Read Online Mitch and Amy by Beverly Cleary - Free Book Online Page A

Mitchell, as he walked out the back door, reluctant to face a day of reading, Deep Sea Dandies, and Alan Hibbler. His sneakers seemed to have lost their bounce, and he plodded down thehill with the muscles between his shoulders tight and tense, waiting for the eucalyptus buds that he was sure would strike. He did not relax once all the way to school, and then, when the traffic boy led him across the street and nothing had happened, he felt let down. Alan had not followed him at all. The thought occurred to Mitchell that Alan was now annoying him as much when he did not follow him as when he did.
    â€œDrat!” said Mitchell, kicking the fence and wishing he knew what to do. The burden of worrying about Alan was wearing him out. In the days that followed he found himself thinking about Alan when he should have been thinking about the history of California or arithmetic. He drew an anchor on the back of his hand with a ballpoint pen so he would look tough and tattooed. Miss Colby had to speak to him about wasting time.
    One afternoon after school Mitchell walked in the back door, threw his homework and a thick book on electricity down on the kitchen table, and grabbed two bananas out of the wooden bowl on the counter before he went into the living room where his mother was reading her French cookbook.
    â€œHello, Mitch.” Mrs. Huff looked up from her cookbook. Mitchell knew they would probably have something good for dinner that required so much beating, chopping, and straining that his mother would only have time for hamburger patties or canned fruit to go with it. “What kind of day did you have?” his mother asked.
    Mitchell flopped into a chair and pulled back the skin on one of his bananas. “Just a day, I guess.” He took a big bite of banana and chewed thoughtfully. One thing about bananas, they were easy to chew when he was wearing a dental retainer. They weren’t tough, and they didn’t have any seeds, pits,or cores to get in the way.
    â€œYou don’t seem to be your usual happy self lately,” said his mother. “Has something gone wrong?”
    For a moment Mitchell was tempted to tell his mother all about Alan, but then he thought better of the impulse. “No, I guess not,” said Mitchell. “What could go wrong?”
    â€œLots of things,” said his mother lightly. “Seaweedy spinach for lunch in the ickatorium, for example.”
    Mitchell smiled, amused to hear his mother talking like a fourth grader. He broke back the stem of the second banana and pulled down a strip of skin. A banana came in a very neat package.
    â€œSometimes I think you run on bananas the way a car runs on gasoline,” said Mrs. Huff. “Are you sure you aren’t worried about something?”
    Mitchell made up his mind he was notgoing to tell his mother about Alan and the eucalyptus buds, because she might call Alan’s mother or the principal and get him into more trouble. “Nope,” he said after the last bite of banana. “Well, I guess I’ll go ride my bike.”
    Mitchell remembered to put the banana skins in the garbage before he let the back door slam and wheeled his bicycle out of the garage. At the foot of the steep driveway he headed uphill, pumping as hard as he could. Standing on his pedals and using every bit of his strength to push them around made him feel good, and when he made the top of the hill, he coasted down, enjoying the wind on his face, until the road rose again and he had to stand up to pump once more. Panting, he gulped in lungfuls of air and drove out the stuffy, indoor feeling that he always had at the end of a school day or after doing his homework. He even began to feel betterabout Alan, who was nothing but a stupid old bully. Maybe one of these days he and Alan would have a showdown, good guy against the bad guy, and the good guy would winbecause good guys always won—he hoped. “Pow-pow-pow,” said