Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing Read Online Free Page B

I’ve discovered that most girls are!
    The worst thing about Sheila is the way she’s always trying to touch me. And when she does she yells, “Peter’s got the cooties! Peter’s got the cooties!” I don’t believe in cooties anymore. When I was in second grade I used to examine myself to see if I had them. But I never found any. By fourth grade most kids give up on cooties. But not Sheila. She’s still going strong. So I have to keep a safe distance from her.
    My mother thinks Sheila is the greatest. “She’s so smart,” my mother says. “And some day she’s going to be a real beauty.” Now that’s the funniest! Because Sheila looks a lot like the monkeys that Fudge is so crazy about. So maybe she’ll look beautiful to some ape!
But never to me.
    Me and Jimmy have this special group of rocks where we like to play when we’re in the park. We play secret agent up there. Jimmy can imitate all kinds of foreign accents. Probably because his father’s a part-time actor. When he’s not acting he teaches a class at City College.
    Today, when we got to our rocks, who should be perched up there but Sheila. She was pretending to read a book. But I think she was just waiting for me and Jimmy. To find out what we’d do when we found her on our own personal rocks.
    â€œHey, Sheila!” I said. “Those are our rocks.”
    â€œSays who?” she asked.
    â€œCome on, Sheila,” Jimmy said, climbing up. “You know me and Peter hang out here.”
    â€œToo bad for you!” Sheila said.
    â€œOh, Sheila!” I shouted. “Go and find yourself another rock!”
    â€œI like this one,” she said, as if she owned the park. “So why don’t you two go find another rock?”
    Just then who should come tearing down the path but Fudge. My mother was right behind him hollering, “Fudgie . . . wait for Mommy!”
    But when Fudge gets going he doesn’t wait for anybody. He was after some pigeons. “Birdie . . . here birdie,” he called. That brother of mine loves birds. But he can’t get it through his head that the birds aren’t about to let him catch them.
    â€œHi, Mom,” I said.
    My mother stopped running. “Peter! Am I glad to see you. I can’t keep up with Fudge.”
    â€œMrs. Hatcher . . . Mrs. Hatcher,” Sheila called, scrambling down from our rock, “I’ll watch Fudge for you. I’ll take very good care of him. Can I, Mrs. Hatcher? Oh please!” Sheila jumped up and down and begged some more.
    Jimmy gave me an elbow in the ribs. He thought that my mother would let Sheila watch Fudge and then we’d be rid of her. We’d be free to play secret agent. But Jimmy didn’t know that my mother would never trust Sheila with her dear little boy.
    Fudge, in the meantime, was screaming. “Come back, birdies . . . come back to Fudgie!”
    Then my mother did a strange thing. She checked her watch and said, “You know, I do have to run back to the apartment. I forgot to turn on the oven. Do you really think you could keep an eye on Fudge for just ten minutes?”
    â€œOf course I can, Mrs. Hatcher,” Sheila said. “I know all about baby-sitting from my sister.”
    Sheila’s sister Libby is in seventh grade. She’s about as beautiful as Sheila. The only difference is, she’s bigger.
    My mother hesitated. “I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve never left Fudge before.” She looked at me. “Peter. . . .”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWill you and Jimmy help Sheila watch Fudge while I run home for a minute?”
    â€œOh, Mom! Do we have to?”
    â€œPlease, Peter. I’ll be right back. I’ll feel better if all three of you are watching him.”
    â€œWhat do you say?” I asked Jimmy.
    â€œSure,” he answered. “Why