Elvis and the Underdogs Read Online Free PDF

about dogs my dad had given me the night before when he tucked me into bed.
    â€œDoes this mean I can get the dog?” I asked when he handed it to me.
    â€œLike your mom said, we’re going to look into it. I did read an article about it online, and it’s pretty amazing what these service dogs can do.” I took that as a really good sign.
    While I sat reading, I also tried to listen to my mom in Principal Kriesky’s office. I actually really like Principal Kriesky. He’s tough, but I would categorize him under the heading of bark-worse-than-bite. I think he has a really difficult job. He is the head honcho of a school that goes from kindergarten all the way to eighth grade. (Though the junior high kids, grades six through eight, were in a different building.) That’s a lot of kids to deal with on a daily basis, and this is his fifteenth year, so he’s got that nothing-surprises-me demeanor. Plus he drives a really cool turquoise 1964 Mustang with a thick black racing stripe down the side. It’s just so unexpected to see him show up in that car, because in every other way he seems like a typical boring adult.
    It wasn’t long before Principal Kriesky walked out of his office with my mom. This time when he looked at me, I could tell he was trying to keep his expression normal because he knew my mom was watching him.
    â€œGood morning, Benjamin,” he said.
    â€œHi, Principal Kriesky.”
    â€œI’m pleased you’re out of the hospital and feeling better.”
    â€œNot as pleased as I am. So, Principal Kriesky, if I had a therapy service dog, would I be allowed to bring him to school?”
    â€œBenji . . .,” my mom said, using her polite but firm voice.
    â€œMom, I’m just asking in case.”
    â€œWell, Benjamin, of course if you had a service dog for medical purposes, it would be allowed in the school, because state law mandates that. Can you spell mandates and use it in a sentence?”
    Did I forget to mention that Principal Kriesky is a spelling-bee nut? He won the state championship when he was a kid but lost in the seventh round of the national competition on the word “tonsorial.” He spelled it T-O-N-S-O-R-E-A-L as opposed to T-O-N-S-O-R-I-A-L. (In case you are wondering, the word means having to do with barbering your hair.) Anyway, he’s obsessed with it now, and every year he pins his hopes on some kid making it further than him. In fifteen years of being principal, he’s only had one kid make it to the national competition, Leroy Fencebetter. Leroy lost in the first round on his very first word, spoliator. Rumor has it that Principal Kriesky cried when it happened.
    â€œMandate. M-A-N-D-A-T-E. Mandate.” I figured it was best to humor him. “I must wear this helmet against my will because of the mandate by my doctor and my mom.”
    I could tell Principal Kriesky wanted to smile, but he looked over at my mom, who wasn’t smiling, and he took his cue from her. Principal Kriesky has known my mom for a long time, so he knows as well as anyone that her bite is actually worse than her bark.
    â€œVery good spelling, Benjamin. Now here’s a hall pass. You should run along to class.”
    When my mom and I stepped out of the front office, I was relieved the hallway was empty. “Okay, bye, Mom.” I half waved, but there was no way she was letting me off that easily. She pulled me back and gave me a big hug.
    â€œIt’s going to be better than you think.”
    â€œI think it’s going to be pretty bad, Mom.”
    â€œI know. But it’s still not going to be as bad as you think it is.”
    â€œWell, here goes nothing. Or maybe I should say here goes everything.”
    I headed down the hallway toward Ms. Blaine’s classroom. I didn’t turn around, because I knew my mom was watching me go, trying not to look too worried, even though she was. If I turned around, she would