Beverly Cleary_Ellen & Otis 02 Page 8

  At the intersection, the girls crossed the street with the green light. Otis reached the corner just as the light turned to yellow and then to red. As he waited for it to change, he saw George and Stewy running down the street toward him. They would have to turn up now, thought Otis miserably. Now I’ll never hear the last of this.

  As the signal changed, George and Stewy caught up with Otis. The girls, standing on the opposite curb, waved the shoes and boots. “Yoo-hoo, Otis,” they yelled. His shoelaces gleamed brightly through a flurry of snow.

  “I guess they fixed you.” George was laughing so hard that he could hardly get the words out.

  “And old Ellen Tebbits, too.” Stewy laughed even harder. “Boy, I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

  Otis wasn’t going to listen to any more of the boys’ guffawing. He stepped out of the snow and ground his way across the street. The two boys followed.

  “Hey, Ellen,” Otis called desperately. “I’m sorry about your hair.”

  “It’s too late now,” yelled Ellen.

  The girls began to run again. Then Austine tripped and fell. As Ellen paused to help her to her feet, Otis nearly caught up with them. Now I’ve got you, he thought grimly.

  “Hey, Ellen,” yelled Stewy. “Throw!”

  Two shoes and two boots sailed over Otis’s head. He jumped and tried to snatch them out of the air, but the girls had been too quick for him. He landed on the sidewalk with a jolt that turned both his ankles. George and Stewy scrambled to pick up his footwear.

  “Ellen, Austine, run!” ordered Stewy. The girls ran. Then the two boys dashed past Otis and caught up with Ellen and Austine. The girls took back Otis’s shoes and boots and ran on down the street.

  George and Stewy turned back toward the park. Otis glowered as they passed him once more. “You’re some pals!” he grumbled.

  “Remember the bullfight?” asked George.

  “And remember Spud’s flea?” asked Stewy. Otis had no answer.

  “We’re going to get a couple of hot dogs and then go skate some more,” said George. “Too bad you don’t have shoes so you could come with us.”

  “Go on, eat your old hot dogs. I don’t care,” muttered Otis, but he knew he did care. Anyway, he thought, those girls can’t run all the way home. I’ll catch them at the bus stop. I’ll fix them yet.

  Even though it was difficult to run in rubber boots, the girls managed to stay half a block ahead of Otis. When they turned the corner by the bus stop, Otis thought, Now I’ll get them. He decided the first thing he would do would be to wash Ellen’s face with snow. That Ellen Tebbits! She’d be sorry.

  As Otis limped around the corner, he stopped and started. The bus was pulling out from the curb. Ellen and Austine were not in sight.

  “Hey, come back here,” Otis yelled at the bus. He could not believe the girls had actually left him to go home on the bus without his shoes. He looked around to see if they had hidden his shoes and boots. Then he looked after the bus. There in the back window was the very thing he did not want to see. Ellen was waving his shoes. Austine was waving his boots.

  Otis made a good hard snowball and threw it after the bus. How his legs ached. Leaning against the bus-stop sign, he glumly made a design in the dirty snow with the point of his skate. Girls! he thought bitterly. And Ellen Tebbits, of all people. And just because they were best friends, Austine had to help her. When he caught up with them, he would not only wash their faces, he would put snow down their necks.

  Otis began to worry about getting on the next bus. Probably the driver wouldn’t let him on wearing skates. Well, he couldn’t very well take them off. He turned down his pants cuffs and stepped into a pile of snow so his skate blades wouldn’t show.

  When the bus came, Otis’s fingers were so cold that after finding the dime in his pocket he dropped it on the floor, where it rolled under the driver’s seat. “I’ll get it,” said Otis quickly, but the driver had already bent to pick it up.

  When the man straightened up with the dime in his hand, he looked at Otis, shook his head, and said, “I suppose there’s some reason why you’re wearing skates on the bus?”

  “Isn’t it all right?” asked Otis. “They aren’t very sharp. See?” He grabbed the fare box to steady himself and held up one foot.

  “I see,” said the driver, as the passengers began to laugh.

  “Is there a rule that says I can’t wear skates on the bus?” Otis wanted to know. The driver had to let him ride. He couldn’t walk home with his toes hurting and his legs aching this way.

  “The only reason there isn’t a rule is that nobody ever thought anyone would want to wear skates on a bus. It takes a boy to think up something like that.” The driver shook his head again. “Now sit down on that seat behind me and don’t step on anyone.”

