Quinny & Hopper Read Online Free PDF

really pay attention!”
    I hand Quinny the scarves. I teach her how to juggle. I teach her and teach her. But she doesn’t exactly learn. She ties one of the juggling scarves around her head like a pirate, and the other one around her body like a genie.
    “Quinny, pay attention.”
    “I’m starving,” she says. “Let’s get a snack!”
    We go downstairs to the kitchen, and I fix us some cheese and crackers. Quinny points to a photo album lying open on the counter and cries, “Hey! Look, there she is! Freya the chicken!”
    She’s looking at an old photo from my mom’s birthday party last year. I forgot that Freya came too. “Who’s that old man with her?” Quinny asks.

    “T hat’s Mr. McSoren. He used to live next door to us.”
    “He did? Yo u mean, in my house?”
    “No, in his house. Yo u weren’t there yet.”
    “ We ll, I can’t believe how happy they look together. That chicken is practically glowing!”
    I can tell Quinny wants to hear more about the chicken and Mr. McSoren, but it’s a long story, and, to be honest, I’d rather get back to juggling. We ’ve still got a lot of work to do.
    “Here, let’s eat.” I slide a plate over to Quinny.
    After some cheese and crackers and a lot more practice, Quinny finally learns how to juggle scarves. Sort of. “Hopper, look! I’m juggling! I’m really juggling!”
    Her technique is sloppy, but you’ve got to start somewhere.
    “T hanks for teaching me how to juggle! Now I’ll teach you something.”
    “Like what?”
    “Did you know that shampoo has the word poo in it?”
    I stare at Quinny. Everybody knows that.
    “What about…do you know how to whistle for a taxi?”
    I shake my head. Quinny pulls me downstairs and outside, right in front of my house. She sticks her hand into her mouth, like she is biting down on two fingers. She whistles so loud it shocks me into standing up straight. When I try it, all I get is soggy fingers.
    Quinny whistles and whistles. The street is empty, as usual.
    “Oh well.” She shrugs. “It worked in the city.”
    But then a car finally turns the corner. Only it’s not a taxi. It’s something worse.
    Much, much worse.
    “Run!” I grab Quinny’s hand and pull her away from the street.

Thirteen

    That Hopper is much stronger than he looks! He pulls and pulls me into his backyard, away from the minivan that’s turning into his driveway. I look back to see those bully twin brothers of his burst out of the van and run in our direction.
    I think they saw us!
    Then Hopper lifts a wood flap under his back porch and pulls me through the tiny opening. It’s dark in here, but we can see out to the yard through tiny square holes in the wood. It feels safe and cozy to sit in the good-smelly, soft-wormy dirt underneath Hopper’s back porch.
    “T his is fun!”
    “Shhh,” Hopper shushes me.
    We watch the bully twins kick a soccer ball around the backyard. I can’t tell which bullyhead is Trevor and which is Ty.
    “T hey’re home early,” whispers Hopper. “Soccer practice usually goes till noon.”
    “Hopper, am I a secret?”
    “Shhh,” he shushes me again, which I guess answers my question.
    Trevor (or Ty?) keeps kicking that soccer ball around, while Ty (or Trevor?) pulls a giant soccer net out from behind the garage. Then they start kicking the ball into that net. There’s no way Hopper and I can get out of here without them seeing us. Hopper seems too scared to try, even though I’ve got some tae kwon do moves that could for sure flatten those bully twins.
    “Why are they so mean?” I ask him.
    “I said shhh.”
    “T hey’re bullies.”
    “T hey’re my brothers.”
    “T hey hurt you.”
    “T hey don’t realize it. I know how to stay out of their way.”
    “Big brothers are supposed to be nice and protect their little brothers,” I inform him.
    “Is that how it works in your family?”
    Hopper has a good point. At least I’ve never swung Piper around by her ankles.
    Trevor and Ty