Performing Arts
The men took one step toward her.
As Elsie took another step back, her foot caught on a chunk of stone. She felt her ankle twist as she stumbled to catch her balance.
The men stepped forward again. Bigger steps this time.
Elsie could smell smoke and sweat and a stink like rotten potatoes. In a sliver of light between the hoboes, she saw Dog Bob being hauled away by the man. But she felt frozen in place, with a chill creeping down her legs and up into her collar. The Reverend had been right. She shouldn't have come.
The office is a windowless gray cell. The vice-principal across the desk from me says, "A one-week suspension is automatic."
Max put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "C'mon. You're not giving up already, are you?"
"Already?" said Sam. "I've tried everything! It's hopeless."
"You haven't tried everything. Have you talked to the clowns yet? You'd be a natural with them."
"Thanks a lot."
