Fourth-Grade Disasters Read Online Free Page B

shove Mason off the end of the riser. Mason knew that Dunk didn’t have anything against him, particularly; it was just Dunk’s hobby to shove people.
    “Puff is loved by everyone!” Dunk sang, taking two steps toward Mason while bopping in time with the song.
    Mason had no choice but to take two steps closerto the edge of the riser. In the process, he wobbled forward and bumped into the tall girl in front of him, who turned around and gave him a dirty look. Mrs. Morengo’s eyes turned briefly in his direction.
    “Because he is so cool!” Dunk took another step toward Mason.
    Now there were no steps left for Mason to take. He tried to hold his ground, but it was hard to shove back against Dunk while pretending to sing.
    “Every day we shout hooray that Puff lives at our school!”
    Dunk won the shoving contest: Mason was off the riser, sprawled on the music room carpet. Once again he was a tipped-over teapot, but this time tipped with considerably more force and falling a considerably greater distance.

    Kids near him burst out laughing.
    Oh, how comical to see Mason lying on the floor!
    Mr. Griffith broke off playing, and Mrs. Morengo’s eyes turned Mason’s way as he sat rubbing his left knee and elbow. He’d probably be crippled for life, and instead of telling everybody that it was an old football injury, he’d have to say that it was an old Plainfield Platters singing-group injury.
    “Boys!” Mrs. Morengo said sternly, as if Mason’s landing on the floor had been as much his fault as Dunk’s, a deliberate attempt to arouse his classmates’ mirth.
    He didn’t bother to correct her.
    “Here,” she said, pointing to the spot in the front row on the other side of Brody. “You. What’s your name?”
    Mason hoped that she was talking to Dunk, but her eyes were plainly fixed on him.
    “Mason,” he mumbled.
    “Mason. Come stand here, so I can keep an eye on you.”
    Like a doomed man walking to his execution by firing squad, Mason took his place next to Brody. It was small comfort that Brody greeted him with a radiant grin.
    “All right,” Mrs. Morengo called out. “Let’s try this again. Mr. Griffith, take it from the top.”
    “Puff the Plainfield Dragon!” everybody sang.
    Mason could feel Mrs. Morengo’s beady eyes boring into him.
    Against his will, he sang, too.
    During writing time that morning, Mason read over the start of his story, “The Piano That Went on Strike.”
    Once upon a time there was a piano named Pedro. Pedro had a big problem. He did not like playing music.
    Mason felt Coach Joe looking over his shoulder. “Great start, Mason! Do you want to tell us a little bit more? Why doesn’t Pedro the piano like playing music? What
does
Pedro like to do?”
    Mason didn’t exactly
want
to tell anything more about Pedro’s likes and dislikes, but he supposed he could try to come up with something.
    As Coach Joe continued on his way around the room, Mason sat thinking.
    “Is Pedro out of tune?” It was Nora, who sat next to Mason on the other side from Brody. “Maybe Pedro doesn’t like playing music because he needs to be tuned.”
    Mason didn’t reply right away.
    “There has to be a reason why he doesn’t want to play.”
    Mason thought this over.
    “There’s always a reason for everything,” Nora said.
    “Is there?” Mason asked.
    “Of course! Things don’t just happen. Like, when an apple falls on the ground, the reason is gravity. Have you ever heard of Sir Isaac Newton?”
    Mason hadn’t.
    “He was the person who first discovered the law of gravity. And a whole bunch of other laws that explain why things happen the way they do. So you need to figure out why Pedro is the way he is.”
    “Maybe he’s shy,” Mason suggested.
    Pedro just felt stupid having people plunk on his keys,
plink, plink, plink
, playing whatever dumb notes they felt like playing. “Chopsticks.” Did any piano really
want
to play “Chopsticks”?
    “Then there has to be a reason why