Muggie Maggie Read Online Free Page A

discovered she was reading them because she couldn’t help it . Mrs. Leeper had written:

    Maggie was eager to carry the next message. She did not have to wait long for Mrs. Leeper to write a note for the principal. As soon as she closed the door—quietly, no slamming—Maggie slipped out the note that was written on the back of an old arithmetic paper and read the neatly formed words:

    Maggie was shocked. Maggie was angry.
    Mrs. Leeper had guessed she would peek. Maybe she had guessed all along, and now that Maggie could read cursive, she was saying mean things about her. But worst of all, Mrs. Leeper was waiting for an answer.
    Maggie wanted to crumple the note, but if she did that, Mrs. Leeper would want to know why Mr. Galloway had not sent a reply. She returned the note to its tattered envelope, dragged her feet into the principal’s office, and thrust it at him. She stood staring at the floor while he read it.
    â€œUm-hm,” he murmured, and Maggie heard his pen move across paper. “There you go, Maggie,” he said as he handed the remains of the envelope back to her. “Thank you.”
    â€œYou’re welcome,” said Maggie, and she got out of his office as fast as she could without running.
    I won’t peek, I won’t peek, she told herself, but of course, she finally had to peek. What normal third grader wouldn’t want to know what the principal had to say in time of crisis? This note said:

    Figuring out the long word before her name took a while, and then—well! First of all, Maggie was astonished that Mr. Galloway would call a teacher by her first name. Then Maggie was indignant. Mrs. Leeper hadn’t done a thing. Maggie had done all the work, and now her teacher was getting all the credit.
    Maggie dreaded returning to her classroom. She plodded along, trying to figure out how she could avoid it. She couldn’t, not even if she took time to go to the bathroom. Sooner or later she had to face her teacher.

    With red cheeks, she handed her teacher the remains of the envelope and was about to hurry to her seat when Mrs. Leeper caught her hand, pulled Maggie to her, gave her a big hug, and said, “I don’t think we need a message monitor anymore. Anyway, the envelope is worn out.” She tossed it, along with the note, into the wastebasket and said, “This is a happy day, Maggie.”
    Maggie was both pleased and confused. She had expected Mrs. Leeper to say something about cursive, but the teacher had not. She had not even said, “It’s about time,” or “I knew you could do it.” She just smiled at Maggie, who finally felt she could smile back.
    â€œYou know something, Mrs. Leeper?” Maggie said shyly. “Your cursive is neater than any other teacher’s cursive.”
    Mrs. Leeper laughed. “It has to be. I’m the one who teaches it.”
    Maggie walked slowly to her seat. She could now make her letters flow together, and she had made her teacher happy, but maybe when she grew up and did not have to please grown-ups all the time, she might decide not to write cursive. She could print anytime she wanted. She had plenty of time to think it over.
    â€œMuggie Maggie,” said Kirby. “Teacher’s pet.”
    Maggie decided against pushing the table into his stomach.
    Instead, she sat down and wrote a note in cursive, which she shoved across the table:

About the Author
    Beverly Cleary is one of America’s most popular authors. Born in McMinnville, Oregon, she lived on a farm in Yamhill until she was six and then moved to Portland. After college, as the children’s librarian in Yakima, Washington, she was challenged to find stories for non-readers. She wrote her first book, HENRY HUGGINS , in response to a boy’s question, “Where are the books about kids like us?”
      Mrs. Cleary’s books have earned her many prestigious awards, including the American