Beverly Cleary_Ellen & Otis 02 Page 4

  Otis was delighted with the way his private experiment was turning out. Just wait till Mrs. Gitler weighed Mutt. When he asked her if she didn’t think the cafeteria should serve soda pop, she wouldn’t have a thing to say against it.

  As he was leaving the room for recess, Otis made a detour past the cages in the hope that he could slip Mutt’s food to him. Stewy followed close at his heels. “What are you tagging around after me for?” Otis asked.

  “I’m just looking at the rats,” said Stewy. “What would I tag after you for?”

  Otis decided he had better be quiet. He did not want to make Stewy suspicious.

  When Otis had no better luck feeding Mutt at lunch time, he began to be uneasy. What if he couldn’t get any food to Mutt? Maybe the rat would lose weight and he would have to start his experiment all over again.

  Finally, as the class left the room to go to the auditorium for folk dancing, Otis managed to slip Mutt’s food into the cage. Then he worried all during folk dancing. What if Mutt didn’t eat it all up while the class was out of the room? But when they returned, Otis was relieved to find every crumb gone.

  Friday was worst of all. Otis scarcely had time for breakfast, he was so anxious to get to school early. The door of Room Eleven was locked as usual, and there was no opportunity to slip food into the cage during the morning. By lunch time Otis was desperate. Even though he had not brought a sandwich for himself, he hid in the cloakroom again and took a chance that Stewy would not miss him. When the classroom door was safely locked, he watched Mutt gobble the cheese he had brought him and look around for more. Hungry as he was, Otis gave the rat the rest of the cheese and a vitamin pill.

  Suddenly Otis heard the sound of a key in the door. Mrs. Gitler was coming back! He looked frantically for a place to hide and made it to the cloakroom just as the classroom door opened. He crouched halfway between the cloakroom’s two doors. Just to be safe, he pulled someone’s raincoat over him. He heard Mrs. Gitler lock the classroom door from the inside. Then he heard her walk across the room, humming to herself.

  Otis was afraid to move. He was almost afraid to breathe. Was she going to stay in the room for the whole lunch hour, for Pete’s sake? He heard the drawer of her desk open. More humming. Then a snapping noise. What could that be? A compact, of course. Mrs. Gitler was powdering her nose.

  Otis’s left leg went to sleep. The drawer closed. A chair scraped. Mrs. Gitler walked down the side of the room by the windows. Would she…? Yes, she did. She stopped by the rats’ cages.

  Otis’s right leg went to sleep. If only he could be sure Mutt had finished the vitamin pill! He tried wiggling his toes inside his shoes to ease the numbness in his legs. Just then Mrs. Gitler started to walk toward the back of the room. Otis held his breath. He didn’t know what he would do if she came into the cloakroom. He heard her pause at one of the cloakroom doors. Then she passed it. He was able to breathe again as he heard her open a cupboard, take something out, and close it again. If only she would leave the room!

  Otis’s hungry stomach began to rumble and then to growl. Frantically he pressed his arms against his middle. His stomach made an interesting gurgling noise. He squirmed silently. His stomach growled back at him. Surely it was loud enough for Mrs. Gitler to hear.

  Mrs. Gitler’s footsteps returned to the front of the room and Otis heard her sit down at her desk. He heard papers rustling and decided she was settled for the rest of the lunch period. At least she couldn’t hear his noisy stomach from the front of the room.

  Why did I ever think this was such a good idea anyway, thought Otis miserably. Maybe it wasn’t such a good joke after all. Maybe the joke was really on him. Then he thought how close he was to rat-weighing time. No, he wouldn’t give up. He would hang on a little longer. His legs felt as if they were stuck full of pins. Grimly he listened for each minute to click by on the electric clock. Each minute seemed so long he was sure the clock had stopped. Outside he heard the children laughing and shouting. He wondered if anyone missed him.

  Finally, when Otis was sure he could not remain motionless another instant, the first bell rang and Mrs. Gitler unlocked the door. He waited until the halls were filled with noise before he came out from under the raincoat. Then he clung to a coat hook with one hand while he tried to make his stiff, prickly legs work.

  Stewy was first into the cloakroom. He was eating a chocolate bar filled with almonds.

  Otis had to swallow before he could say, “Hi.”

  “What are you doing here?” demanded Stewy suspiciously.

  “I stayed in. I don’t feel so good,” said Otis, looking hungrily at the chocolate bar. And it was true. He couldn’t think of a time when he had felt worse.

