Catboy Read Online Free PDF Page A

big bowl and the potato peeler from the drawer, and I opened the cupboard under the sink. That’s where we kept the potatoes. I picked up the bag, and it was more than half full. We had plenty of potatoes. That was good.
    Before we had moved to the city, I’d never peeled a potato or worried that we had enough potatoes or carrots or milk or bananas. It was as if they all just magically appeared on our shelves or in our fridge. Now I knew exactly what we had in the apartment and how much it cost and how much it weighed when we carried it home. I also knew when my mother got paid so we could buy more groceries. We always seemed to have everything we needed but not much more. I guess we got by.
    Back home my grandparents had helped out. I knew all we had to do was ask and they’d help us now too, but Mom didn’t want that. I understood.
    I was looking forward to seeing them again. We planned to go back for a week at Christmas, but that seemed like a million years away.
    I plopped the bowl and the bag of potatoes on the coffee table. I could watch tv while I worked.
    I clicked on the Cartoon Network. Spiderman was on. I loved Spiderman. He was one of my favorite super-heroes. When I was a kid, I dreamed I would develop superpowers. So far, the only skill I’d managed to fully develop was the ability to peel potatoes at superhuman speed—faster than a speeding bullet! If ever there was an evil villain depriving people of potatoes, me and my peeler would be ready. I could already see the police commissioner shining a spotlight in the sky—a light shaped like a gigantic spud—to call me.
    I held the peeler above my head as if it was a weapon.
    The city would cheer for me. I’d be Mr. Potato Peeler! Wait, that sounds too much like Mr. Potato Head. How about Spudman? Yes, Spudman, able to overcome mounds of potatoes and—hold on, I wasn’t Spudman. I was Catboy ! Defender of cats, saving them from harm, assisted by my trusty sidekick, Simon the Korean Kid, master of tae kwon do. I’d be armed with both my potato peeler and rocks, ready to hurl them at my opponents with laser precision.
    Of course, those would be our secret identities. During the day, we would be mild-mannered grade-six students. At night—well, early evening or after school—we would assume our secret identities. Actually, it might be better if I kept Simon’s secret identity a secret from him .
    The lobby buzzer squealed, and I jumped. It was probably my sidekick, the Korean Kid, wanting me to either play basketball or fight evil.
    I raced over to the intercom and pushed the button. “Hello?”
    â€œThirty minutes is past. Are you coming down?” Simon asked.
    â€œI’m coming.”
    â€œBring your basketball,” he said.
    â€œFor sure.”
    I guess that meant we were playing basketball. If it was something heroic, he would have asked me to bring the potato peeler. Speaking of which, I had almost forgotten the potatoes. I ran back to the living room, grabbed the bowl, brought it back to the kitchen and filled the bowl with water. I cleaned up the peelings and was ready to go.

Six
    â€œOkay, everybody, let’s put away our math,” Mr. Spence said. “I want you to get out your reading book. It’s time for silent reading.”
    Everybody instantly did what he said. He hardly ever needed to repeat himself. At first I thought it was because everybody was scared of him. I know I was scared of him at first. He was huge , and when he gave us the I-mean-business look, I don’t think anybody, kid or adult, ever messed with him.
    Simon had told me Mr. Spence used to be a professional football player. I could see that, because he looked like he used to play football. But I quickly discovered that kids listened to him just because. He could have been scary, but he wasn’t. He was really nice. Kids did what he asked because he asked them to. Maybe it was the way he