Free Silver Rain by Lois Peterson Page A

rib,” he said dramatically. Then he laughed again. “I wish I had bin there. You told ’em off. Just like your nan would hab done!”
    He shoved the jam jar away, tipped his chair back and propped his knees against the table. “But you should hab waited for be to get bedder. We’re a team. We could hab gone together.” He took another bite, staring at the bread in his hand as he chewed.
    Elsie grabbed a rag from the sink and swiped at the table. “You’re disgusting. You’ve got bread and jam spit all over the table.”
    â€œDisgusting yourself. Eat that bread or Mother will think I was wasting food. So what habbened? Did you rescue Dog Bob?” Scoop’s mouth was so red with jam, he looked like he’d been attacked by the Noises’ lipstick.
    â€œHe’s home safe and sound under the kitchen table. He won’t come out.”
    â€œYou should hab waited until I could come. I could hab interviewed those fellas. Found out bore about the life of a hobo.”
    â€œI think the Reverend Hampton is right. It feels dangerous there.” said Elsie. She knew how much Scoop hated missing out on an adventure. But she’d had one on her own, and lived to tell the tale, as Nan would say. Now she knew she could take care of herself wherever she went. But adventures were important to Scoop. Until she grew nubs like the Noises, he would be her best friend, and they needed to have adventures together. “How about we track down the story about the dance marathon?” she asked. “And this time we’ll both go.”

C HAPTER S IXTEEN
    â€œI’ m ready when you are, pardner,” said Scoop as he cut himself another slice of bread without asking Elsie if she wanted one.
    â€œWe can’t go today,” Elsie told him. “Your mom won’t let you, with that cold. Anyway, it’s too late. And tomorrow Nan’s going over to Mrs. Tipson’s to change the shelf paper in her pantry. If I go and help, maybe I can earn ten cents.”
    â€œThad’ll ged you into the barathon. How ’bout I budder up the Noises and baybe they’ll gibe be a dibe. Or the boarders, if I polish their shoes.” Scoop’s nose was streaming again. He swiped one arm across his face and sniffed loudly.
    Elsie brushed the crumbs off the table and screwed the lid back on the jam jar. “Let’s go on Sunday. But I have to do my homework first,” she said. “Did you do yours?”
    In Nature class, Miss Beeston had drawn a diagram of a leaf on the blackboard, marking the ribs and veins, the stipules and blades. At home, they were supposed to find a leaf and diagram it the way she’d done on the board. When Scoop said that he would rather draw a dead body as if he could see straight through it, Miss Beeston had told him to follow the instructions to the letter for once.
    â€œI haben’t done by hobework. I bin sick, you know,” he told Elsie again.
    She rolled her eyes. Her leaf was pressed between the pages of Nan’s Bible.
    She pushed her chair back and brushed the crumbs from her pants. If Dog Bob were here, he’d have cleaned up the floor after their snack. “I gotta go now,” she told Scoop. “Do your homework so we can check out that dance marathon. Hear?”
    â€œOkay, pardner.”
    He was still sitting at the table as Elsie opened the door to leave.

    Outside the dance hall stood a billboard with Fifth Day slapped across it. Elsie could hear music coming from inside and a loud voice sounding like someone giving orders. Someone laughing. “Nan gave me a dime. Where’s yours?” she asked Scoop.
    His nose was still red, and he kept sniffing. Even though the sun on the street was warm, he flapped his arms up and down as if he were cold. “Don’t got one.”
    â€œI thought you were going to ask your sisters. Or the lodgers.”
    â€œI was too sick to shine shoes.