For more than forty years,

  Yearling has been the leading name

  in classic and award-winning literature

  for young readers.

  Yearling books feature children's

  favorite authors and characters,

  providing dynamic stories of adventure,

  humor, history, mystery, and fantasy.

  Trust Yearling paperbacks to entertain,

  inspire, and promote the love of reading

  in all children.

  For my mother, Alice Moeller, with love

  Chapter 1

  The nine o'clock bell rang.

  Richard Best pounded down the hall of the Polk Street School.

  He burst into Room 113.

  Ms. Rooney was telling everyone where to sit.

  She smiled at Richard and pointed. “Right there behind Matthew Jackson” she said.

  Richard slid into the seat behind Matthew. Matthew had stick-out ears and a wet-the-bed smell.

  It was September. The first day of school.

  Everything was just the same.

  The same old classroom, painted up a little.

  The same old Ms. Rooney with her puffy brown hair and a lot of orange lip stuff.

  There was something different though. The rest of the kids.

  Last year they were babies in Mrs. White's class.

  Now they were in Ms. Rooney's class.

  And so was he. Again.

  A left-back.

  The kids probably thought he was huge. Gigantic. He slid down in his seat. He pulled his head into his neck a little.

  A girl sat across from him. She was wearing a pink party dress and dirty red sneakers. Her legs looked like Popsicle sticks.

  She had a little white rubber horse on her desk. The kind with a horn on its head. Richard forgot what it was called.

  The girl looked over at him and smiled. Maybe she thought he was the one with the wet smell.

  He frowned at her. Then he pulled in his breath. Sniffing loudly, he stuck the eraser end of his new pencil up his nose.

  He shook his head. The pencil swung back and forth gently.

  The girl looked as if she were going to throw up.

  Good.

  Ms. Rooney began to call the roll.

  “Emily Arrow,” she said.

  “Here,” said the girl in the party dress and the red sneakers.

  Richard tore a piece of paper out of his new notebook. He started to draw a picture of a ship. Then a plane with bombs coming down. Then lots of bullets.

  “Timothy Barbiero,” Ms. Rooney said.

  Richard drew a shark with lots of pointed teeth.

  Ms. Rooney said some more names.

  Richard put in a sailor jumping over the side of the ship, right into the shark's mouth, “Yee-ouch,” he said under his breath.

  “Richard Best” Ms. Rooney said.

  “Beast,” Richard said.

  Ms. Rooney looked up. She shook her head.

  Matthew turned around. He grinned at Richard.

  His teeth were big and curled on the ends.

  Richard ran his tongue over his teeth. Little bitty stumpy things.

  He pressed on them hard to see if they would wiggle.

  They didn't.

  He was probably the only kid his age in the whole world who still had baby top teeth, Richard thought.

  He closed his mouth and clamped his teeth together. He'd have to talk with his mouth almost closed so no one would notice.

  He tried to practice under his breath. “I am from outer space,” he said without moving his lips.

  Ms. Rooney stopped calling the names and looked in his direction.

  Richard ducked his head.

  “Alex Walker,” said Ms. Rooney.

  Richard folded his shark picture and put it inside his desk.

  He looked out the window while Ms. Rooney called the rest of the names. He wondered what the kids in his old class were doing. His real class.

  Maybe he could see them at lunchtime. He'd stay away from these babies. He wouldn't even eat at their table.

  He'd tell the old kids he was left back because …

  Because what?

  Ms. Rooney was tapping on her desk with her ruler.

  “Til bet,” she said, “we're going to have the banner in Room 113 every week.”

  The blue banner, Richard thought. Shiny and beautiful. It had a million silky yellow strings hanging down from the bottom.

  “Remember,” Ms. Rooney said. “You have to be the best class to have the banner.”

  That's what the banner said in big white letters.

  BEST.

  “The best,” Ms. Rooney said again.

  Ms. Rooney had said the same things last year, he remembered. He began to dust the top of his table with the little brush on the end of his eraser.

  Chapter 2

  Richard was hot lunch.

  It was Monday. The worst day.

  He looked down at his tray: slippery gray chow mein, a dusty kind of peanut butter sandwich, and a paper cup of vanilla ice cream.

  He dumped everything off the tray into the garbage pail while the monitor was looking the other way.

  Then he changed his mind. He fished around for the ice cream. It had a tan noodle stuck to the top.

  He picked the noodle off, licked the top of the ice cream, and ducked out the side door of the cafeteria.

  The hall was empty.

  No, it wasn't.

  At the other end Ms. Rooney was coming around the corner. She had a bunch of yellow and brownpaper leaves in her hand. They were probably for the hall bulletin board.

  Richard was just passing the boys' room. Quickly he slid inside.

  A first-grade boy was washing his hands at the sink.

  He looked like a midget, Richard thought.

  “Hi,” Richard said.

  The boy looked as if he were ready to cry.

  “Don't cry,” Richard said.

  The boy didn't answer. He rubbed his wet hands on the sides of his pants.

  “I used to be afraid too,” Richard said. “When I was in first grade.” He glanced out the window to see if any of the kids in his old class were outside yet. “That was a long time ago,” he added.

