Leon and the Spitting Image Read Online Free PDF Page A

sidewinder sent its victim straight to the school nurse. With the introduction of the Rhino, Leon speculated that it was probably safer to be charged by a
real
African rhino than to get in the way of one hurled by Henry Lumpkin.
    For a few minutes Lumpkin forced Leon to jump and duck and twist by faking tosses this way and that. Then he stopped pretending and actually released one of the Rhinos.
    I can catch this, Leon told himself as he tracked the surprisingly slow-moving ball.
    He bent his knees and rounded his outstretched arms into a basket.
    Bamm!
    The incoming missile hit Leon’s chest and ricocheted toward the sidelines in a soft, gentle arc.
    To win the game, all Leon had to do was catch the Rhino before it touched the ground. He took a few quick steps and cradled his arms.
    WHAMM!!!
    Out of nowhere, a
second
ball pegged Leon in the back.
    Lumpkin’s strategy suddenly announced itself. The first, slow-moving toss had been nothing more than a decoy, used to distract Leon from the patented, highvelocity sidewinder.
    The trap worked perfectly. The follow-up ball slammed Leon to the floor. And that meant, of course, he was out.
    Leon felt like a total doofus as he stumbled off the court. That feeling stayed with him for the rest of the day, and it was still with him after dismissal.
    Out on the front steps, Leon’s thoughts only darkened. Lumpkin
and
the Hag. Nine whole months of sewing and sidewinders! An entire school year of needles and noogies!
    Leon felt so cruddy he didn’t even want to catch up with P.W. and Lily-Matisse. He waved good-bye to his friends and dashed straight to the curb, where he hailed a cab.
    Once Leon flopped inside the taxi, he gave the driver the address of the Trimore and pulled out his travel book. A Nepal or a Tanzania might make things better, he told himself.
    He read the hack license. It said NAPOLEON DE L’ANGE. The first name improved Leon’s mood a little. Maybe Napoleon had a brother and sister named Muffin and Doughnut.
    “Excuse me,” he said to the driver, “but could you please tell me where you come from?”
    “Haiti,” the driver replied cheerfully.
    Leon grimaced. Just great! I’ve already got
five
Haitis.
    “You don’t like Haiti?” said the driver, who had caught Leon scowling in the rearview mirror.
    Suddenly Leon felt embarrassed. “Sorry, it’s not that. It’s just I was hoping you came from someplace else.”
    “Where?” the driver asked pleasantly.
    “Well, Suriname would have been nice,” said Leon.
    “Oh?” the driver replied, obviously wanting to know more.
    So as the taxi snaked through the city traffic, Leon described his collection. “I have all of New England—
including
Rhode Island. And Suriname’s all I need to finish off South America.”
    “C’est fantastique!”
Napoleon exclaimed, slappinghis hand delightedly on the steering wheel.
    By the fifth traffic light, Leon was comfortable enough to complain about his first day back at school.
    “How bad was it, from one to ten, with ten being the best?” the driver asked.
    Leon considered the question for quite some time before answering. “I’d give it a two—two and a half, tops.”
    “I’ve had days like that,” the driver said sympathetically. “The day I fled Haiti was a two and a half. I lost everything. My house, my car, my job. I had to say good-bye to my family.”
    “That sounds a lot worse than a two and a half, Mr. de l’Ange.”
    “Perhaps you are right,” the driver said wistfully. “But please call me Napoleon. And your name is …”
    “Leon,” said Leon.
    “A very grand honor to speak with you, Monsieur Leon.”
    The cab pulled up to the Trimore soon after the introductions. Napoleon jumped out to open the passenger door and revealed himself to be an immensely tall fellow wearing a snazzy pinstripe suit.
    “Thanks a lot,” Leon said.
    “You are most welcome, Monsieur Leon,” said Napoleon, tipping an imaginary hat chauffeur-style. “And do not