“There was an old chair with a cane bottom that had a hole in it, two old suitcases, a huge stack of old magazines, some old flowerpots, and a red wagon — except it was so rusty that in some places there was no paint on it at all. Monty admired the wagon. It might come in useful, he thought. Everything piled up the way it was made it appear as if his neighbor Mrs. Carlton might be waiting for the trash collectors. Monty decided to find out for sure. He rang the doorbell. “Why, hello, Monty,” exc...laimed Mrs. Carlton. “I’m afraid I won’t be your neighbor much longer. But I will certainly miss your infectious smile.” Infectious! Monty felt his face turning red. Did Mrs. Carlton think she could catch his asthma and get sick too? Asthma was not that kind of sickness. It was a little like the birthmark his classmate Ethan had on his eyelid. It was something he was born with. “You don’t have to move away. I’m not infectious. You won’t get sick from me,” Monty insisted. For a moment, Mrs.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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