Young Scrooge Read Free

the Christmas play in the auditorium. But I made my way toward Miss Dorrit’s classroom.
    The hall was nearly empty. Most kids had hurried out into the snow to have fun. It had snowed about six inches the night before, and the snow was fresh and soft and perfect for packing tight wet snowballs.
    I love creeping up behind kids and smashing a hard snowball into the back of their head. They never know what hit them. It’s such a riot.
    Some kids brought their ice skates to school. They planned to go directly to Oxford Pond beyond the elementary school playground to skate. Fun.
    I’m a good ice-skater. I love skating really fast and cutting right in front of people, surprising them so they have to come to a sharp stop. Sometimes they lose their balance and fall right on their butt. Ha-ha. They look so funny.
    But no fun for me this afternoon. I knew I was heading into a lecture by Miss Dorrit. As I walked, I lowered my head and stared down at the floor and practiced looking sorry for what I had done. Whatever it was.
    I turned a corner and—wouldn’t you know it—there was Josh Cratchit bending over in front of his open locker, pulling books from the locker floor.
    I knew I should walk right past. But I never can resist when it comes to Joshy. With his skinny runt body and his pale face and thick eyeglasses and that horrible stutter, Josh is the perfect victim.
    Everyone likes to pick on him. I’m not the only one.
    â€œJosh! Hey—Josh!” I went running over to him. “Be careful!” I cried. “Did you hear? There’s an angry pit bull loose in the school.”
    â€œHuh?” He turned and his eyes went wide with fright behind his glasses. “A d-d-dog?”
    â€œI’ll protect you,” I said. I picked him up by his waist and lifted him into his locker. And then I closed the locker door with him inside.
    â€œHey—let m-m-me out, Rick!” he shouted.
    â€œYou’ll be safe now,” I said.
    Josh was still shouting and pounding on his locker door as I turned the corner and strode quickly down the hall. I knew someone would find him sooner or later.
    Sure, I knew that I shouldn’t have done it. But Christmas just puts me in such a bad mood. I can’t help myself.
    Besides, it was pretty funny.
    I forced the smile off my face as I stepped into Miss Dorrit’s room. She stood behind her desk with her arms crossed in front of her. I guessed she’d been waiting for me.
    She was wearing a green sweater that perfectly matched her green eyes. Her blond hair was tied back in a neat ponytail. She had a stern expression on her face. I could see she didn’t call me in to give me the Good Citizenship Award.
    She pointed to a wooden chair right in front of her desk. “Take a seat, Rick. You and I have to talk.” She sat down behind her desk and kept her cold, green-eyed stare on me.
    â€œI have to pick up my brother at the elementary school,” I said.
    She rolled her eyes. “I know. I know. Snowman lessons.”
    â€œNo, really—” I said.
    â€œThis won’t take too long,” she replied. She tapped a pencil on the desktop. “How old is your brother, Rick?”
    â€œCharlie is seven,” I said.
    â€œDoes he look like you?”
    â€œA little,” I said. “He has kind of the same face. But he’s skinnier than me. He’s skinnier than everybody . Mom says he looks like a pencil. Totally thin with red hair on top. You know. Like an eraser. I look more like my dad. Dark hair, dark eyes.”
    â€œAnd how do you treat your brother?” she asked.
    The question surprised me. “Excuse me?”
    â€œHow do you treat your brother?” she repeated. “Are you mean to him? Are you nice to him? Do you stomp really hard on his feet and try to hurt him a lot?”
    â€œNo way,” I said. “He’s my little brother. I’m responsible for him.”
    She set down the