Read Online Freak the Mighty by Rodman Philbrick - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rodman Philbrick
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was really pretty cool.
Anyhow, that’s how Freak and I get sent to the principal’s office the first time together.
Mrs. Addison, she’s the principal, she takes one look at us waiting outside her office,
and she goes, “What have we here?”
“I’m afraid there has been a slight misunderstanding,” Freak says. “If you’d be so
good as to allow me to explain.”
Mrs. Addison is this really serious-acting black woman with tight gray hair in a bun
and these suits that make her look like she works in a bank or something. She has
this funny little smile like she’s sucking on a lemon and it quick turns sweet, and
then she goes, “By all means. Let’s hear what you have to say. Convince me.”
I can’t really remember what Freak said, except that he used so many big words, she
had to keep looking stuff up in his dictionary, which she seemed to get a real kick
out of, but the important thing is, whatever Freak told her, she fell for it.
I used to think all that spooky stuff about Friday the Thirteenth was just a pile
of baloney. But now I’m getting my own personal introduction to what can happen. It’s
October, and so far things have been going pretty good, better than I ever expected.
Me and Freak are like this unit, and even Mrs. Donelli says she is starting to get
used to us, which is her way of admitting that Freak is about twice as smart as she
is, and for sure he’s read more books.
She keeps saying stuff like, “Kevin, we know you know the answer, because you always know the answer, so wouldn’t it be nice if someone else got a chance? For instance,
your friend Maxwell?”
Freak goes, “He knows the answer, Mrs. Donelli.”
“Yes, Kevin, and I’m sure you’re correct because you’re always correct, but for a change I’d really like to hear Maxwell speak for himself. Maxwell?
Maxwell Kane?”
This is dumb because what does it matter if I know the answer? If I don’t know, then
Freak will tell me and he’ll say it in a way I can understand, which is a lot better
than Mrs. Donelli can do. So what I do, I just shrug and smile and wait, because I
know she’ll get tired of asking and move on to the next. As a matter of fact I do know the answer — the reason Johnny Tremain got mad and hateful is because he burned
his hand in a stupid accident — and I know about that because Freak has been showing
me how to read a whole book and for some reason it all makes sense, where before it
was just a bunch of words I didn’t care about.
My reading skills tutor, Mr. Meehan, he says stuff like, “Max, the tests have always
shown that you’re not dyslexic or disabled, and this proves it. As you know, heh heh,
my personal opinion has always been that you’re lazy and stubborn and you didn’t want to learn. So if hanging out with Kevin somehow improves your attitude and your skills,
that’s great. Keep up the good work.”
It was Mr. Meehan who had a word with Mrs. Donelli, and that’s why she finally gave
up on trying to make me talk in class, and instead she waits until study hall, where
she asks me thesame questions alone and I tell her the answers. She still doesn’t get it, though,
because she always goes, “But, Maxwell, if you can speak to me, then you can speak
to your classmates, right?”
Wrong. Big difference. I can’t explain what it is, except that my mouth shuts up when
there’s more than one or two people, and a whole classroom full, forget it.
“Okay, you’re shy about public speaking, but how does that apply to writing down the
answers? If you can read, then you can write, right?”
Wrong again. The reading stuff Freak helped me figure out by showing how words are
just voices on paper. Writing down the words is a whole different story. No matter
what Freak says, writing the stuff down is not like talking, and my hand feels so
huge and clumsy, it’s like the pencil is a piece of spaghetti or something and
Anyhow, that’s how Freak and I get sent to the principal’s office the first time together.
Mrs. Addison, she’s the principal, she takes one look at us waiting outside her office,
and she goes, “What have we here?”
“I’m afraid there has been a slight misunderstanding,” Freak says. “If you’d be so
good as to allow me to explain.”
Mrs. Addison is this really serious-acting black woman with tight gray hair in a bun
and these suits that make her look like she works in a bank or something. She has
this funny little smile like she’s sucking on a lemon and it quick turns sweet, and
then she goes, “By all means. Let’s hear what you have to say. Convince me.”
I can’t really remember what Freak said, except that he used so many big words, she
had to keep looking stuff up in his dictionary, which she seemed to get a real kick
out of, but the important thing is, whatever Freak told her, she fell for it.
I used to think all that spooky stuff about Friday the Thirteenth was just a pile
of baloney. But now I’m getting my own personal introduction to what can happen. It’s
October, and so far things have been going pretty good, better than I ever expected.
Me and Freak are like this unit, and even Mrs. Donelli says she is starting to get
used to us, which is her way of admitting that Freak is about twice as smart as she
is, and for sure he’s read more books.
She keeps saying stuff like, “Kevin, we know you know the answer, because you always know the answer, so wouldn’t it be nice if someone else got a chance? For instance,
your friend Maxwell?”
Freak goes, “He knows the answer, Mrs. Donelli.”
“Yes, Kevin, and I’m sure you’re correct because you’re always correct, but for a change I’d really like to hear Maxwell speak for himself. Maxwell?
Maxwell Kane?”
This is dumb because what does it matter if I know the answer? If I don’t know, then
Freak will tell me and he’ll say it in a way I can understand, which is a lot better
than Mrs. Donelli can do. So what I do, I just shrug and smile and wait, because I
know she’ll get tired of asking and move on to the next. As a matter of fact I do know the answer — the reason Johnny Tremain got mad and hateful is because he burned
his hand in a stupid accident — and I know about that because Freak has been showing
me how to read a whole book and for some reason it all makes sense, where before it
was just a bunch of words I didn’t care about.
My reading skills tutor, Mr. Meehan, he says stuff like, “Max, the tests have always
shown that you’re not dyslexic or disabled, and this proves it. As you know, heh heh,
my personal opinion has always been that you’re lazy and stubborn and you didn’t want to learn. So if hanging out with Kevin somehow improves your attitude and your skills,
that’s great. Keep up the good work.”
It was Mr. Meehan who had a word with Mrs. Donelli, and that’s why she finally gave
up on trying to make me talk in class, and instead she waits until study hall, where
she asks me thesame questions alone and I tell her the answers. She still doesn’t get it, though,
because she always goes, “But, Maxwell, if you can speak to me, then you can speak
to your classmates, right?”
Wrong. Big difference. I can’t explain what it is, except that my mouth shuts up when
there’s more than one or two people, and a whole classroom full, forget it.
“Okay, you’re shy about public speaking, but how does that apply to writing down the
answers? If you can read, then you can write, right?”
Wrong again. The reading stuff Freak helped me figure out by showing how words are
just voices on paper. Writing down the words is a whole different story. No matter
what Freak says, writing the stuff down is not like talking, and my hand feels so
huge and clumsy, it’s like the pencil is a piece of spaghetti or something and
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