  The boy nodded. “What grade are you in?”

  “Uh … fourth,” Richard said, lying.

  “Wow,” the kid said. He circled around Richard and started for the hall.

  “Hey. Wait a minute. What's your name?” Richard called after him.

  But by that time the kid had raced into the hall. He must have bumped right into Ms. Rooney.

  Richard heard a loud oof.

  “Slow down, young man,” Ms. Rooney said. “Did I hear you talking to someone in there? It sounded like—”

  “A fourth-grader,” the kid said.

  Richard ducked into one of the stalls and closed the door. He waited a few minutes, then he stuck his head out.

  Ms. Rooney was probably gone by now, he thought.

  He could hear some noise on the playground. It was time to go outside.

  He stopped to look in the mirror. He made his eyes cross and stuck out his front teeth. “lam the beast,” he said. “The beast with the baby teeth.”

  He bent down and slurped up some water from the dripping faucet.

  Richard dashed out of the boys' room.

  Emily Something, the girl in the party dress, was walking along ahead of him.

  He gave her a little poke.

  She twirled around to see who it was.

  Richard grinned, trying not to show his teeth.

  She kicked out with one of her dirty red sneakers and just missed his shin.

  He jumped back. “Hey. Cut it out.”

  She screwed up her eyes into little slits. “Stay away from me,” she said, “or I'll nail you. My father's a cop.”

  Richard backed away. He made believe he was looking at the yellow-and-brown leaves on the bulletin board.

  He waited until Emily was gone.

  Then he measured the steps with his eyes. He tried to take them two at a time.

  It didn't work.

  He tripped a little, stopped to rub his knee, then slowly walked outside.

  The kids in his old class were running around on the baseball field, getting ready to play.

  He trotted over to them.

  “I've got first base,” he yelled.

  “You've got nothing,” Drake Evans yelled. “I've got first base.”

  “I called it first,” Richard said. He moved over to stand next to the base.

  Drake came charging over. So did a couple of the other kids.

  “No left-backs,” Drake said.

  “Hurry up,” said Andrew Bock. He tossed a ball into the air.

  Richard looked at the kids. “I called it first,” he said again.

  Kevin Klein shook his head. “You're not in our class anymore.” He looked as if he felt sorry for Richard.

  “By a mistake,” Richard said. “By accident.”

  “By dumbness,” Drake said. He moved around Richard and stood on the first-base bag.

  Richard wanted to push Drake off first. But Drake looked different this year.

  Kind of fat. And big. With muscles.

  Kevin shook his head again. “Sorry, Richard,” he said. “Maybe you'll get skipped next year.”

  “Listen,” Richard said. “I'll teil you why I was left back. Ms. Rooney made a big m

istake. She mixed up all the marks.”

  “Are you sure?” Kevin asked.

  Richard nodded slowly. “Someone is very lucky,” he said in a loud voice. He stared at Drake Evans. “Someone better watch out that Ms. Rooney doesn't unmix her records.”

  Drake shoved Richard on the arm. “I don't believe you.”

  “Yeah,” Andrew said. “Richard's making that up.”

  Richard rubbed his arm a little. It probably would be black and blue by this afternoon. “Someone else should have been left back instead,” he yelled.

  But no one was paying attention to him now. Except for Kevin.

  Kevin licked his lips. “Are you sure?” he asked Richard.

  Before Richard could answer, about four kids began to yell at him to get off the field.

  Slowly Richard walked away.

  He wished he had never started that whole story.

  Not only was he a left-back. Now he was a left-back liar.

  Chapter 3

  It was Monday again, a rainy day.

  Richard tried to wiggle his feet around in his sneakers. His socks were still wet from a puddle he had stamped on. His toes felt as if they were stuck together.

  The classroom door opened. Someone came in. Someone Richard had never seen before. She was tall and skinny. She had grayish skin the color of Emily Arrow's jump rope, and her eyeglasses were stuck up on her grayish hair.

  She was probably about eighty years old, Richard thought.

  “My name is Mrs. Paris,” she said. “I've just come from another school. I'm the new reading teacher.”

  Ms. Rooney stopped writing the boardwork. She put down her chalk.

  “I have good news for you,” Mrs. Paris said.

  “I'm going to take a few children for reading every day. Extra help for those who are having trouble.”

  Richard scrunched down in his seat. He could read about ten words.

  He'd probably be grown-up before he got into a book with a hard cover on it, he thought.

  Ms. Rooney pushed at her puffy brown hair and looked around the room. “That's wonderful,” she said.

  Richard scrunched down a little further. He stared at Matthew's neck.

  Ms. Rooney pointed. “Take Matthew.”

  Matthew slammed his notebook into his desk.

  Too bad for Matthew, Richard thought.

  “Alex Walker,” said Ms. Rooney. “And Emily Arrow.”

  Emily Arrow.

  Richard couldn't believe it. He thought Emily was the smartest kid in the class.

  Emily could add up numbers as fast as anything.

  But Ms. Rooney hadn't started reading groups yet. Richard hadn't heard Emily read.

