Mostly Monty by Johanna Hurwitz Page B

one thing he could do without worrying about his breathing.
    Luckily, at that moment, Mrs. Meaney came over to them. “Monty is a wonderful reader. I think he could read almost any book he wants to,” she told the librarian.
    “Really?” asked Mr. Harris. “Good for you, Monty. You’re my kind of guy. Just show me what you want before you check it out.”
    Monty smiled at both his teacher and the librarian. Mrs. Meaney patted him on the shoulder. “Are you interested in anything special?” she asked. “Sharks, dinosaurs, planets, or something like that?”

     
    “I’m interested in everything,” said Monty softly.
    “Great,” said Mrs. Meaney. “That’s wonderful. Just look around, then. And if you need assistance, either Mr. Harris or I will help you.”
    Monty picked out a large book filled with pictures and information about dinosaurs. Next time, he might get a book about New York City. That’s where his mother had lived when she was his age. He thought it would be interesting to learn more about it.

    When the first-graders lined up to check out their books, Mr. Harris nodded his approval of Monty’s choice. But Joey Thomas, who was standing in line behind Monty, shook his head. “You can’t read that book. It’s too big. And it will be too hard.”
    Once again, Monty swallowed hard. He took a deep breath and blinked back the tears that he felt forming in his eyes. Even though Joey lived on his street, the two boys never played together.
    But Ilene Kelly, who was standing in front of Monty, spoke to Joey. “You’re just jealous,” she said to him. She looked at Monty. “I heard Mrs. Meaney say you’re a good reader,” she told him.
    “That’s right,” agreed Cora Rose, who was standing in front of Ilene.
    Monty knew the girls were right. He was a good reader. He was probably the best reader in his class. When the students read aloud, he’d heard the others stumble over words that he thought were very easy. He smiled at Ilene and Cora. It was nice of them to defend him. But he wished that he was good at something else, like running or playing soccer or making friends. He looked down at his library book. He looked forward to reading it at home, but he still wished he was someone else and not Monty.

One day, the first-graders talked about their pets. Mrs. Meaney said they would write stories about them. Only three children in the class didn’t have pets, and of course, Monty was one of them. “You can write about a pet you would like to have,” Mrs. Meaney told the three petless students.
    Monty really wished he had a pet. His first choice would have been a dog. Second choice was a cat. Third was a guinea pig. Fourth was a hamster. His choices grew smaller and smaller, but his mother’s response was louder and louder. “No dog, no cat. No guinea pig. No hamster. All those animals are out,” she told him. “Animal hair will give you an asthma attack. I’m sorry, Monty,” she said. “How about some goldfish? They don’t have hair.” But you can’t cuddle a goldfish. In fact, you’d get wet when you even tried to touch a fish. So Monty turned that offer down.

    Even though his mother had said no to all the animals that he suggested, Monty kept thinking about getting a pet.
    “A baby kitten is very, very small,” said Monty. “It wouldn’t have much hair.”
    “A baby kitten would grow into a cat before long, and it would have lots of hair,” his mother reminded him. And then before Monty could begin begging once again for a guinea pig or a hamster — a pet that would start out small and never grow big — she said, “It doesn’t take much hair to start an asthma attack. Your father and I don’t want you to have trouble breathing.”
    “If hair gives me an asthma attack, how come I’m not allergic to you or Dad?” asked Monty.
    “That’s a good question,” said Monty’s mom. “The next time we see the doctor, we’ll have to ask him. Maybe he knows the