Silver Rain Read Free Page B

and was hurrying her away as he ran to keep up with Uncle Dannell. “Did you interview someone?” she asked Scoop when they’d caught up. “Before we got there?”
    â€œNo one would say a word,” he told her. “Because I’m just a kid, I bet. But when I’m famous? They’ll be lining up to talk to me.” He patted the bib of his overalls, where he’d tucked his notebook. “How about we find out more about these dance marathons your uncle was on about? After school?”
    School! There was a spelling bee today. And Elsie had not practiced one word. “Did you study your list?” she asked Scoop, skipping over a big puddle.
    His hands were in his pocket as he kicked a stone along the street. “Sure I did,” he mumbled.
    Elsie didn’t believe him. Anyway, it wouldn’t make a difference. Scoop, the newspaperman, was the worst speller in class. Probably in the whole school.
    Elsie got top marks for spelling, but Miss Beeston kept her behind after school for sticking her tongue out at Jimmy Tipson when she should have been making a list of rivers of the world.
    Scoop only got two out of twenty on his spelling test. He had to copy each word out thirty times before he was allowed to go. So it was nearly dark by the time they were let out of school, and they both had to go straight home.

C HAPTER F IVE
    T he next afternoon Elsie helped Scoop paint his mother’s summer kitchen. It was his job as man of the house, he’d explained to Elsie. And the Noises were afraid of getting paint on their clothes. He knew Elsie didn’t much care if her clothes were secondhand, too small or covered in paint.
    It was Friday before she and Scoop had the chance to go looking for the dance marathon. They walked halfway across town, asking directions from two newspaper vendors, a policeman, a lady with a little kid hanging on to each arm, and a big man rolling barrels into an alley.
    Scoop was pink in the face and panting, and Elsie’s shoes were rubbing by the time they finally stood on Main Street in front of a rickety building that had once been a garment factory. Big white letters saying Taylor’s Clothing still ran sideways up the brick wall.
    While Scoop checked the back door for a way to sneak in, Elsie studied the billboard propped on the sidewalk. In the picture, a man in a dark suit and a bow tie and a woman in a long slinky evening gown danced together under a big glittering ball of mirrors. They smiled, showing bright teeth, as showers of light fell like silvery rain all around them. The words beneath the picture read:
    DANCE MARATHON
Starts Monday!
Thirty Couples Dancing for Thirty Days!
Admission: 10¢ before 6pm; 25¢ after 6pm.
Winners Take All!
  $1000 Prize!
    â€œDoes that really say one thousand dollars?” asked Elsie when Scoop came back. “That’s a lot of money.”
    He took a quick glance at the billboard. But instead of answering her question, he just said, “It’s locked up tight. I knocked, but no one answered.”
    â€œIt’s ten cents to get in,” she told him.
    â€œHow much have you got?” Scoop stood with his hands in his pockets, his notebook tucked in the crook of one arm. The pencil propped behind his ear looked like it might fall any minute.
    â€œUncle Dannell told me he’d give me a dime for my spelling test. Let’s come back on Monday when it starts. Now we know how to get here.”
    â€œAsk your uncle for two dimes,” said Scoop.
    â€œGet your own. Or ask your mom. Or the Noises.”
    â€œFat chance!”
    Fat chance? Maybe it didn’t really matter if Scoop couldn’t spell. He knew all the best expressions. Surely this was enough to make him the perfect newspaperman.
    â€œMaybe Mother will let me have a dime for you too,” said Elsie. “Mrs. Tipson paid her for cleaning their bathroom. What used to be our bathroom, before we got stuck