I and Sproggy Read Online Free Page B

said.
    â€œI’ll be eleven next month,” she said. “I understand you’ll be eleven in December.”
    â€œWho told you?”
    â€œDaddy.”
    â€œMy father?”
    â€œYes. He said I might call him that. I hope you don’t mind?” she asked, and when he didn’t respond she smiled at him. The elevator came to a stop in the lobby. The door slid open. Adam started out. Unfortunately, Sproggy must’ve believed in ladies’ being first because she walked out too. They collided in the doorway. And Adam tripped on Rosalie’s leash and fell in a heap.
    â€œOh, I say, that’s my fault,” Sproggy said and helped him up. “I’m frightfully clumsy, I’m afraid.” Her cheeks were red with embarrassment.
    â€œHey,” Kenny said, watching, “I was just coming up to see you.”
    â€œWell, I’m not there,” Adam said crossly. He felt humiliated that Kenny had caught her picking him off the floor as if he’d been a piece of string. Rosalie’s wheezing increased.
    Adam charged toward the street; the others followed. “Who are you?” he heard Kenny ask Sproggy.
    â€œI’m Sproggy,” she said. “And you?”
    â€œI’m a friend of Adam’s. Kenny’s the name.”
    â€œI’m very glad to meet you, Kenny. I say, does he always walk this fast?”
    â€œOnly when someone’s chasing him. Hey, Adam,” Kenny called, “where’s the fire?”
    They waited at the corner for the light to change.
    â€œThat’s Sproggy,” Adam said to Kenny. “From England. My father’s new wife’s kid.”
    â€œNo kidding. You ever been to Westminster Abbey?” Kenny asked her.
    â€œHeaps of times,” Sproggy said.
    â€œThat’s where I wanted to go. To walk on all those famous people buried there. Kings and queens and poets. If my father could’ve scratched up the bread, I and Adam would’ve gone there to visit his father.” Kenny was a pessimist. He wore a doleful look as comfortably as if it were a suit of old and well-loved clothes. “If one of my sisters was planning to go to Westminster Abbey,” he said, “she’d get there. Not me. I got gypped. I usually do.”
    â€œBread?” Sproggy looked puzzled.
    â€œHe means money,” Adam said.
    They walked toward the park. “Steve’s calling a meeting of the club tomorrow, second bench from the river,” Kenny said, out of the side of his mouth. “If it doesn’t rain or a tornado doesn’t show up or anything. Pass it on.”
    â€œWho do I pass it on to?” Adam asked. “It’s just you and me and him in the club.”
    â€œI know,” Kenny said. “I like to say, ‘Pass it on.’”
    Sproggy looked from Adam to Kenny. “You boys sound a bit bonkers to me,” she said.
    â€œListen,” Kenny said, “I haven’t got much time. My mother’s on the warpath. She says if we’re not all home in time for Sunday dinner, it’s the last one she’s cooking. I’ve got to split. Keep the faith.” He extended his fist in a farewell salute and took off.
    â€œI say, he’s jolly nice even if a bit strange,” Sproggy said. “Is he your best friend?”
    â€œI and Kenny have been friends all our lives,” Adam said, exaggerating some. They had met in kindergarten when Kenny had pulled out Adam’s chair from under him. Adam had punched Kenny in the nose, and it started to bleed. That had made them best friends and blood brothers.
    â€œMy best friend’s name is Wendy,” Sproggy said. “I miss her frightfully. We write to each other once a week, but it doesn’t take the place of being able to see her and have a good natter.”
    Adam took the park steps two at a time. Rosie kept up, and Sproggy, even with her backpack, was just behind.
    â€œYou don’t