Never Walk in Shoes That Talk Read Free

please. Hassan, you too. Those shoes are a bit disruptive.”
    I didn’t mind so much. My toes were a little tired of all the attention.
    But by the next morning, they were ready for action again.
    It was the same as yesterday. Coco and Hassan and I were like movie stars.
    Or baseball heroes.
    Or presidents.
    Well, maybe we weren’t quite that cool.
    But we weren’t ordinary kids anymore.
    Especially since nobody else could buy Walkie-Talkies anywhere.
    Our shoes sort of united us.
    First thing in the morning, we said hi to each other on our shoes.
    At lunch, we compared desserts on our shoes.
    During music, we sang “Make New Friends, but Keep the Old” on our shoes.
    And at recess, we played hide-and-seek, Walkie-Talkie style.
    I spent most of recess hiding under the slide.
    Hassan and Coco wandered around the playground trying to find me.
    “Warmer,” I said into my shoe.
    “Colder,” I said.
    Hassan turned one way. Coco went the other.
    “You’re so cold you are growing nose icicles,” I said.
    “Hey, Roscoe,” said a familiar voice.
    I looked up from my hiding place to see Gus.
    “Shh,” I whispered. “I’m hiding.”
    “Sorry,” Gus said.
    “Am I cold or hot?” Hassan asked.
    I peeked out.
    “You’re both at the North Pole, you’re so cold,” I answered.
    Gus sighed. “I’m gonna go swing, I guess. Are you still coming over to my house after school?”
    “Of course,” I said. “Why wouldn’t I?”
    “Just thought I’d check,” Gus said.
    “Roscoe?” my shoe asked. “Am I getting warmer?”
    I looked up. There was Hassan. Coco was right behind him.
    “Found you! You’re it,” Hassan said.
    “I’m going to go hang out with Gus,” Itold Hassan, but just then the bell rang.
    “Recess is over, Roscoe!” Hassan said into his sneaker.
    I watched Gus trudge away slowly, kicking dirt with his Shoes that Refuse to Die.
    “Okay,” I said softly. “Over and out.”

9
Baby Drool, Foot Sweat, and Other Problems
    Mom drove me to Gus’s house that afternoon after school.
    Gus was sitting on the front porch.
    His mom was helping his little brother, Albert, ride a blue plastic trike.
    His dad had Babette in a pouch thingie that hung from his chest.
    He looked like a kangaroo with a beard.
    My mom ran over to make ooh-how-cute noises about the baby.
    I ran over to Gus to make ooh-how-gross noises about the baby.
    When Mom finally drove off, I am pretty sure she was still oohing in the car.
    “So, Roscoe,” said Gus’s dad, “these are the famous Walkie-Talkies I’ve heard so much about.”
    I held up a foot so he could see one.
    As he leaned over, Babette drooled on my sock.
    I tried not to look shocked.
    But I was for sure going to have to throw that sock away when I got home.
    “You push this button here,” I said. “And if someone else has Walkie-Talkies, you can talk to them.”
    “Wow,” said Gus’s dad. “How cool isthat? Do they come in adult sizes?”
    “Gary,” said Gus’s mom, “you’re not really helping.”
    “Oops,” said Gus’s dad. He winked at Gus. “They are awesome, Gus. When your sneakers wear out, we’ll talk about it.”
    “These are Ruff and Tuffs, Dad. They never wear out,” said Gus.
    Gus’s dad was about to answer, but Babette started crying.
    “Gotta change the kid,” said Gus’s dad.
    Just then, Albert tipped over on his trike and skinned his elbow.
    He cried even louder than Babette.
    “Boys, you two will have to come inside while we take care of the little ones,” Gus’s mom said.
    We followed the two screaming kids and Gus’s parents inside.
    The house smelled like baby.
    “Gus!” his dad said. “Could you bring me some baby wipes? They’re in the diaper bag in Babette’s room.”
    “And grab that box of Band-Aids in the bathroom, Gus,” added his mom.
    “Sometimes I hate being a big brother,” Gus muttered.
    “I know it’s hard, sweetheart,” said his mom.
    Gus headed up the stairs. A few minutes later, he came back