Read Gooney Bird Greene for Free Online

!"
    "Oh," Keiko said in a small voice, "I hate when the wolf comes. Every time the wolf appears, I—"
    "Shhhh," the children said.
    Gooney Bird continued.
     
     
    So Gooney Bird climbed up the steps and got on the bus.
    Every seat was filled. There were men and women in the bus, all of them dressed in black. All the men were wearing black turtleneck shirts. The women were all wearing long black skirts.
    They definitely looked like an orchestra. But they looked very distressed.
    "Where are you supposed to go?" Gooney Bird asked the bus driver.
    "To the Town Hall Auditorium," he said. "We are supposed to play a concert there this morning." He looked at his watch. "It begins in twenty minutes," he said in a worried voice.
    "I will get you there," Gooney Bird said.
    The bus driver called to the orchestra players. "This wonderful girl is going to direct us!" he said.
    "Yay!" the orchestra players all called.
    Luckily, even though she had lived in Watertower for only a week, Gooney Bird knew exactly where the Town Hall Auditorium was, because her father had pointed it out when they drove around the town.
    "There is the hospital," her father had said. "Go there if you happen to fall from a ladder and break your arm.
    "There is the police station," he had said. "Go there if you happen to see a bank robber on the loose.
    "And there is the Town Hall Auditorium," her father had said. "Go there if you want to see a ballet or a concert."
    "Start the bus," Gooney Bird told the driver, "and turn right at the very next corner." It was a good thing that she was wearing her long black gloves. When she pointed, everyone could see her long black pointing finger.
    There was no place for Gooney Bird to sit down. And we all know that it is dangerous to stand while a bus is going. But she had no choice. She stood beside the driver and held on to the side of his seat. He promised to drive very, very carefully.
    "Next, turn left," Gooney Bird said, and pointed.
    "And there we are!" she told him. "See that large brick building? That is the Town Hall Auditorium!"
    "Yay!" the orchestra players called again. The women began to comb their hair.
    "Thank you for directing us!" they all said to Gooney Bird as they got out of the bus. The driver had opened the luggage compartment and was lifting out cellos.
    "You will be late to school," one man said as he picked up a large black case. "Trombone," he explained.
    "Yes, I will," Gooney Bird said. "I will be tardy."
    "Is there some way that we can thank you for leading our orchestra?" he asked.
    Gooney Bird thought for a moment. Finally she thought of a way, and she whispered it to the trombone player.
    He nodded. "Yes," he said. "We will do that."
    One by one the musicians thanked Gooney Bird. She said goodbye and hurried down the street to Watertower Elementary School.
    She arrived at school just as the class was about to read "Cities" in their social studies books.
    The End
     
     
    "Questions, anyone?" Gooney Bird asked.
    "Was there a drum player?" Malcolm asked.
    "Yes," Gooney Bird said. "Every single part of a symphony orchestra was there. Even a harp."
    "Oh," Malcolm said, sighing. "I wish I could have seen the drum player. I love drums."
    "You will," Gooney Bird said.
    "Was there a flute player?" Chelsea asked.
    "Two," Gooney Bird said.
    "I wish I could hear the flute players," Chelsea said.
    "You will," Gooney Bird said.
    "I have a question, Gooney Bird," Mrs. Pidgeon said. "What was it that you whispered to the trombone player?"
    "Secret," Gooney Bird said. "But you'll find out at twelve o'clock sharp."
    "That's lunchtime," Mrs. Pidgeon pointed out.
    "Precisely," Gooney Bird said. "Now, shall we turn to our social studies?"
    All morning the children, and Mrs. Pidgeon, too, glanced again and again at the big clock on the wall. They did social studies and arithmetic and had a snack in the middle of the morning. Then they did reading and art. Finally, just as the clock hands moved to twelve o'clock and