  Ordinarily, Otis would have been pleased to stir up a little excitement on the bus, but now all he wanted to do was rest his aching legs a few minutes. He wiggled his toes and wondered how many blisters he had. His toes were so numb with cold he couldn’t tell. Maybe his feet were raw and bleeding.

  “Boys!” muttered the driver, as he closed the door and shifted gears. “Boys!”

  On the way home Otis worried about his shoes. What would Ellen and Austine do with them? They were the only shoes he had for wearing to school in cold weather. He pictured himself going to school on his skates. For a minute he thought it might be a good idea. He would like to see Mrs. Gitler’s face when he walked into her room on skates. Then he thought how his legs ached and how he wouldn’t be able to play dodgeball during lunch period. No, it wasn’t worth it. He would rather wear shoes to school.

  When Otis got off the bus at his corner by the post office, he thought he heard giggles. The two girls popped out from behind a sign that said Uncle Sam needs you. Rosy and breathless with laughter and cold, they started running again. This time they were not running very fast.

  Now I’ll catch them, thought Otis. And I’ll scrub their faces with snow. But when he started to run, he found his legs were so tired they would no longer move the way they were supposed to. He felt as if he were running in slow motion.

  “Oh, Ellen,” he heard Austine say, as she stopped to lean against a tree, “I’ve run so much my side hurts.”

  “So does mine,” panted Ellen, “but we can’t let him catch us now.” In the cold air, Otis could see Ellen’s breath coming from her mouth in quick puffs.

  Around the corner they went, past the Payless Drugstore and the entrance to the Spofford School of the Dance. Valerie Todd Spofford was just coming out of the building.

  “Hello, Mrs. Spofford,” panted Ellen and Austine, as they ran past.

  “Hello, girls,” said Mrs. Spofford. “My, you’re in a hurry, aren’t you?”

  Austine nodded, and pointed toward Otis, who was trying desperately to put on a burst of speed.

  “Otis Spofford!” exclaimed his mother. “I am disappointed in you. What did I say to you this morning about chasing the girls?”

  “But I’m not chasing them,” Otis protested, as the girls slowed down to listen.

  “Why, Otis, I just saw you.” Mrs. Spofford sounded shocked.

  “He is, too, chasing us,” said Ellen. “He chased us all the way home.” The girls began to giggle.

  “I was running after them, but I wasn’t chasing them.” Otis did not suppose his mother would see the difference.

  “Now, Otis,” said Mrs. Spofford. Then she saw his skates. “Otis Spofford, is that any way to treat a perfectly good pair of skates?”

  “No, but…” Otis saw Ellen and Austine walking rapidly down the street. Now how was he going to explain to his mother? “No, but…” he started again.

  His mother interrupted. “Otis, I don’t know what gets into you. Now run along home while I pick up some groceries for lunch.” Valerie Todd Spofford turned up the collar of her coat against the cold and hurried down the street.

  Girls! thought Otis grimly, as he limped along on
his aching legs. And now his mother said he was chasing them. Well, they could keep his old shoes. He didn’t care. He probably had so many blisters on his toes he couldn’t get them on anyway. Maybe he would have to stay home from school. Then they would be sorry.

  Otis felt more and more sorry for himself. The more he thought about himself, the sadder he became. Half frozen. No shoes. Blisters on his feet. Picked on by girls. Misunderstood by his mother. And hungry besides.

  When at last Otis limped up the street to his apartment house, the only person in sight was Bucky, who was sitting on the front steps eating a cupcake. There was a lopsided snowman near the steps.

  Wearily, Otis threw himself down beside Bucky. “Hi,” he said, looking hungrily at the cupcake. Just his luck to run into Bucky. Now he would have a lot of explaining to do about his skates. Little kids always asked so many questions.

  “Hi,” said Bucky, digging into the pocket of his snowsuit. “Want a cupcake? I saved one for you.”

  “Sure.” Otis took the crumbled cupcake. He took a big bite. Mmm, chocolate with nuts. He felt better almost at once, but, boy, how he ached! And his feet!

  “How come you’re wearing skates?” Bucky wanted to know.

  “Because.” Otis’s answer was muffled by a mouthful of cupcake. What would the kids at school say when they heard about the good joke Ellen played on him? And it was a good joke, he grudgingly admitted. She sure did get even with him for cutting her hair. He just hoped she brought his shoes back before Monday. Otis started to lick the frosting off his fingers so he could unlace his skates.

