Fiddlesticks Read Free Page A

about Ronny.
    â€œWow, you’re good,” Jason said. “Did you play soccer in Korea?”
    Shawn grinned. He didn’t want Jason to know about his secret practice. “Not play in Korea.”
    Jason seemed surprised. “Let’s try some fancy moves.”
    â€œI try,” Shawn said.
    Jason grinned and showed off his fancy footwork.
    Shawn was getting the feel of it. He was doing really well.
    Suddenly, a shadow fell over him. An enormous shadow. The shadow followed the ball as it rolled downfield.
    Jason yelled at the big shadow. “Hey! We had the ball first!”
    But Shawn didn’t say anything. He kept dribbling. There was no other choice. It was dribble or die.
    The shadow was roaring now.
    Too close!

SEVEN
    Shawn raced toward the goal area. He still had the ball.
    â€œFiddlesticks don’t play soccer!” the shadow yelled.
    Shawn tried to shut out the horrible nickname.
    Fiddlesticks.
    The name burned like red peppers.
    Shawn couldn’t think about the ball. He couldn’t think about his feet. And the goal—which way was the goal?
    â€œFiddlesticks . . . fiddlesticks!” the voice shouted.
    Shawn knew that voice. It was the put-down voice. That voice kept him awake at night. Sometimes, he heard it in his worst dreams.
    Shawn turned around slowly.
    Ronny rushed at him like a giant. “Go back where you came from,” he sneered.
    But he kept coming.
    Closer.
    Shawn was scared stiff. He sped up.
    â€œDon’t you understand English, fiddlesticks boy?” Ronny said. “Go back to Korea! I don’t want you here!”
    Jason caught up. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”
    Ronny stopped running. He turned and looked Jason in the eye. “Don’t stick up for fiddlesticks!” Ronny roared.
    â€œStop it!” yelled Jason. “Shawn’s not fiddlesticks! He’s a person !”
    Shawn stopped running. He stood very still. He saw the angry glow in Ronny’s eyes and was afraid for Jason.
    Ronny put up his fists.
    Shawn gulped. “Not fight!” he shouted. “Please, not fight!”
    Ronny glared at Shawn. “Keep out of this! You got me in trouble with Miss Hershey. You’ll be sorry for that!”
    Then Ronny spotted the soccer ball. He shoved Jason aside. He charged down the field toward Shawn.
    Zoom!
    With a mighty kick, the ball flew across the field.
    Ronny roared like a lion. He dribbled a few feet downfield. Then he booted the ball toward the goal.
    But the kick was off. Way off. It landed out of the line.
    Jason started laughing.
    Shawn didn’t. He was too scared.
    Just then, the recess bell rang.
    Jason pulled on Shawn’s shirt sleeve. “Let’s get out of here.”
    Shawn’s face was burning. “You notfight. That good thing.”
    â€œThis time Ronny was lucky,” Jason muttered. “I wanted to smash his face.”
    The boys hurried to the classroom door. They huffed and puffed.
    Shawn looked back over his shoulder.
    Jason looked back, too.
    â€œRonny not coming,” Shawn said.
    â€œThat was close,” Jason said. Then he wiped his face on his sleeve. “Hey, you’re really good. You should come practice soccer after school. After violin.”
    Shawn wanted to. He really did. But Ronnie Kitch might be there.
    Should he take the chance?

EIGHT
    Ronny bugged Shawn all afternoon. He poked him with a pencil. He kicked his chair. He muttered put-downs.
    â€œYou told about the nickname,” Ronny whispered. “Miss Hershey scolded me at lunch.”
    Shawn thought Miss Hershey’s talk would change things. But it hadn’t. Ronny was still pestering him.
    Now Miss Hershey wasn’t looking.
    Ronny whispered again. “Better watch that dumb violin of yours. It might disappear!”
    Shawn curled his toes inside his shoes. Ronny was rotten. Was he a thief, too?
    Shawn didn’t want to sit near Ronny anymore. He couldn’t