Odds on Oliver Read Online Free Page B

saved your life, instead of you saving hers. Number two. Then instead of you getting Charlie down, the firemen had to go and get you. Number three.
    â€œPlus,” Arthur said, “we were gonna trap a muskrat or maybe a woodchuck, and look what we got. That’s number four, Ol. That’s a lot, four.”
    â€œSo?” Oliver said.
    â€œGet your act together, Ol, okay?” Arthur said.
    Oliver and Arthur lurked in the bushes, watching the folks arrive.
    Oliver brooded. It had all begun when U. Crumm slipped on the ice and smashed him flat. Nothing had gone right after that. He’d been going steadily downhill ever since.
    U. Crumm owed him one, Oliver figured.

9
    F IREWORKS
    U. Crumm got first place in the chow line. It was she who was to set off the fireworks, and she needed nourishment in the worst way.
    Oliver got U. Crumm in his sight and never let her out of it.
    â€œI’ll just have a tiny bit of everything,” U. Crumm said. She’d brought her own plate, which was about the size of a small trampoline.
    â€œI can’t stand those tiny little plates they give you,” she said to no one in particular.
    â€œI smell skunk,” many people said, wrinkling their noses and peering around.
    Oliver’s eyes followed U. Crumm’s fork and knife and spoon on the busy trip to and from her mouth. She ate piles of potato salad, gobs of gravy, heaps of ribs and fried chicken. Chocolate cake and strawberry shortcake with whipped cream. Hot dogs and hamburgers and macaroni salad.
    U. Crumm gobbled everything in sight and went back for more.
    But never once did her jaws stop moving, never once did she falter and choke, much less turn blue. She even swallowed what must have been bushels of olives, pits and all.
    Oliver watched, dismayed.
    U. Crumm chewed slowly, carefully, chewing every mouthful at least ten times. The food slid down nice and easy.
    There was nothing to be done. There was no hope.
    Then, at last, it was dark. Time for the fireworks.
    Aware that every eye was upon her, though she wasn’t counting Oliver’s, U. Crumm wiped the last crumb from her mouth and rose to the occasion.
    â€œMatch, please,” U. Crumm said in her carrying voice. A match was handed to her. She touched it to the rocket, the biggest, boldest rocket, which was to start the festivities. The night sky shattered into a thousand shards of red, white, and blue.
    â€œOooooohhhh,” the crowd sighed. “See how beautiful. Look at that. Wonderful.”
    On and on it went. The sky was crisscrossed by all the colors of the rainbow. And a few more besides.
    Finally, the boxes of fireworks were empty. The last Roman candle had fizzled, the last flare had fallen to earth.
    â€œFirst-rate job!” Oliver’s dad cried, pumping U. Crumm’s hand in thanks. “Perhaps you’d care for a little refreshment before you leave?”
    â€œOh, definitely,” U. Crumm said. “Setting off fireworks always makes me hungry.”
    U. Crumm would surely choke now, Oliver thought. This was it. This was what he’d waited for.
    Down the hatch went pretzels, one last piece of pepperoni pizza, a handful of Cheeseroonies, a few tacos for luck.
    U. Crumm then climbed aboard her big white Caddy with the gleaming tail fins and the shining chrome trim and headed for home.
    Oliver and Arthur crept out of the bushes.
    â€œWhat did we do wrong?” Arthur said, close to tears.
    â€œI wanted to be rich and famous,” Oliver said sadly. “But most of all, I wanted to be a hero. I blew it. I can’t do anything right.”
    Briefly, he thought of Carrot Hill Nursery School, of Ms. Mabel saying “Oud” and pointing to the door. Of his mother saying, “Poor little Oliver. What’s to become of him?”
    I’m a loser, Oliver thought. Losers are never heroes.
    He felt very sad, very sorry for himself.

10
    H EAP B IG H ERO !
    â€œGood night! Thanks a million.