Mostly Monty Read Free

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.

    All the time he was eating, he watched the new Charlie. He would be a little bit sad to let him go, he thought. But he knew it was the right thing to do.

    Monty’s parents stood next to him as he took the jar outside. He removed the lid. Monty waited, but Charlie didn’t fly out.
    “Maybe Charlie wants to stay with me, even if he can fly away,” said Monty hopefully.
    “Maybe he’s not quite ready to go yet,” said Monty’s mom. “But it’s time for you to leave for school. So let’s just rest the open jar on this window ledge.”
    That seemed like a good plan. “Good-bye, Charlie,” Monty called as he picked up his backpack. “Maybe I’ll see you this afternoon.”
    “And maybe you won’t,” said Monty’s dad. “If he’s gone, you’ll know he’s off having a good time using his new wings.”
    As it turned out, Charlie was not in the jar when Monty returned home from school. But Monty wasn’t too sad about it. He thought that if he watched carefully, he might get to see Charlie flying by one day soon. He had another thought too. If he kept his eyes open, he was almost sure to find another caterpillar, which could move into the vacant jar at his house.

One Saturday morning, when Monty was outside searching for another caterpillar, he saw a huge pile of items sitting at the end of the driveway next door. There was an old chair with a cane bottom that had a hole in it, two old suitcases, a huge stack of old magazines, some old flowerpots, and a red wagon — except it was so rusty that in some places there was no paint on it at all. Monty admired the wagon. It might come in useful, he thought. Everything piled up the way it was made it appear as if his neighbor Mrs. Carlton might be waiting for the trash collectors. Monty decided to find out for sure.
    He rang the doorbell.
    “Why, hello, Monty,” exclaimed Mrs. Carlton. “I’m afraid I won’t be your neighbor much longer. But I will certainly miss your infectious smile.”
    Infectious! Monty felt his face turning red. Did Mrs. Carlton think she could catch his asthma and get sick too? Asthma was not that kind of sickness. It was a little like the birthmark his classmate Ethan had on his eyelid. It was something he was born with.
    “You don’t have to move away. I’m not infectious. You won’t get sick from me,” Monty insisted.

     
    For a moment, Mrs. Carlton looked puzzled. Then she realized why Monty was concerned. “Of course I won’t get sick from you,” said his neighbor, giving Monty a hug. “When I said your smile was infectious, I meant that the smile is catching. When I see you smiling, it makes me want to do the same thing.”
    Monty smiled at his neighbor and she smiled back at him.
    “Why are you moving away?” he asked.
    “I’ve decided this place is too big for me. And I want to move closer to my son and his family. So I’m clearing out the house, and then I’m putting it up for sale.”
    “Does that mean you don’t want the wagon and the other stuff that’s outside?” Monty asked.
    “It certainly does. The wagon belonged to my son when he was your age. Now he’s forty years old. That wagon is almost an antique.”
    “Can I have it?” asked Monty.
    “Of course,” his neighbor said. “In fact, come in and look around. Maybe there’s something else here that you want. I haven’t taken