  She was probably terrible. Worse than he was.

  Good. Terrific.

  “I think that's all,” Ms. Rooney was saying to Mrs. Paris.

  Richard shoved his tongue against his top tooth. It was still stuck in his gum like a little piece of cement.

  So what? He didn't have to go to reading.

  “Come, children,” Mrs. Paris said. “We'll go down to the Reading Room.”

  “Wait a minute,” Ms. Rooney said. “I think I forgot someone.”

  Richard didn't even wait to hear his name called. He pushed his notebook inside his desk.

  “I don't know how I could have forgotten Richard,” said Ms. Rooney. “Richard Best.”

  “Richard Worst,” Emily said.

  They followed Mrs. Paris down the hall. The Reading Room was full of junk.

  The pictures on the bulletin board were left over from last spring, when the other reading teacher was there. There were dirty-looking bunnies with cotton-pufftails, and tulips that didn't have any color left.

  All the windows were closed and the shades were down.

  “It smells in here,” Matthew said.

  Richard was surprised that Matthew could smell anything. “Like what?” he asked.

  Matthew raised his shoulders up in the air. “Sauerkraut, I think. Or asparagus.”

  “Smells like someone wet the bed,” Alex Walker said.

  Mrs. Paris poked at her eyeglasses.

  “Just take everything off the chairs,” she said.

  She went over to the windows, opened one a little, and began to snap up the shades.

  Richard slid into a seat at the big round table. Alex sat down on one side of him and Matthew on the other.

  Emily sat across from him. He tried not to look at her.

  There was a pile of drawing paper in the middle of the table. He reached for the top piece.

  He'd draw a picture of his mother. He'd make her standing in the kitchen on her day off from Penney's department store. He'd put his sister, Holly, in too.

  By this time Mrs. Paris was finished with the windows. She dragged another chair to the table.

  “Now,” she said, and sat down next to Emily Arrow.

  Richard added two lines for a neck.

  “Time for me to know your names,” Mrs. Paris said.

  “Matthew.”

  “Alex.”

  Mrs. Paris looked at Richard. “How about you?”

  “Beast,” Richard said. He looked at Mrs. Paris out of the corner of his eye.

  Mrs. Paris blinked.

  “It is not,” Emily said.

  “What did you say?” Mrs. Paris asked him.

  Richard looked out at the rain. It was smashing into the windowpanes. There was a puddle on the ledge under the open window.

  “Beast,” he said.

  Mrs. Paris leaned forward a little. “Did you say beast?” she asked.

  Richard raised his shoulders up in the air. His old friend Joseph had called him that. Richard Beast instead of Richard Best.

  His old friend from his old class.

  Now his old friend had moved away. And his old class was gone too.

  Matthew poked at him under the table and grinned a little.

  But Richard didn't smile back. Who wanted to be friends with a baby? Especially someone with big dirty ears. Someone who still wet the bed.

  Mrs. Paris nodded. “All right,” she said. “Beast it is.” She looked at Emily. “And what's your name?”

  “I'm Emily,” Emily said. “Emily Arrow. And that's my real name.”

  Mrs. Paris smiled a little.

  Richard almost thought she winked at him.

  He drew some more lines on his picture.

  Mrs. Paris started to pass out some reading books. Skinny little things with covers you could bend in two seconds, Richard thought.

  “It's a funny thing about learning,” Mrs. Paris said. “Some people zip into reading right away. Some people take a little longer.” She smiled at them. “But don't worry. Everybody's good at something.”

  Richard looked around. He wondered if that was true. Emily was great at adding. He was good at art. He wondered what Matthew was good at. Wetting the bed, maybe.

  He opened his baby reader.

  There were five words on the first page.

  He knew two of them.

  He raised his hand. “Can I go to the boys' room?”

  Mrs. Paris nodded. “I figured that was what you were going to ask me,” she said.

  Richard got as far as the door.

  “Don't take too long,” she said. “I've got a pile of Candy Corn in my desk.”

  Chapter 4

  Two weeks later was assembly. The whole school was going to see a puppet show.

  Ms. Rooney made the class sit boy-girl, boy-girl. Somehow Richard got stuck between Emily Arrow and Jill Simon.

  Emily stuck her feet up against the back of the seat in front of her. Then she leaned her elbow on the armrest next to Richard.

  He moved away a little.

  He began to feel his top teeth with his tongue. Maybe he should start wiggling them around, he thought. Maybe he should wiggle them about a hundred times a day.

  Loosen them up.

  He reached into his mouth.

  “Sucking your thumb?” Emily asked.

  Richard pulled his fingers out of his mouth.

  Mrs. Kettle, the strictest teacher in the wholeschool, was walking up and down the aisle. She saw Emily with her feet up. She waved her finger at Emily's red sneakers.

  Emily put her feet down. She left her elbow hanging on Richard's side of the seat.

  Richard wondered what would happen if he gave her a good punch in the arm.

  Instead, he began to push at his teeth with his tongue.

  Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, he counted to himself.

  His tongue began to get tired. But his teeth didn't seem to be moving one little bit.

 

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