  Suddenly Ellen and Austine popped around the corner of the apartment house. “Why, there’s Otis Spofford.” Austine pretended to be surprised.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” said Ellen sweetly.

  Now what? thought Otis, as he glared at the girls.

  “We found a pair of shoes and a pair of boots at the lake and we wondered if they were yours,” said Ellen. Both girls went off into a gale of giggles.

  “Otis,” said Bucky, “how could you forget your shoes?”

  This made the girls scream with laughter.

  “Aw, cut out the funny business.” Otis was too tired to think about washing the girls’ faces with snow. All he wanted to do was sit right where he was. “You give me my shoes.”

  “So long as you said you were sorry you cut my hair, you can have them if you promise to stop teasing me,” said Ellen.

  “And cross your heart and hope to die and stew and fry,” added Austine.

  Otis was silent. Girls!

  “Well, come on, Austine,” said Ellen. “I guess he doesn’t want his shoes back.”

  “I guess not,” agreed Austine, starting to walk away.

  “Hey, wait a minute,” begged Otis. “I’ve got to have them.” Then he thought of something. Quickly he thrust one hand behind his back.

  “Are you going to stop teasing me?” Ellen demanded.

  Otis didn’t want to say it. “Okay,” he muttered.

  “And cross your heart and hope to die and stew and fry,” repeated Austine firmly.

  “’S m’ heart, hope to die ’n’ stew ’n’ fry,” Otis mumbled.

  The girls handed him his shoes and boots. Then they burst into a fit of giggles and started down the street.

  “Are you really going to stop teasing Ellen?” Bucky wanted to know.

  Otis grinned and said, “I’ll still tease her all right, but after today I won’t tease her as much.” He looked at the girls, whose shoulders were shaking with laughter. “Hey, Ellen!” he yelled. “Look!” The girls turned and Otis held up his right hand with two fingers crossed. “I had kings all the time!” he shouted.

  About the Author

  BEVERLY CLEARY is one of America’s most popular authors. Born in McMinnville, Oregon, she lived on a farm in Yamhill until she was six and then moved to Portland. After college, as the children’s librarian in Yakima, Washington, she was challenged to find stories for non-readers. She wrote her first book, HENRY HUGGINS, in response to a boy’s question, “Where are the books about kids like us?”

  Mrs. Cleary’s books have earned her many prestigious awards, including the American Library Association’s Laura Ingalls Wilder Award, presented in recognition of her lasting contribution to children’s literature. Her DEAR MR. HENSHAW was awarded the 1984 John Newbery Medal, and both RAMONA QUIMBY, AGE 8 and RAMONA AND HER FATHER have been named Newbery Honor Books. In addition, her books have won more than thirty-five statewide awards based on the votes of her young readers. Her characters, including Henry Huggins, Ellen Tebbits, Otis Spofford, and Beezus and Ramona Quimby, as well as Ribsy, Socks, and Ralph S. Mouse, have delighted children for generations. Mrs. Cleary lives in coastal California.

  Visit Beverly Cleary on the World Wide Web at www.beverlycleary.com.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

  Enjoy all of Beverly Cleary’s books

  FEATURING RAMONA QUIMBY:

  Beezus and Ramona

  Ramona the Pest

  Ramona the Brave

  Ramona and Her Father

  Ramona and Her Mother

  Ramona Quimby, Age 8

  Ramona Forever

  Ramona’s World

  FEATURING HENRY HUGGINS:

  Henry Huggins

  Henry and Beezus

  Henry and Ribsy

  Henry and the Paper Route

  Henry and the Clubhouse

  Ribsy

  FEATURING RALPH MOUSE:

  The Mouse and the Motorcycle

  Runaway Ralph

  Ralph S. Mouse

  MORE GREAT FICTION BY BEVERLY CLEARY:

  Ellen Tebbits

  Otis Spofford

  Fifteen

  The Luckiest Girl

  Jean and Johnny

  Emily’s Runaway Imagination

  Sister of the Bride

  Mitch and Amy

  Socks

  Dear Mr. Henshaw

  Muggie Maggie

  Strider

  Two Times the Fun

  AND DON’T MISS BEVERLY CLEARY’S AUTOBIOGRAPHIES:

  A Girl from Yamhill

  My Own Two Feet

  Copyright

  OTIS SPOFFORD. Copyright © 1963 by Beverly Cleary. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  EPub © Edition SEPTEMBER 2009 ISBN: 9780061972294

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