took them to the river bank. Louis kept his helmet on while he ate.
âWhy do you keep that thing on all the time?â Matthew asked.
âBecause Iâm sick and tired of being called Dumbo and Elephant Ears and all that junk,â Louis said.
Matthew looked at the water.
âDonât pay any attention to them,â he finally said. âI think your ears are nice.â
âWhy?â Louis said.
âWell,â said Matthew, âwhen the sun shines through them, theyâre all pink and everything.â
âOh,â said Louis.
3
One day right after school started, Louisâ mother bought him three new turtleneck shirts. He wore the yellow one first. At lunch time, he hooked his new shirt over his ears and tucked it under his chin while he ate his egg salad sandwich.
âWhat a slob!â skinny Ernie said. He unwrapped his marshmallow fluff sandwich. âWhereâd you get such a pair of handles?â Ernie said, his mouth full of marshmallow fluff.
Talk about slobs. If the bell hadnât rung just then, Louis mightâve pushed the second half of Ernieâs sandwich in his face.
Louis had orders to wait for Tom to walk him home. Tom was six and afraid of lots of things. Big dogs, roller coasters, and thunder and lightning among them.
Louis walked so fast that day Tom had a tough time keeping up. When they got home, Louisâ mother asked him if heâd go next door to Mrs. Beebleâs to borrow an onion.
There was nothing in the world Louis liked better than to be sent on an errand to Mrs. Beebleâs. Except for visiting Matthew. But he had had a hard day and he felt like giving his mother guff.
âI donât like onions,â he said.
âWeâre having stew and you canât have stew without an onion,â his mother said. She smiled at him. âYou look beautiful in your new shirt, Louis. But youâd look even more beautiful if you didnât have egg salad all over your front. Why donât you go and change into another shirt?â
âOh, Mom,â Louis turned the corners of his mouth down and frowned. He pretended he didnât like it when his mother said he looked beautiful. Mothers thought their kids were beautiful even if they were as ugly as sin. Still, he couldnât help smiling. He took the stairs three at a time and put on his new blue turtleneck and his football helmet and went next door to see Mrs. Beeble.
Mrs. Beeble had taught Louis how to play poker. They used pink and white candy mints for poker chips. Whoever won got to eat all the chips. Mrs. Beeble had a terrible sweet tooth. Even sweeter than Louisâ, which was going some. Also, she was a superior poker player.
âYouâll have to get up pretty early in the morning to beat Bertha Beeble at poker,â sheâd told him when they first started to play.
That had been two years ago when Louis was only eight. Heâd taken her at her word and set his alarm clock. The sun wasnât even up when the clock went off and Louis hopped out of bed to check Mrs. Beebleâs house. The windows were dark. Heâd been up pretty early in the morning but Mrs. Beeble still won.
The best thing about playing poker, Louis thought, was arranging the cards. He liked fixing his in a little fan shape. He especially liked getting all one color. All hearts was best of all.
The door opened even before he knocked. Mrs. Beeble was nearsighted without her glasses, which she always misplaced. She squinted at him.
âItâs Louis, is it?â she said. âYour head is so big in that contraption I didnât know you. Come on in and take that thing off. All that pressure, itâs enough to addle the brains.â
They sat down at the kitchen table. Louis kept his helmet on.
âYou got time for a hand or two?â Mrs. Beeble asked, shuffling the cards in a professional way that Louis would never master.
He nodded and Mrs. Beeble dealt
âWhy do you keep that thing on all the time?â Matthew asked.
âBecause Iâm sick and tired of being called Dumbo and Elephant Ears and all that junk,â Louis said.
Matthew looked at the water.
âDonât pay any attention to them,â he finally said. âI think your ears are nice.â
âWhy?â Louis said.
âWell,â said Matthew, âwhen the sun shines through them, theyâre all pink and everything.â
âOh,â said Louis.
3
One day right after school started, Louisâ mother bought him three new turtleneck shirts. He wore the yellow one first. At lunch time, he hooked his new shirt over his ears and tucked it under his chin while he ate his egg salad sandwich.
âWhat a slob!â skinny Ernie said. He unwrapped his marshmallow fluff sandwich. âWhereâd you get such a pair of handles?â Ernie said, his mouth full of marshmallow fluff.
Talk about slobs. If the bell hadnât rung just then, Louis mightâve pushed the second half of Ernieâs sandwich in his face.
Louis had orders to wait for Tom to walk him home. Tom was six and afraid of lots of things. Big dogs, roller coasters, and thunder and lightning among them.
Louis walked so fast that day Tom had a tough time keeping up. When they got home, Louisâ mother asked him if heâd go next door to Mrs. Beebleâs to borrow an onion.
There was nothing in the world Louis liked better than to be sent on an errand to Mrs. Beebleâs. Except for visiting Matthew. But he had had a hard day and he felt like giving his mother guff.
âI donât like onions,â he said.
âWeâre having stew and you canât have stew without an onion,â his mother said. She smiled at him. âYou look beautiful in your new shirt, Louis. But youâd look even more beautiful if you didnât have egg salad all over your front. Why donât you go and change into another shirt?â
âOh, Mom,â Louis turned the corners of his mouth down and frowned. He pretended he didnât like it when his mother said he looked beautiful. Mothers thought their kids were beautiful even if they were as ugly as sin. Still, he couldnât help smiling. He took the stairs three at a time and put on his new blue turtleneck and his football helmet and went next door to see Mrs. Beeble.
Mrs. Beeble had taught Louis how to play poker. They used pink and white candy mints for poker chips. Whoever won got to eat all the chips. Mrs. Beeble had a terrible sweet tooth. Even sweeter than Louisâ, which was going some. Also, she was a superior poker player.
âYouâll have to get up pretty early in the morning to beat Bertha Beeble at poker,â sheâd told him when they first started to play.
That had been two years ago when Louis was only eight. Heâd taken her at her word and set his alarm clock. The sun wasnât even up when the clock went off and Louis hopped out of bed to check Mrs. Beebleâs house. The windows were dark. Heâd been up pretty early in the morning but Mrs. Beeble still won.
The best thing about playing poker, Louis thought, was arranging the cards. He liked fixing his in a little fan shape. He especially liked getting all one color. All hearts was best of all.
The door opened even before he knocked. Mrs. Beeble was nearsighted without her glasses, which she always misplaced. She squinted at him.
âItâs Louis, is it?â she said. âYour head is so big in that contraption I didnât know you. Come on in and take that thing off. All that pressure, itâs enough to addle the brains.â
They sat down at the kitchen table. Louis kept his helmet on.
âYou got time for a hand or two?â Mrs. Beeble asked, shuffling the cards in a professional way that Louis would never master.
He nodded and Mrs. Beeble dealt