Free Silver Rain by Lois Peterson

muttered, “Gedoff,” and pulled back out of her reach. “Bud I’b bedder now.” He sniffed loudly.
    Mrs. Styles eased herself up from her chair with the kind of sigh Nan made when she got out of bed in the morning. “I’ll leave you to it. There’s bread in the bin and jam in the pantry. Ernest, cold or no cold, you be a good host. Find a snack for your friend. I’m off upstairs for forty winks.”
    Elsie could hear thumps and laughter overhead, but she couldn’t tell if it was the Noises or the lodgers. How could you sleep with all that noise?
    â€œNice to see you, lovie,” said Mrs. Styles. She gave the brim of Elsie’s hat a flick. “Come and see us again soon.”
    When the door had closed, Elsie poked her finger in a hole in the red-and-white-checkered tablecloth. “Where were you?” she said.
    â€œWhadda you bean?” asked Scoop.
    â€œWe were supposed to go to the shantytown. I waited and waited. Then I had to go on my own.”
    â€œWithout be?” Scoop hacked a lump of bread from a loaf with a black blistery crust. “Ma wouldn’t let be out of the house. Because ob by cold.” He carved a second piece of bread, then slathered them both with jam — the blackberry jam Elsie had helped make last fall with the berries they’d picked from along the railway tracks, where the shantytown was now.
    â€œI had an adventure,” she told him. “I was in a tight spot for a bit. But it all turned out well.” Elsie knew she was using Nan’s words; she couldn’t think how else to describe what happened. She was still scared in a shaky kind of way. But proud too.
    Scoop dumped the bread and jam on the table and plunked down on a chair. “Go on. Hab the biggest.”
    Elsie took a slab of bread and spread the glistening jam evenly right to the edge with one finger. Not all globbed in the middle the way Scoop had doled it out. She sniffed, inhaling the sweet musty smell of blackberries. If she took the time to smell the food before she ate it, it seemed to make it go further.
    â€œSo. You gonna tell be?” asked Scoop.
    Elsie could just make out his question around his mouthful of bread and jam. She took a little bite of her bread, chewed each bite twenty times, and only then did she swallow it. “Me and Dog Bob went to the shantytown, and there were these hoboes. When I asked them if they knew Father, they just laughed.” She took another bite of bread, chewed slowly and put her slice back on the table. “I don’t know if they’d have told me if they did know him. But I don’t think he was there.” She pulled the crust away from what was left of her slice of bread, leaving just the soft white middle. “One of them stole Dog Bob.” She rolled the bread into a lump.
    â€œGed away!” Scoop’s eyes were big and round. They were red from his cold and very bright.
    â€œHe did! A man had him tied up to a rope. He wouldn’t let go. But I made him.” Elsie sat up straight in her chair and looked steadily at Scoop.
    Scoop ducked his head and asked in a quiet voice, “Did you cry?” As if it would be all right if she had. But he hoped she hadn’t.
    â€œI did not.” When Elsie thumped her hand on the table, the breadboard bounced a little. “I was too mad.” She brought her hand down again and squished a chunk of bread. “I told them they should be ashamed of themselves. All of them. I yelled at them!” Elsie felt a giggle move along her throat, up into her mouth. It escaped in a loud shout of glee. “I told them they should be ashamed of themselves!”
    Scoop laughed too, spluttering flecks of chewed bread onto the table. When his laughter turned to a cough — just like the shacker’s at the shantytown — Elsie jumped up and pounded his back until he stopped.
    He elbowed her aside. “I think you broke my