Read Online Lunch Money by Andrew Clements - Free Book Online

time.”
    Greg thought a moment. He said, “With me, it’s snakes.” And lying there on the floor, Greg shivered. “I don’t even like pictures of them.”
    Mr. Z said, “Ah, yes—pictures. When I was in junior high, I thought I wanted to be a doctor. I went to the public library and found a medical textbook. It had pictures. That was the end of my medical career.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Irrational. Anyway, apology accepted.”
    After a moment Mr. Z said, “What about the other matter, losing your temper over the little books? Any apologies for that?”
    Greg didn’t say anything.
    Mr. Z said, “Earlier, when I told you I was delayed in the office? I was looking through your student file. And Maura’s. You two have quite a history of conflict. And I thought I was going to be the big problem solver. I thought getting you to apologize would be a help. For both of you.”
    Greg turned his head to look at Mr. Z,moving a little so the legs of the desks didn’t block his view. The teacher had his eyes shut, and his face still looked pale. “But you don’t understand,” Greg said. “About my comic books, I mean. I worked all summer. It’s like this whole business I’m trying to start, and it’ll make tons of money. And at the start of math class I was thinking Maura would mess it all up.”
    â€œWhat—you don’t think that anymore?” asked Mr. Z.
    â€œNot really,” said Greg. “I got a better look at her minibook. She’s drawing all her pictures by hand, making her books one at a time.”
    â€œAnd you’re not.”
    â€œNo,” said Greg. “I make one original, and then print the rest using a copier.”
    â€œAh—,” said Mr. Z. “Mass production, economies of scale, increased profits, and market dominance, right?”
    Greg only understood about half of that, but he said, “Right. I can make forty or fifty copies in an hour, and the materials cost around two cents per copy. Then I sell each one for a quarter. And I’ve got about twenty more comics all planned out.”
    Mr. Z opened his eyes and turned his headto look at Greg. “You see that? Talking was good. Helped me understand. So why didn’t you just talk to Maura?”
    Greg shrugged. “Because she’s so . . . annoying.”
    Mr. Z’s eyes drifted to the blood on Greg’s shirt, and he quickly turned his eyes to the ceiling. He said, “I’ve got a theory about why you two keep fighting. You’re both very much alike. And you’re each too stubborn to take a step toward being friends.”
    Greg wasn’t sure what to say to that, and while he was thinking, Maura came back into the room with the principal right behind her.
    Mrs. Davenport said, “My goodness! Looks like an emergency room in here! A bleeder and a fainter come face-to-face—what are the odds of that? If we can patch up the math teacher, he can run the numbers and figure that out.” She chuckled. “Mrs. Emmet’s gone, so I’m your nurse, like it or not.”
    She went to Greg first and handed him a cold pack. “Maura tells me you already know what to do with this.”
    Greg nodded and pressed the blue plastic bag against his nose.
    The principal gave a towel and a cold pack to Mr. Z, then she pulled a desk closer and lifted his feet onto the seat. “Get the feet above the head—that’s first aid for big, strong swooning victims.” Mrs. Davenport chuckled again. Mr. Z did not.
    The principal said, “Greg, I’ve already called your mother, and she’ll meet you at home. Maura’s mother is coming in about five minutes, and she’s driving you both.”
    Then she turned to Maura and said, “Would you go to the girls’ room across the hall for me? Wet paper towels. We’ve got to get Greg cleaned up so