Free Otis Spofford by Beverly Cleary Page B

better run for her life,” he ordered, trying not to laugh. That ought to make her forget her old reader.
    “Otis Spofford, stop being silly,” said Ellen, and turned a page.
    Otis flipped her book shut and danced down the aisle and up the other side of the row of desks.
    “Big Chief Pink Underwear,” Ellen scoffed, as he passed her desk. Then she and Austine began to giggle.
    Otis held up the scissors threateningly. “Take it back!” he demanded. Maybe Ellen did pull the buttons off his shirt, but she was not going to call him Big Chief Pink Underwear and get away with it.
    Ellen pulled away from the scissors. “I take it back,” she cried.
    She better, thought Otis, as he started to prance away from her desk. He guessed he’d showed her.
    Then Ellen took her right hand out from under her desk and held it up with two fingers crossed. “I fooled you,” she said. “I had kings when I took it back.”
    The class laughed. Otis could see everyone was delighted to have Ellen get the better of him. He felt his face grow hot and he quickly grabbed a handful of Ellen’s hair.
    Ellen halfway stood up in her seat. “Ouch,” she protested. “Otis Spofford, you stop it. You’re pulling my hair.”
    “Do you really take it back?” Otis raised the scissors. What would it feel like to cut off a big hunk of hair?
    Ellen tried to jerk her hair out of his hand. “Ouch!” she said again, as silence fell over the class.
    Otis opened the blades of the scissors. He knew the class waited breathlessly. They thought he wouldn’t dare…or would he?
    He watched Ellen’s horrified stare as the scissors came closer and closer. Much as he had always wanted to cut someone’s hair, he wouldn’t really cut Ellen’s. He would just tease her a little.
    Then, out of the corner of his eye, Otis saw Austine spring from her seat. “You leave Ellen alone,” she shouted. “You’re not going to cut her hair!”
    Otis twisted out of Austine’s grasp. “Ouch!” shrieked Ellen. “You let go of my hair!”
    “Aw, he won’t cut your hair,” Stewy said. “He’d be scared to.”
    Oh, I would, would I, thought Otis. I’ll show him. Without taking time to think, Otis brought the scissor blades together on Ellen’s hair. They cut easily through a few hairs on the edge of the handful he held. It was a wonderful feeling.
    Ellen, frozen with horror, did not move, but she gasped, and her gasp made Otis hesitate.
    “Well, go on,” said Stewy. “I thought you were going to scalp her. What are you waiting for?”

    Stewy needn’t think Otis was going to back out now. He couldn’t. Anyway, now that he had started, he had to know what it felt like to cut that hair. With all the strength he had, he forced the blades together on the thick locks in his hand. Triumphantly he held up a brown handful. “Me scalp ’um,” he announced.
    Then Otis saw Ellen staring at that handful of hair, her eyes round with horror. She felt the side of her head with her hand. “My pigtails!” she whispered, as if she couldn’t believe what had happened.
    Otis stopped being an Indian and stared too. Ellen’s pigtails. Why, she had been waiting months for her hair to grow long enough to braid. What had he been thinking of, anyway? It had all happened so fast.
    Otis looked uneasily around the silent classroom. Why didn’t somebody say something? Why did everyone sit there staring at him?
    Then Stewy said, “Boy, you’ve sure done it now.”
    No matter how guilty he felt, Otis wasn’t going to let Stewy know he was the least bit worried about what he had done. He held a lock of Ellen’s hair under his nose and turned his lip up as far as it would go. Twirling the ends of his mustache he grew more and more uncomfortable. Something was wrong. Nobody laughed. Nobody even smiled.
    Otis turned to Ellen again. He waited for her to tell him to stop, to stamp her foot, or burst into tears. Instead, she stared back at him, her cheeks flaming.
    Suddenly Otis