The Magical Ms. Plum Read Online Free PDF Page A

around, its eyes bright with curiosity. Brad carefully lowered his hand by his desk and waggledhis pencil with his fingers. He soon felt the monkey’s paws on his hand, grabbing for the pencil.
    Brad scooped him up and gently slipped the monkey into the pocket of his hooded sweatshirt.
    Glancing down, he saw that the monkey had positioned itself so it could peer out of his pocket. He seemed quite content.
    I’m going to call him Chompers, Brad thought. Since no one else knows about him, maybe I could keep him.
    Could he take the monkey out of the classroom? Ms. Plum said the animals made their own choice. The little monkey had sneaked out of the closet. He must want to be free, Brad decided.
    Brrinng!
    The buzz of the recess bell cut into his thoughts.
    He shrugged on his parka, carefully transferring Chompers to his coat pocket, and joined the line heading out of the classroom. Step one. There was Ms. Plum’s smiling face. Step two. There was the open door. Step three. He was out!
    He slipped his hand into his pocket, and Chompers immediately jumped on it andscrambled up his arm to perch on his shoulder.
    Could anyone else see him? The other kids in Ms. Plum’s classroom had scattered like … like what? Brad couldn’t think of how they’d scattered except like a bunch of kids at recess.
    Brad raced for the back slope of the playground. He’d done it! He had his very own monkey!

    “Look what I got!” shouted Brad, coming over the slope, skidding, and almost falling in the snow.
    Chompers chattered excitedly and grabbed Brad’s ear to hang on.
    This would be like the most amazing thing the fifth-grade boys had ever seen.
    Only they couldn’t see it.
    “What?” said Michael. “A new hat? Big deal.”
    “Run!” shouted Ron, heaving a snowball at Brad and almost hitting Chompers.
    “Hey, watch it!”
    No one ever wanted to challenge Ron. He was the number one pitcher on the baseball team and led Ultimate Frisbee, too.
    Even so, Brad crushed some snow into a ball and heaved it at Ron. Just as the snowball left his hand, Chompers leapt onto it.
    Brad stared, his mouth slack, as his monkey rode the snowball right smack into Ron’s chest. Then Chompers was coming back toward him atop Ron’s snowball—coming straight at Brad’s face. But just before the snowball reached him, the monkey pushed off, sending the snowball harmlessly to Brad’s left and launching himself back onto Brad’s shoulder.
    Chompers was chattering with joy. His eyes wild, his fur blown up like he’d touched a light socket.
    So Brad, dodging snowballs, quickly scooped up another snowball and sent it flying.
    Chompers rode with it. Amazingly, he even rose to his feet like a surfer on a surfboard.
    And suddenly Brad could feel just what the monkey was feeling. He could feel the icy, crusty ball of snow wobbling under his toes. He could feel the wind whipping at his cheeks. He could feel how Chompers leaned this way and that, steering the snowball right into Ron’s face!
    Bull’s-eye!
    Ron clawed off the snow, revenge in his eyes. Brad started backpedaling as fast as he could. Ron rocketed a snowball straight at him.
    But Brad knew that the monkey would push it away and Ron’s best throw would never hit him.
    Now Ron was furious, and he waved away the other boys. This was just between him and Brad.
    Five throws and it was over.
    Throw number one: Brad to Ron. Result: A face full of snow for Ron.
    Throw number two: Ron to Brad. A perfect missile of packed snow that at the last second swerved over Brad’s shoulder.
    Throw number three: Brad to Ron. A high throw that looked like it would miss by a mile but instead veered this way and that (was there a wind up there?) and splatted onto Ron’s astonished face. Result: A lot of fifth-grade boys laughing their heads off.
    Throw number four: Ron to Brad. Another missile. A heat-seeking missile. A Brad-seeking missile. A sizzling fastball that seemed to gradually slow, landing softly about three