Scrap City by D. S. Thornton

Author:D. S. Thornton [Thornton, D.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Charlie Bowater; Diane Thornton; D.S. Thornton; Capstone Young Readers; Stone Arch Books; grief; environmentalism; the environment; Texas;978-1-4965-0475-3; 978-1-62370-297-7; 978-1-4965-2337-2
Publisher: Capstone
Published: 2015-06-25T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 20

Jerome rode his bike up the drive to his house, his unwieldy cargo strapped to the handlebars. His dad and Uncle Nicky were sitting on the front stoop, beers in hand. It was already starting to get dark, the sky turning from vaguely blue to vaguely gray, and this, combined with the sour looks on their faces, gave Jerome a vague suspicion the sky was a reflection of their moods.

As he got nearer, both men sat up straighter and smiled. This kind of thing happened a lot lately. His dad and Uncle Nicky would be talking, then when Jerome came close, they’d straighten up and act like everything was all right. Trouble was, the more this happened, the more Jerome knew things were getting serious.

He’d planned on sneaking Arkie into the house, but now that his dad was watching, he decided to take the ice chest off the bike right there on the driveway. Better to introduce the thing out in the open than be all hush-hush about it.

The old leather belts he’d used to tie the little Scrapper on had done their job well, all the way from the junkyard. Now, in order to remove them, Jerome had to straddle the bike to keep Arkie from falling off and crashing to the ground.

Uncle Nicky watched Jerome unbuckle the belts. “Whaddya got there, kid?”

“Ice chest,” Jerome replied casually. “Cool, huh?”

Jerome’s dad looked at his brother and back to Jerome. “And you need this for… ?”

“I like it. Sorta, you know, retro.” Jerome grunted as he lifted the ice chest off the bike. “You were the one who said my videogames were a mess. I thought I’d keep them in here.”

Jerome started to pull the ice chest up the steps to the front stoop.

“Take it into the garage, buddy,” his dad told him. “If there’s spiders in that thing, I don’t want ’em in the house.”

It felt weird to hear his dad say his friend might be full of spiders, but it felt even weirder to lug Arkie around like a sack of potatoes.

Turned out to be a good thing his dad made him go in the garage. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have seen Max’s old tyke trailer in the corner. The trailer was a two-wheeled nylon-and-aluminum cart that hitched to the back of a bike. His mom had used it when Max was a toddler. She’d ride all over the neighborhood, pulling Max behind her while Jerome rode alongside on his two-wheeler.

Perfect! Just what they needed! Some of the scouts were over three miles away. Jerome couldn’t see Arkie skittering along all that way himself, out in the open. The whole point of asking Jerome to help was because they needed someone who would fit in. Besides, his little friend didn’t know Jerome’s world any more than Jerome knew his. Someone had to show him the way.

All the way from the junkyard, Jerome could hear Arkie’s whirs. Jeromie had tried to keep him occupied by asking what they needed to

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