Fractions = Trouble! Read Online Free PDF Page B

the room.
    â€œWilson, did you see that I put your wonderful drawings—” She broke off
mid-sentence, staring at the bare bulletin board. “Why did you take them down?”
    â€œI made them with the math tutor. Everyone will know I made them with Mrs. Tucker.”
    â€œOh, Wilson.” Mrs. Porter put an arm around his shoulders. “I wasn’t going to tell the class that you made your pictures with Mrs. Tucker. I was just going to say, ‘Look at what a creative way Wilson found to show us how to do fractions.’ Besides, there are lots of kids who get extra help.”
    Wilson knew how Kipper felt when Kipper pushed out his lower lip and it started to tremble. “No one else goes to a math tutor.”
    â€œHow do you know that?”
    Wilson just did.
    The bell rang. Hordes of third graders came racing into the room.

    â€œI’m sorry,” Mrs. Porter said softly. “I should have asked first.”
    Wilson turned away so she wouldn’t see the Kipperish tears in his eyes.
    A moment later, Josh gave him a hard, but friendly, whack on the back. “I wrote a poem last night about pickles. To put up on my science fair board. Do you want to hear it?”
    Forcing a smile, Wilson nodded.
    From a crumpled piece of paper, Josh read,

    â€œPickles boil and pickles burn.
But about pickles I have learned,
Unlike a frog, unlike a toad,
A pickle simply won’t explode.”

    This time Wilson’s grin was real. “That’s good!” He couldn’t resist asking, “Do frogs
and toads explode?” He also saw, looking over at Josh’s paper, that Josh was still spelling pickle as pickel . And he spelled toad as tode .
    Josh shrugged. “I needed something to make it rhyme.”
    During math time, Mrs. Porter gave the class a practice test and let them grade it themselves. Wilson got eight out of ten problems right:, which he now knew was the same as 4/5 . That was definitely passing. If only he could do that well on the real test on Friday, then he could stop going to see Mrs. Tucker, and he could spend his Wednesday afternoons and Saturday mornings the way everyone else in the universe did.
    The memory of his hamster drawings on the bulletin board made his cheeks burn, but at least he had gotten to the room in
time to rip them down before anyone else had seen them. He noticed that Mrs. Porter had quickly covered the empty bulletin board with some perfect spelling tests. It was little comfort that one of them was his.
    Out on the playground at lunch, Wilson saw Kipper playing tag with his little kindergarten friends. Kipper came running up to say hello as Wilson and Josh were hanging from the monkey bars in their favorite upside-down way.
    Josh swung himself right-side up to return Kipper’s greeting. “What’s up, Kipper, my man?”
    â€œIt’s going to be windy tonight!” Kipper informed him.
    Josh looked puzzled. “Are you afraid your house will blow down?”
    â€œFor the science fair! I have to see which tent does best in the wind. Remember?”

    â€œSure,” Josh said, but Wilson didn’t think he did.
    â€œThis time Peck-Peck is going to sleep in the little, low tent. Snappy is still going to sleep in the big, tall one.” Kipper held both Peck-Peck and Snappy up for Josh to see and made them do a little dance. “I don’t have anyone sleeping in the middle-sized tent.”
    â€œHow about a pickle?” Josh suggested. “I have a pickle that likes adventures.”
    â€œYou can’t put a pickle in a tent!” Kipper giggled.
    â€œWhy not? You haven’t met my pickle yet.”
    Kipper giggled again. “When can I meet your pickle?”
    â€œI’ll bring him over for a playdate. Yeah, we’ll have a playdate: you and me and Wilson and my pickle.”
    Wilson was getting irritated. He had no
intention of having a playdate with his little brother and Josh’s