The Figure In the Shadows by John Bellairs, Mercer Mayer Read Free Book Online Page B

bicycle ruts. Puddles of ice lay here and there. Lewis saw a group of boys getting ready to play football. They were lining up to be chosen, and the two captains were flipping a coin to see who got first choice. As Lewis drew near, he saw that one of the boys in the group was Woody. And once again Lewis’s courage failed. He felt like going home. But he fought down his fear, and stayed.
    Lewis slipped into the group of boys that were waitingto be chosen. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, hoping that no one would notice him. Near him, a boy who had been jumping up and down and slapping his sides stopped jumping and stared at Lewis as if he were a visitor from outer space. What was old lardo doing here?
    One by one the boys got picked, until only two were left unchosen. They were Woody and Lewis. Woody glanced over at Lewis and grinned.
    “Well, if it ain’t lard ass. Djer uncle letcha out of yer cage today?”
    Lewis stared hard at the ground.
    The two captains were Tom Lutz and Dave Shellenberger. It was Tom’s turn to choose, and he glanced from Woody to Lewis. Woody was good at sports, but the boys avoided choosing him because he was such a troublemaker.
    “Oh, well. C’mon, Woody,” Tom grumbled. Woody walked over to the group of boys on Tom’s side.
    For a minute it looked as if Dave Shellenberger would tell Lewis to go home. That was what usually happened on the rare occasions when Lewis showed up to play games with the other boys. But this time, for some reason, Dave chose Lewis. He motioned for him to come over to his side.
    “C’mon, fatty,” he said. “We’ll make you our center. Need some beef in the line.”
    Lewis was in the game. He could hardly believe it.
    After the kickoff, Lewis’s side wound up with the ball. Lewis stood there, bent over, legs wide apart, rubbing the football back and forth over the frozen ground. The quarterback started a long count.
    “Forty-three . . . twenty-four . . . three . . . zero . . . fourteen . . .”
    Suddenly Lewis felt a sickening shock. He had been staring at the ground, and now he was on his back, looking up at the heavy gray sky.
    “Ooops. Sorry. Guess I jumped the gun.” It was Woody, of course.
    “Hey, Woody, come on!” yelled Dave. “Cut out that kind of crap, will you?”
    “I think lard ass here was off sides,” said Woody, pointing down at Lewis.
    “I was not, and stop callin’ me lard ass!” Lewis was on his feet now, red-faced and angry.
    “That’s your name, lard ass,” said Woody, carelessly. “Got any other names?”
    Lewis hauled off and punched Woody in the stomach. Woody clutched at his middle. Pain and surprise were in his eyes. The punch had really hurt.
    Several boys who were standing around gasped. Somebody yelled, “Fight! Fight!” and a circle formed around the two boys. Woody was angry now. He spat on the ground and swore. “Okay, you tub of guts,” he snarled, moving in with his fists up. “Now you’re gonna get it.”
    Lewis backed away. He felt like turning and running. But now Woody was on him, swinging hard. The blows fell on Lewis’s shoulders in a stinging rain. Lewis lunged and got his arms around Woody. Now the two of them were rolling over and over on the ground. Woody came out on top, and Lewis felt his head being pushed down into a frozen puddle. The thin ice cracked, and cold water bit into Lewis’s scalp.

    Lewis looked up at the ring of expectant faces hovering against the sky. Woody was astride him, sneering and triumphant.
    “Go ahead, lard ass. Tell ‘em what your name is.” Woody put his hand on Lewis’s face and shoved. Icy water stung Lewis’s ears.
    “No.”
    “Go
on
, I said! Tell ‘em your
name
!” Woody dug his knees into Lewis’s sides. It was like being caught in a nutcracker.
    Suddenly Lewis lurched upward, and Woody fell over on his back. Now they were rolling over and over again, and this time Lewis came up on top. He was sitting with his full