Trevor Lee and the Big Uh Oh! Page 7

  “Once upon a time?” I said. But it was really more of a question.

  “No,” said the gray horse. And she shook her head.

  “See, he can’t read,” clucked the chickens.

  “Send him to the barn. Forever!” said the cows.

  “No!” I cried.

  “Then read,” said the gray horse.

  “Read,” said the chickens.

  “READ!” yelled the cows with polka dots. And started chasing me around the field.

  “AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!”

  Something grabbed me by the arm. And began pulling and shaking me.

  “Stop!” I cried. “I can’t. I can’t.”

  “Trevor Lee,” shouted a familiar voice. “Wake up.”

  It was Mamaw. “You’re having one fit of a dream, honey,” she said. And smoothed the hair down on my face.

  I rubbed my eyes. And slowly looked around.

  No field. No polka-dotted cows. No laughing chickens.

  It was only a dream. A nightmare. Just like tonight was going to be.

  Some days you feel like a tater tot under a fat man's boot.

  Chapter 16

  7 o’clock came faster than Superman in a hurry. Everyone’s parents poured into the gym and took their seats. Most were dressed in their Sunday best.

  The Boog gave us our final instructions. She was talking real fast. Like she had to go to the bathroom real bad.

  Then she practiced my part with me one last time.

  The slideshow of our school photos started as we lined up in front of everyone. As soon as mine came up, Daddy closed his eyes. Opened them real big. Then closed them again. Mother put her hand over her mouth. Mamaw just smiled and waved.

  Principal Harris introduced us as we lined up. “Miss Burger’s boys and girls. Our 3rd Grade GREATS!” And then we began.

  We all said the story title like The Boog taught us.

  Almost.

  Then it was my part.

  I took one giant deep breath. Like you do when you have a “let’s hold our breath” contest with Pinky before he makes you laugh and you lose.

  I looked out at the audience. Mother had her eyes closed like she was saying a prayer. Daddy was looking down at the floor. Mamaw was nodding. This was it. These next three sentences would determine whether or not I had to go back to the 2nd Grade.

  Then I looked at each word in the first sentence. Remembered what The Boog told me. And read it. Not too fast. But not too slow, either. I practically had it memorized.

  On the second sentence I stumbled over only one of the longer words. But recovered and made it through the third sentence okay. After that I just stared at the floor. I didn’t want to look up. I didn’t want to see if Mother and Daddy were disappointed.

  Sally May and Sally Fay were next. They read their part pretty good.

  But not as good as Pinky.

  Then Elmer, Bo, Bobby Sue, Brandy, and the rest of the class read their paragraphs.

  Finally we were at the end.

  I turned the page and read in a voice even louder than Pinky’s… “THE END!”

  Then I looked up at the audience. Mother and Daddy were smiling.

  “Well, butter my butt and call me Biscuit,” I yelled. “I did it!”

  Everyone clapped.

  Mother clapped.

  Daddy clapped.

  The Boog clapped.

  The whole audience clapped.

  That means everyone.

  I looked over at Mamaw and she was a clappin’ and a bawlin’ at the same time.

  I walked over to Mother. “Why is Mamaw crying?” I asked.

  “She’s happy,” answered Mother.

  “Happy that it’s over?” I asked. “Me, too.”

  “No,” smiled Mother. “Just happy that you read so well.”

  “Why?”

  “Trevor Lee, honey, when your Mamaw was a little girl she had a big family. She had to take care of all her younger brothers and sisters. So, she never got to go to school.”

  “No school. How lucky!” I said.

  “No, Trevor Lee. Since your Mamaw never went to school, she never learned to read. That’s why she’s so happy you can.”

  Then it all made sense. Mamaw wasn’t always trying to trick me into reading. She needed me to read. She needed me to read for her.

  I walked over to Mamaw and opened my book.

  “You see this here?” I asked. “This here is the letter ‘s’. It makes the ‘sssss’ sound. Like a scary hissy snake.”

  Mamaw stopped crying and said “ssss.”

  “And this here makes the ‘uh’ sound. Like you’re kinda confused and can’t think of what to say.”

  Mamaw said “uh” and looked a little confused.

  Don’t worry, Mamaw,” I said. “I might not be great at it, but I’ll try my best to teach ya to read.”

  “You think I can learn?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “And I’m as sure as the sun rising in the morning.”

  Well, that’s pretty near how that dreaded Family Night ended.

  Okay. I know what you’re thinking.

  I admit it.

  Once in a while you have a good day. Maybe even a great day. But trust me. It won’t become a habit. Especially not if you’re in the 3rd Grade.

  But that’s exactly where I planned on staying.

  This book is dedicated to my Mamaw. Who never learned to read.