Mostly Monty (3 page)

When the first-graders lined up to check out their books, Mr. Harris nodded his approval of Monty’s choice. But Joey Thomas, who was standing in line behind Monty, shook his head. “You can’t read that book. It’s too big. And it will be too hard.”

Once again, Monty swallowed hard. He took a deep breath and blinked back the tears that he felt forming in his eyes. Even though Joey lived on his street, the two boys never played together.

But Ilene Kelly, who was standing in front of Monty, spoke to Joey. “You’re just jealous,” she said to him. She looked at Monty. “I heard Mrs. Meaney say you’re a good reader,” she told him.

“That’s right,” agreed Cora Rose, who was standing in front of Ilene.

Monty knew the girls were right. He was a good reader. He was probably the best reader in his class. When the students read aloud, he’d heard the others stumble over words that he thought were very easy. He smiled at Ilene and Cora. It was nice of them to defend him. But he wished that he was good at something else, like running or playing soccer or making friends. He looked down at his library book. He looked forward to reading it at home, but he still wished he was someone else and not Monty.

One day, the first-graders talked about their pets. Mrs. Meaney said they would write stories about them. Only three children in the class didn’t have pets, and of course, Monty was one of them. “You can write about a pet you would like to have,” Mrs. Meaney told the three petless students.

Monty really wished he had a pet. His first choice would have been a dog. Second choice was a cat. Third was a guinea pig. Fourth was a hamster. His choices grew smaller and smaller, but his mother’s response was louder and louder. “No dog, no cat. No guinea pig. No hamster. All those animals are out,” she told him. “Animal hair will give you an asthma attack. I’m sorry, Monty,” she said. “How about some goldfish? They don’t have hair.” But you can’t cuddle a goldfish. In fact, you’d get wet when you even tried to touch a fish. So Monty turned that offer down.

Even though his mother had said no to all the animals that he suggested, Monty kept thinking about getting a pet.

“A baby kitten is very, very small,” said Monty. “It wouldn’t have much hair.”

“A baby kitten would grow into a cat before long, and it would have lots of hair,” his mother reminded him. And then before Monty could begin begging once again for a guinea pig or a hamster — a pet that would start out small and never grow big — she said, “It doesn’t take much hair to start an asthma attack. Your father and I don’t want you to have trouble breathing.”

“If hair gives me an asthma attack, how come I’m not allergic to you or Dad?” asked Monty.

“That’s a good question,” said Monty’s mom. “The next time we see the doctor, we’ll have to ask him. Maybe he knows the answer.”

So Monty wrote a report about a pet dinosaur.

“Nobody can have a pet dinosaur,” said Joey Thomas when Monty read his report aloud in class.

“If I’m writing about a pretend pet, I guess it can be anything I want,” said Monty.

Mrs. Meaney agreed.
Great job!
she wrote on Monty’s paper. She drew a little smiley face on the paper too.

One afternoon, when Monty was playing in front of his house, he noticed something crawling on the sidewalk. It was a green caterpillar with a few black hairs sticking out of its body. He stopped to watch it. Then he picked it up. He thought he’d put the caterpillar on a bush so no one would step on it. Then he had a better idea. He put it on his arm. He watched as the caterpillar moved its small head around and then slowly began walking up his sleeve.

Monty bent his head down close to the caterpillar and took a deep breath. Nothing happened. At once, he felt a glow of delight. It appeared that he was not allergic to caterpillars. He watched as the caterpillar slowly moved up his arm.

“I bet you think my arm is a mountain,” Monty whispered to the caterpillar.

Of course, the caterpillar could not respond. It just kept moving slowly upward.

When the caterpillar reached his shoulder, Monty picked it up and put it back down by his wrist. Once again, the caterpillar began its mountain climb. Walking carefully so as not to disturb the small creature that was climbing up his arm, Monty went into the house.

“Mom!” he shouted to his mother. “I have a pet!”

Mrs. Morris came running from the kitchen. She saw the green caterpillar just as it was once again about to reach her son’s shoulder.

“Is that your pet?” she asked with relief.

“Yes. It’s okay if I keep it, isn’t it?” asked Monty. “I’m not allergic to caterpillars. It hardly has any hairs at all.”

“Of course you can keep it,” said Monty’s mom. “Let me see what we can put it in.”

Monty followed his mother into the kitchen. From the cupboard she took an empty mayonnaise jar. “I think this will make a good home,” said Mrs. Morris.

“I’m going to put some twigs and leaves inside the jar,” said Monty excitedly. “It will make my caterpillar feel more like he’s still outdoors.”

“Good idea,” agreed Mrs. Morris. “Let’s see if I can make some holes in the lid so there will be enough air for the caterpillar to breathe.”

Monty named the caterpillar Charlie. That night, Charlie slept inside his new home. At his dad’s suggestion, Monty had put a bottle cap with fresh water into the jar in case Charlie got thirsty during the night.

Monty realized that as pets go, Charlie was awfully small. He couldn’t pet him much either because his parents thought it might disturb the caterpillar. Still, there was something special about him. Maybe it was because Monty had discovered Charlie by himself, or maybe it was because he had given him a name.

At school the next day, he told Mrs. Meaney that he had a new pet. She seemed surprised when she heard that Charlie was a green caterpillar with black hairs. And it was Monty who was surprised when he came home from school one day to discover that Charlie was beginning to build a cocoon around himself.

Monty checked on Charlie every morning when he woke up, then again after school, and again before bedtime. Soon he couldn’t see Charlie because he was hidden inside the cocoon. “I bet it’s nice and cozy in there,” Monty told his parents. Unfortunately, Charlie wasn’t very interesting to watch now that he was inside the cocoon.

Then one morning several weeks later, Monty noticed that the cocoon was open. On the bottom of the jar was a moth with pale yellow wings.

He ran with the jar into the kitchen to show his parents this new development. They were both surprised. Then Monty’s dad said, “You know, Monty, moths and butterflies have wings so they can fly. Don’t you think you should let Charlie use those new wings of his?”

“You mean let him go?” asked Monty.

Mr. Morris nodded.

Monty studied the creature inside the jar. The wings moved slightly as he watched.

“If I had wings, I’d want to fly,” said Monty with a sigh. “I guess Charlie should fly too.” He started to open the jar.

“Wait! Not in the house,” said his mother. “You can open the jar just before you go to school.”

Monty put the jar on the kitchen table and went back into his bedroom. He was still wearing his pajamas, so he had to get dressed. Then he returned to the kitchen and had his breakfast: corn flakes with milk and sliced banana.