Ellray Jakes the Dragon Slayer Read Online Free PDF Page B

nutrition break. “And Cynthia,” she adds, “I’m sure we’ve all learned something valuable about organizing a closet. Also, thank you, Emma, for telling us the terrible tale of that forty-five-dollar library book about amphibians that you lost. You had us all shivering in our boots. Thank goodness you finally found it. And now, I present Mr. Jakes, who is going to tell us what it’s like being a big brother. EllRay?”
    Someone groans. Probably Stanley, and for no reason.
    “But is there enough time?” I ask, like my narrative is so interesting and exciting that I don’t want to cut it short because of mere nutrition break, or like I don’t want everyone’s stomach growling while I’m trying to read my personal narrative. My
private
personal narrative.
    As if there’s such a thing as privacy around here!
    I would have written about almost stepping on a rattlesnake once in Arizona if I’d known we were going to have to read our narratives aloud!
    I will never live down this wimpy, way-too-personal narrative.
    “There’s time,” Ms. Sanchez says, nodding. So I plod to the front of the class and stand at the corner of her desk. “Nice and loud, EllRay,” she reminds me. “No mumbling.”
    Mumbling is a big no-no with Ms. Sanchez. “Stand up, speak up, and look people in the eye,” she always tells us.
    “Okay,” I say, and I clear my throat in a Kevinlike way. “Being a Big Brother, by EllRay Jakes,” I begin.
    “Louder, please,” Ms. Sanchez tells me. “Speak to the very back row, EllRay.”
    “Okay,” I say again, and I start reading.

    When I have finished, I tuck my chin down and scurry back to my seat, hoping no one will havethe chance to ask any questions or give me advice about how to be an even better big brother. Some girls in my class have a lot of advice to give, I have noticed.
    But it turns out I don’t have to worry about that—inside the classroom, anyway—because it’s finally, finally time for nutrition break.
    And I have earned my snack today, believe me.

9
EXTREME DODGEBALL
    “We can go outside. It stopped raining,” Jared Matthews announces, sounding proud, like he personally changed the weather for us. He is pawing around in his lunch bag for his snack, which will be a large one. Like I said, Jared is the biggest kid in our class.
    The whole cubicle room smells weird, like a mixture of food, floor cleaner, and wet jackets, but everyone is still hungry.
    “And Jared and me, we’re in charge of the kickballs,” his friend Stanley says, his glasses gleaming. He is wearing
two
plaid shirts today—layers, see?—even though Cynthia once said the shirts he wears makes him look like a walking picnic blanket. But then the girls voted and decided that wasn’t very nice, so Cynthia took it back.
    But I gotta tell you, Stanley Washington hasbeen getting on my nerves lately. Maybe it’s the way he’s always mooching around Jared, acting like the two of them are so much tougher than Corey and Kevin and me.
And
he’s sarcastic.
    “Who says you’re in charge?” my friend Kevin asks, challenging Stanley as the rest of the kids churn around them, pushing to get their snacks and escape outside. “You’re not the boss of the kickballs, Stanley.”
    “He is if I say he is,” Jared says, standing in the middle of the cubicle room like a rock sticking out of the ocean waves. “Anyway, what do you guys care?” he adds, including me in his glare, even though I haven’t said a word. “You’re gonna be too busy talking about how great
little sisters
are to play anything.”
    “Ooh,” Stanley says, laughing. “Cute little Waffle.”
    “Her name’s Alfie,” I say, clenching my fists.
    Waffle! That’s it for me and sarcastic Stanley.
    “Whatever,” Jared says, shrugging as we make our way down the hall. “Sorry, but you guys are just too wimped-out to play with the kickballs today. Especially when we’re playing Extreme Dodgeball, dudes.”
    Okay. Plain dodgeball is