Voices at Whisper Bend Read Free

didn’t have bad dreams.”
    â€œHey Charlotte!” Betsy called from her doorway on the other side of Charlotte’s house. Betsy hurried to the sidewalk, pulling on a sweater, her pale brown pigtails bouncing. “Sorry I’m late again. Why are you petting that nasty cat? He probably has fleas. He looks like he’s been in a fight.”
    â€œHe just needs a good brushing,” Charlotte said. She stood and stepped carefully across a wide crack in the sidewalk. “Betsy, did your family listen to the President last night?”
    â€œSure. Everyone here at home’s going to have to pitch in. I’m buying an extra war stamp this week. How about you?”
    Charlotte shrugged. “Buying a measly war stamp doesn’t seem like much. Not with what our brothers are doing.” They turned off Talbott and headed north, toward Braddock Avenue. Once they crossed Braddock, the climb would start, but for now the hill still lay in shadows, waiting to burn their leg muscles.
    â€œWe could lie about our age and get jobs at the mill,” Betsy suggested. She pulled her shoulders back. “We’re both tall.”
    Charlotte laughed. “They’d never believe us.”
    â€œWhat about the Red Cross? They’d let us help.”
    â€œRolling bandages? Little old ladies do that.” Charlotte shook her head. She and Betsy crossed Braddock Avenue, passing by all the stores and businesses, and began the long uphill climb. “I wish we could do something interesting,” she continued. “Like being spies.”
    â€œAre you kidding?” Betsy huffed as she spoke. She wasn’t much of a climber.
    â€œCome on, Bets. We could do it. Nobody would ever suspect a couple of kids. We could sneak places and overhear war secrets.”
    Betsy shoved her shoulder. “You’re nuts, Charlotte Campbell. What war secrets are we going to hear in Braddock, Pennsylvania? Nope, unless your brother can smuggle us onto a Navy ship and slip us into Germany or France, we’re not going to hear anything more interesting than Mrs. Dubner swearing at her cats.”
    Charlotte felt the familiar burn in the back of her calf muscles and picked up speed. The best way to make your legs stop aching was to get to school fast. She kicked at a stone and sent it flying across the street. “Mrs. Dubner does swear a blue streak. I caught Robbie using some of those words on Monday. Now he owes me.”
    Betsy shook her head. “Ma says she’s a disgrace to the neighborhood. If she’d just clean her yard and porch, she wouldn’t have to holler. Those poor cats are always bumping into trash and knocking cans over.”
    â€œShe’s old, Bets. And there’s so much junk, it would take a whole company of soldiers to clean her place.” Something glinted on the sidewalk and Charlotte stooped to pick it up.
    â€œWhat’d you find?”
    â€œNothing. Just a bottle cap.” She drew back her arm, ready to pitch it, then stopped stock-still. “Hold on a minute. Look at this.” She showed the cap to Betsy. “What’s it made of?”
    â€œI don’t know. Steel? Tin, maybe. Why? What are you thinking up, Charlotte?”
    Charlotte smiled. She tossed the bottle cap into the air and caught it. Then she polished its smooth silvery top on her skirt. “That’s it. That’s what we’re going to do for the war.”
    â€œPick up bottle caps? Why? So we can throw them at the wicked Germans? That’s about as dumb as being spies.”
    Charlotte turned and pointed upriver toward North Braddock. Huge billows of black smoke drifted across the morning sky from the giant mill chimneys. “Look, Bets, they’re making more steel every day. People are having scrap metal drives all over the country, so mills like the Edgar Thomson can melt down the old metal and pour new steel for ships and planes.”
    â€œScrap metal.