Voices at Whisper Bend Read Free Page A

Sure, we could collect that—steel and tin and aluminum! Charlotte, you’re a genius.”
    â€œWe’ll get our class to help. Mrs. Alexander will go for it. She’s been making us write all those paragraphs about freedom and the USA.” Charlotte speeded her stride again. Uphill, the early bell rang.
    â€œSlow down,” Betsy said. “You’re always in such a hurry, Charlotte. We’ve got five minutes. This hill’s a killer.”
    â€œCome on, I want to talk to Mrs. Alexander right away. Before school starts.” Charlotte stuck the bottle cap into her skirt pocket. Maybe she was in a rush, but today she had a good reason.
    â€œI’ll hurry, but if I pass out on the sidewalk, you’d better pick me up.” Betsy’s cheeks were red and she was huffing and puffing.
    Charlotte’s lungs burned too, but they only had a block left to walk. “I’ll tell you what we’ll be picking up. Old wheels and bent pots.”
    â€œSounds like work,” Betsy said. “But down by the river it wouldn’t be so bad. You see a lot of old junk there. ’Course, we’d have to be careful. The banks can be steep.”
    Steep and slippery. Charlotte shuddered. “I’ve got a better idea. We’ll start our drive right in old Mrs. Dubner’s back yard. Just you wait, Bets. We’ll be the best scrappers in Braddock.”
    Charlotte placed her right hand over her heart and recited the Pledge of Allegiance. On mornings like this one, when the President had just given a speech, it seemed like everybody stood a little straighter and spoke a little louder. Even her teacher wore a dark blue suit that looked military. Charlotte held her shoulders back the way Jim had taught her to do once he joined up. She wished that the flag hanging over the blackboard was bigger, and less faded.
    Then Mrs. Alexander nodded for them to sit down. She perched on the edge of her desk. “Class, may I have your attention, please? Before we begin this morning’s current events reports, Charlotte Campbell would like to speak to all of you.”
    Heads turned. Charlotte’s stomach did somersaults. She stood and cleared her throat. “Um, I guess you all heard the President last night. I’d like to do something for the war. Not just buy stamps. Betsy and I got an idea. We could start a metal drive, right here in Braddock. What do you think?”
    Her cheeks burned. She slipped into her seat, fiddling with the bottle cap. Around the room she heard whispers. What would they say? Would they do it? Amazingly, most of the class liked her idea.
    Then Sophie Jaworski raised her hand. “But what about lockjaw, Mrs. Alexander? You can get it from rusty metal.”
    Charlotte rolled her eyes at Betsy. They both knew what really worried Sophie—getting dirty, or, heaven help her, breaking a fingernail.
    â€œGood question, Sophie. We’ll have to be very careful.”
    Paul Rossi wanted to collect everything—rags, rubber, and paper, as well as metal—but Mrs. Alexander didn’t agree. “Let’s save something for the seventh and eighth graders to work on. I’ll speak to their teachers. Now, on to current events.”
    Several kids reported on the President’s talk, which seemed odd to Charlotte. Every family in America listened, so why tell what people already knew?
    Sophie Jaworski pulled her news from the fashion pages as usual. “Hemlines Go Up to Save Fabric for Our Soldiers.” It was war news, but barely. That girl!
    When it was Paul Rossi’s turn, he got out a newspaper clipping and read the headline. “‘Woman Found on Church Steps.’ Did you see this?” he asked. “It was in the morning paper. They found a dead woman on the steps of St. Stanislas Catholic Church in Pittsburgh. She was wearing her nightgown and wrapped in a torn blanket. Nobody knows who she is. Nuts, isn’t it?