  Stewy hung up his jacket, popped the rest of the chocolate into his mouth, and licked his fingers.

  By that time Otis’s feet were working once more and were able to carry him into the classroom. As he walked past the rats’ cages he saw that the vitamin pill had disappeared, but he wondered uneasily what Mrs. Gitler had seen. He was glad his experiment was nearly at an end. He couldn’t keep it up any longer. Not even for soda pop in the cafeteria.

  When Monday morning finally arrived, Otis shoved his way through the excited boys and girls crowded around the rats. Sure enough, Mutt was bigger. Otis put his finger against the cage. With his whiskers quivering, Mutt put his front paws up on the wire and sniffed at Otis’s finger. Good old Mutt, thought Otis. He knows me. He’s just like my very own pet rat.

  And then Otis began to wonder. What was going to happen to the rats when the experiment ended? Mutt was the only pet he had ever had. He was going to miss him when he was gone, unless…Maybe there was some way he could get to take Mutt home with him. Mrs. Brewster would not have to know about a pet rat, and Otis’s mother was too busy to care.

  Otis went to the teacher’s desk. “Mrs. Gitler, what will happen to the rats when the experiment ends?” he asked.

  “We’ll talk about that when the time comes,” she answered, and went on working on her lesson plans.

  That only made Otis more anxious. After the class had taken their seats, he couldn’t keep from watching Mutt. Such a fine healthy rat! And all because he had worked to make sure that he had good food. Otis had to find some way to keep him.

  As Mrs. Gitler took the scales out of the cupboard, Otis still had not thought of a plan. He wished she would hurry as he watched her adjust the weights and set Pinky on the scale. She slid the weights back and forth some more before she said, “Pinky weighs one hundred and thirty grams.” Then she lifted Mutt out of his cage, weighed him, and announced, “Mutt weighs one hundred and thirty-seven grams!”

  Mutt was bigger than Pinky! Everyone began to talk at once.

  “I have only one pair of ears,” said Mrs. Gitler.

  “I can hear only one person at a time.”

  Secretly Otis felt that he had Mrs. Gitler in a pretty tight spot. He raised his hand and asked, “If Mutt grew more on white bread and soda pop than Pinky did on school lunches, doesn’t that mean we should drink soda pop and eat white bread in the cafeteria?”

  Soda pop in the cafeteria! Everyone had something to say.

  Mrs. Gitler looked stern until the room was silent. Then she spoke quietly. “No, Otis, it does not mean that we should eat white bread and drink soda pop in the cafeteria.” She paused to look sadly at the class. “It means that some boy or girl in this room has spoiled our experiment by feeding Mutt.”

  Otis stared at his teacher. Leave it to Mrs. Gitler to guess what had happened. Much as he disliked admitting it, even to himself, he had to admire her. You couldn’t put anything over on Mrs. Gitler. At least, not very often. Otis squirmed uncomfortably. Poor Mrs. Gitler. How disappointed she looked—to think that one of her boys or girls would spoil the scientific experiment.

  Now Otis did not know what to do. He had expected Mrs. Gitler to be surprised or maybe cross, not to look sad and disappointed. While Mrs. Gitler looked sadly at the class,
Otis made up his mind to tell her what he had done. He would say he was sorry, and when Mrs. Gitler forgave him he would ask for Mutt.

  But before he could get the words out, Ellen spoke. “Mrs. Gitler, I…I…” She gulped. Otis thought she sounded as if she was about to cry. “I fed Mutt. He…he looked so little and hungry that I felt sorry for him.” She gulped again and looked miserably at Mrs. Gitler.

  Otis stared at Ellen. Mrs. Gitler surprised him, but Ellen astounded him. Old Ellen Tebbits saying she fed Mutt just when he was going to tell what he had done. Well, he didn’t believe it. It wasn’t true. She couldn’t have fed Mutt. Look at all the trouble he had had, trying to slip cheese and vitamin pills to him.

  “How could you feed him without anybody seeing you?” Otis demanded.

  “Yes, Ellen, and tell us what you fed him,” said Mrs. Gitler.

  “Every day I wrapped some of my lunch from the cafeteria in a paper napkin.” Ellen paused to sniff unhappily. “And then I waited till everyone had gone home and then I asked the janitor to let me into the room for a minute. I didn’t mean to spoil the experiment. Mutt just looked so…so hungry.” Ellen burst into tears.

  Now why didn’t I think of that? thought Otis. That Ellen! He couldn’t help feeling sorry for her, she looked so unhappy, but just the same…Mutt was his rat.

