For Your Paws Only Read Free Page A

Oz’s parents, then lifted an eyebrow, causing the pimples on his forehead to scamper for cover in his greasy black bangs. “Chip off the old block, aren’t you?” he sniped nastily. “Like mother, like son.”
    Oz blushed. His mother was a world-famous opera star, and like many divas, she was amply proportioned. “Larger than life,” his father always said admiringly. “Fat,” said the rest of the world.
    Don’t react, Oz told himself sternly. Reacting only fueled the fire where sharks were concerned. He tried to imagine what James Bond would do if he were here. James Bond was Oz’s hero. Agent 007 would never let a couple of thugs like Jordan and Tank rattle his cage. The British secret agent never let anything rattle his cage. Only problem was, Agent 007 didn’t have parents. At least none that Oz knew about. And Oz knew pretty much everything there was to know about James Bond.
    â€œThe name is Levinson. Oz Levinson,” Oz muttered under his breath, trying to bolster his flagging confidence.
    Across the playground, Oz’s father shrugged, said something to Oz’s mother, and then ushered her into the school along with the man in the pilgrim suit. Amelia Bean and her crew followed, cameras still rolling.
    D. B. leaned over to Oz. “Something’s up,” she whispered.
    â€œNo kidding,” Oz whispered back. “I wonder what?”
    They didn’t have to wait long for an answer. As soon as they had taken their seats in homeroom, Mrs. Busby clapped her hands.
    â€œStudents! I have a surprise for you this morning,” she announced.
    Here it comes , thought Oz, suddenly taking a keen interest in the surface of his desk. He scraped at an ink blot with his fingernail and almost—almost!—wished that he were invisible. Before Halloween, Oz had spent a lot of time wishing he were invisible. He still didn’t like being on the radar screen at school, and whatever his teacher’s surprise was, it was going to involve him. He was sure of it. He glanced over at the desk next to him. D. B. was scowling. She didn’t like being on the radar screen any more than he did.
    â€œTa-da!” trumpeted Mrs. Busby, flinging open the door to her classroom. The man in the pilgrim suit strode in, followed by Oz’s parents, Amelia Bean, and the Channel Twelve news crew. All of them were beaming.
    â€œThere you are, my little dumpling!” cried Luigi Levinson, waggling his fingers at his son.
    A ripple of laughter spread across the classroom. Oz stared down at his desk again, his face burning. He could practically feel the bull’s-eye growing on the back of his shirt. Jordan and Tank would lose no time making hay with that one.
    â€œOz, D. B., would you please come up here?” said Mrs. Busby.
    Oz and D. B. exchanged a glance. D. B. lifted one skinny shoulder in a half-shrug, then rose from her seat and marched up to the front of the classroom. His face still red with embarrassment, Oz followed reluctantly.
    â€œRoll ’em,” said Amelia Bean.
    The camera’s bright lights were hot, and Oz blinked in the glare. He started to sweat. His glasses crept slowly down his perspiring nose, and he prodded at them anxiously.
    The man in the pilgrim suit stepped forward. He pulled a scroll of fake parchment paper from inside his coat, unrolled it, cleared his throat, and then announced: “Hear ye, hear ye! A Thanksgiving proclamation for Miss Delilah Bean and Mr. Ozymandias Levinson courtesy of Mayflower Flour. ‘Your ship always comes in when you bake with Mayflower Flour!’ ”
    He paused to let the brief commercial message sink in, then cleared his throat again and continued. “Insomuch as your recipe for pumpkin chocolate-chip bread has been tested and declared worthy, you are hereby declared finalists in the Twenty-Fifth Annual Mayflower Flour Bake-Off, junior division!”
    D. B. glared at Oz.