasn’t so bad after all, even if she was always neat and clean and well behaved.
    As Ellen left, Bucky began to chant, “Otis has a girl. Otis has a girl.”
    “You keep quiet,” said Otis fiercely, “or I’ll…I’ll…”
    “If you do anything to me, I’ll tell the management on you,” said Bucky.
    “Well, keep quiet or I won’t let you play with my rat,” said Otis.
    Bucky kept quiet.

4
Otis and the Thirty Bugs
    I wish I could stir up a little excitement around here, thought Otis, one day after school. His mother was busy at the Spofford School of the Dance, and Mrs. Brewster said she didn’t want him underfoot when she was trying to run the vacuum cleaner in the front hall of the apartment house. Otis didn’t see how she could call sliding down the banisters being underfoot.
    Otis wandered over to Stewy’s house to see if Stewy had any ideas. Stewy couldn’t think of anything to do either, so the two boys and Stewy’s dog, Spud, started aimlessly down the street.
    This isn’t very exciting, thought Otis, as he watched Spud stop to scratch. The dog stood on three legs while he scratched with his hind foot.
    “That dog doesn’t know enough to sit down to scratch,” observed Otis, hoping to get a rise out of Stewy.
    “It takes a smart dog to stand up to scratch,” boasted Stewy. “Let’s go over to the high school and watch football practice.”
    “Okay,” agreed Otis, leapfrogging over a fire hydrant. “Let’s go.”
    Suddenly Stewy pointed. “Hey, look! Isn’t that Hack Battleson over there?”
    “It sure is,” agreed Otis in an awed voice, as both boys stopped to admire Hack Battleson. Gee, thought Otis, I wish I had a piece of paper. Maybe he would give me his autograph.
    Hack was not only fullback and captain of the Zachary P. Taylor High School football team, he had also been chosen the most promising football player in the whole city by the sports editor of the Oregonian . Sometimes he was called Five-yard Battleson, because whenever his team needed to gain one yard, Hack could gain five.
    Otis and Stewy often watched Hack at football practice. That was one time when Otis did not want to stir up any excitement. He just wanted to watch Hack kick the football farther than anyone else on the field and tackle the dummies so hard that the dust flew out in clouds. Twice Stewy’s father had taken the boys to see Hack play in a real game in the stadium on the other side of the city.
    “I wonder how come he isn’t out at football practice now,” said Otis. Hack, who was standing on his front lawn, held a fruit jar in one hand and appeared to be looking for something.
    “Sure is funny,” agreed Stewy. “What’s he doing anyway?”
    “Search me,” said Otis. “Gee, look at those muscles. I wish I had muscles like that.” Otis made up his mind to start doing exercises that very night. Otis noticed that Hack stood with one thumb hooked through the belt of his jeans. Otis hooked his thumb through the belt of his jeans too.
    Just then the boys saw Hack leap into the air and clap the lid on the jar. He looked into the jar, shook his head, and looked around once more.
    The boys sat down on the curb opposite Hack’s house to watch. “I know what,” said Otis. “Let’s give him a yell like we learned at the game.”
    The boys began to yell at the top of their voices, “T-T-T-A-Y. L-L-L-O-R. T-A-Y. L-O-R.