Free Two Under Par by Kevin Henkes Page B

round of miniature golf; he knew exactly how long it took Sally to fix her hair. Surprisingly, Wedge shot his best score ever, considering his anxious feelings. Two under par. He could barely believe it. It was almost too good to be true. “Two under par!” he shouted. “I shot two under par!”
    Wedge threw his putter in the air and dashed up to the house to tell everyone. He felt as if he were flying. As light as air. Because of his score. Because of the box. He turned once and looked back at the castle for a moment, then picked up speed. As he approached the porch, he could hear “Happy Birthday” already playing on the stereo. And he could see the balloons through the window, hanging down from the ceiling. They were like pieces of candy covered in bright cellophane, just waiting to be unwrapped and eaten.

Read on for a preview of The Year of Billy Miller , on sale September 2013

    It was the first day of second grade and Billy Miller was worried. He was worried that he wouldn’t be smart enough for school this year.
    There was a reason he was worried. Two weeks earlier on their drive home from visiting Mount Rushmore and the Black Hills of South Dakota, Billy Miller and his family stopped in Blue Earth, Minnesota, to see the statue of the Jolly Green Giant. Billy instantly recognized the Giant from the labels of canned and frozen vegetables. The statue was spectacular—so tall, and the greenest green Billy had ever seen.

    Billy was wearing his new baseball cap that said BLACK HILLS in glossy silver embroidery. It was a blustery day. The flag on the nearby pole snapped in the wind. Billy raced ahead of his family—up the steps to the lookout platform. As he stood between the Giant’s enormous feet, a sudden gust lifted his cap from his head. His cap sailed away. Without thinking, Billy stepped onto the middle rung of the guardrail, leaned over, and reached as far as he could. He fell to the pavement below.
    The next thing Billy remembered was waking up in a hospital. His parents, whom he called Mama and Papa, were with him, as was his three-year-old sister, Sally, whom everyone called Sal.
    After tests were done, the doctor proclaimed Billy miraculously unharmed, except for a lump on his head. “You fell exactly the right way to protect yourself,” the doctor told him. “You’re a lucky young man.”
    â€œAnd Papa got your hat back!” said Sal.
    When they returned home, Billy proudly showed his lump—and his cap—to his best friend, Ned. He called his grandmother on the phone and told her about the incident, too. Everything seemed all right until a few nights later when Billy overheard his parents talking in the kitchen.
    â€œI’m worried about him,” said Mama.
    â€œHe’s fine,” said Papa. “Everyone said he’s fine. And he seems fine. He is fine.”
    â€œYou’re probably right,” said Mama. “But I worry that down the line something will show up. He’ll start forgetting things.”
    â€œHe already forgets things,” said Papa. “He’s a seven-year-old boy.”
    â€œYou know what I mean,” said Mama. She paused. “Or he’ll be confused at school. Or . . .”
    That’s all Billy heard. He snuck up to his room and closed the door. And that’s when he started to worry.
    Billy didn’t tell anyone that he was worried. Sometimes, he didn’t know how to say what he was thinking. He had words in his head, but they didn’t always make it to his mouth. This happened often, even before the fall.
    â€œHappy first day of school,” said Mama.
    â€œHappy first day of school,” said Papa.
    Billy had noticed long ago that one of his parents often repeated what the other said.

    Without taking the time to sit at the table, Mama rushed about the kitchen, stealing a few bites of Papa’s toast and a gulp of his coffee. She hoisted her big canvas