  There was an embarrassed silence until Mrs. Gitler said briskly, “Even if the experiment didn’t turn out as we planned, I’m sure we have all learned the important thing. That is, we must eat good food if we are to grow and be healthy.”

  That isn’t what I learned, thought Otis. I learned you’ve got to be careful or some girl will get ahead of you.

  Austine raised her hand. “Mrs. Gitler, if we aren’t going on with the experiment, what is going to happen to Mutt and Pinky?”

  “We’ll find good homes for them,” Mrs. Gitler answered. “Is there anyone who would like a pet rat?”

  Otis waved his hand wildly, but Mrs. Gitler did not see him. She asked, “Who would like to take Pinky home?”

  Otis stopped waving his hand. He wanted Mutt. The class finally decided Tommy should have Pinky. Stewy wanted him, but he already had a dog. Tommy, who had neither a dog nor a cat, could give a good home to a rat.

  Now was Otis’s chance. He waved his hand frantically. “Mrs. Gitler,” he said. “Mrs. Gitler.”

  Otis knew she saw him, even though she said, “Yes, Ellen?”

  Ellen twisted her handkerchief as she spoke. “I know I spoiled the experiment, but I’d like awfully much to take Mutt home. I sort of feel like he’s my rat.”

  Otis didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t let Ellen have Mutt. He had to do something. “But I fed him too,” he protested. “He’s just as much mine as Ellen’s. I went without my lunch to feed him.” Otis watched Mrs. Gitler anxiously. She just had to see how important it was for him to have Mutt for his very own. He felt everyone staring at him. “Well, I did feed him,” said Otis, when no one spoke. “And I gave him vitamin pills besides. He’s just as much mine as he is Ellen’s.”

  “Well, Otis, aren’t you rather slow in telling us about this?” Mrs. Gitler looked stern, but Otis could see that behind her stern look she wanted to laugh.

  This was no laughing matter to Otis. “I was going to tell, but Ellen beat me to it,” he explained.

  “Oh, I see,” said Mrs. Gitler. “Yes, Ellen, since you told us about feeding Mutt first, you may have him for a pet.”

  “Aw, that’s no fair,” muttered Otis, trying to cover up his disappointment.

  “What did you say, Otis?” asked Mrs. Gitler.

  “Nothing.” Otis scowled and slid down in his seat. That Ellen Tebbits! Taking his rat! Why, you wouldn’t think a girl who was always neat and clean like Ellen would even like rats.

  That afternoon Otis watched Mrs. Gitler put Mutt in a chalk box for Ellen to carry home. It seemed to him that he had never wanted anything as much as he wanted Mutt for his very own. Well, it was too late now. He took one last look at Mutt’s bright eyes and quivering whiskers before he started home.

  When Otis reached the apartment house he found Bucky, a kindergarten boy who lived in the same building, sitting on the front steps waiting for him. Although Otis didn’t care much about playing with a five-year-old, he couldn’t help liking Bucky, because he knew the little boy admired him and wanted to be like him when he grew up.

  “Hi,” said Bucky, who was wearing his cowboy suit. “Let’s play like we’re cowboys.”

  Otis sat down on the steps. “Not today,” he said glumly, and began to pull a piece of rubber off the sole of his sneaker. He wished there was someone around to play with besides a little kindergartner. If only he had Mutt!

  Then Otis looked down the street and saw Ellen coming toward him. She had changed to her play clothes and was carrying the chalk box. She looked unhappy.

  “Hi,” said Otis, wondering where she was going.

  “Hello, Otis.” Ellen stopped in front 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. Ta-a-ay-lor!”

  Hack paid no attention. He leaped into the air with his fruit jar again. The boys got up and walked across the street, where they stood in front of Hack’s house.

  “Let’s try the Zachary P. Taylor football song,” whispered Otis.

  The boys began to sing.

  “Z. P. Taylor, school of honored name,

  Fight, fight, fight along the road to fame

  We’ll win because of might,

  We’ll keep your victory bright!

  Rah! Rah! Rah!”

  This time Hack glanced at the boys and the dog. “Hi, kids,” he said, and went on hunting.

  Otis and Stewy looked at each other. Hack Battleson, Five-yard Battleson, fullback and captain of the Zachary P. Taylor football team, actually had spoken to them. Encouraged, the boys moved closer.

  Otis was first to get up his courage. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Trying to catch insects,” answered Hack, in a way that showed he was much too busy to waste time talking to grade-school boys.

  “How come you’re catching bugs when there’s football practice going on?” Stewy asked.