Free Remembering Mrs. Rossi (9780763670900) by Heather (ILT) Amy; Maione Hest

in the middle of dinner. Grownups always forget about dessert when your teacher’s on the phone. Plus I wish you didn’t say, LEO IS NEGLECTING HIS HOMEWORK.
    Because now I’m not allowed to watch TV for the rest of my life. Plus now I have to do my homework in public every day, at the kitchen table while my mom is making dinner. Poor old Leo — work, work, work. When my dad comes home from his job at the shoe store, the whole family sits around looking at my homework. Even my little brother Herbie looks, and he can’t even read! I like when my mom says, I knew you could do it, Leo. I like when my dad says, Go get ’em, Leo. He always says that if you do a good job.
    Your student forever,
    Leo

    It is raining cats and dogs! We can’t go out for recess! Everyone’s mad! Then Mr. Rossi knocks on the door and Mrs. Rossi jumps in the air because here is her husband !! He has cupcakes !! Hey, it’s Mrs. Rossi’s birthday !! We all sing happy birthday but she won’t tell how old she is!! I love cupcakes so much!

    Mrs. Rossi was a spy. She had to be. She’s the only one who figured out where I was going all those times after school. Not even Joe figured it out, and he’s my best friend. Not even my mom figured it out, and she’s my mom. I’m supposed to go straight home after school. I always used to. Then I found the firehouse. It’s over on 113th Street and I started going there. I liked having a secret. I liked sitting on the curb across the street from the firehouse. I liked waiting for something to happen. Mostly nothing happened but that’s okay. I liked watching the guys over there when the big red door was open. They looked nice. I didn’t say anything or wave, no baby stuff. Sometimes I drew stuff. I’m not a great artist or anything but I like to draw. I guess if I keep practicing, I’ll get really good.
    Then one day Mrs. Rossi the spy showed up . . . and there goes my secret, right out the window. Mrs. Rossi sat on the curb. We watched the firehouse and you could tell she liked my firehouse. I said, My father used to be a fire-fighter, but I think the spy already knew. I said, He died when I was a baby . I think she knew that, too. Then we crossed the street. Mrs. Rossi knocked on the big red door. We went in. Seven is my lucky number and seven firefighters shook my hand, and also Mrs. Rossi’s! It was the greatest day of my life! Now when I sit on my curb, my friends at the firehouse wave to me. Sometimes they come over to see what I’m drawing.

    Mrs. Rossi always wore plain blue shoes. One day she wore ooh-la-laaaaa fancy red shoes to school! And I saw them first, because I was the first one in school!
    Me: I like your red shoes, Mrs. Rossi.
    Mrs. Rossi: Thank you, Tess.
    Me: Where are your regular shoes, the old blue ones?
    Mrs. Rossi: Under my bed, I suppose.
    Me: My mother has purple shoes. But only for special occasions. I love special occasions, Mrs. Rossi.
    Mrs. Rossi: Well, then, I’ll tell you a little secret. Today is a special occasion. My anniversary!
    Me: Is there a party? I love parties, Mrs. Rossi.
    Mrs. Rossi: Actually, my husband is taking me to lunch today!
    Me: To a restaurant????
    Mrs. Rossi: To my favorite restaurant. I think I’ll have spaghetti.
    Me: Could I come, too, Mrs. Rossi? Pleeeease! The food in this school is really bad.
    This is a picture of Mrs. Rossi and the red shoes. She looks pretty. Her sweater is red, too.

    Give me an M
    M!
    Give me an R
    R!
    Give me an S
    S!
    Give me an R
    R!
    Give me an O
    O!
    Give me an SSI
    SSI!
    Who d’ya love?
    Mrs. Rossi!!
    Who?
    Mrs. Rossi!!
    One more time!
    Yaaaaay, Mrs. Rossi!!

    My name is Frankie and I feel sorry for Mrs. Rossi. Only old people are supposed to die. And bad guys on TV. A lot of teachers get a headache or a cold. Mr. Lubner the gym teacher in my old school broke his leg that time. I signed Frankie on his cast. I never heard about a teacher who died. Not even on TV. And that’s why I feel sorry for Mrs.