Read Online Tom Finder by Martine Leavitt - Free Book Online

Janice said. She stood up. “Well, I only talk to poets.”
    â€œWhy?”
    Janice looked at him and turned away without answering. Tom saw the Canadian girl smile. She was going to leave with her. “Hey,” he said quickly. “Do you know a kid named Daniel Wolflegs?”
    T-shirt girl shook her head, but Janice nodded.
    â€œI need to talk to him. Can you tell me where to find him?”
    â€œSorry,” Janice mouthed, with no sound. “I only talk to poets.”
    The T-shirt girl shrugged and smiled at him and began to turn away.
    â€œWhat if I was a Finder?”
    They stopped.
    â€œWhat’s a finder?” the poet asked the T-shirt girl.
    â€œWhat’s a finder?” the T-shirt girl asked Tom.
    How could he think when the words on her T-shirt expanded and shrunk like that when she spoke?
    â€œUh . . . it might be a kind of poet,” he finally thought to say. Anything to make that girl stay.
    Poet girl looked at him skeptically. “Okay, read me one of your poems,” she said without sound.
    â€œShe says, read her one of your poems,” T-shirt girl said.
    Tom squirmed uncomfortably. He opened his book so that only he could see the words. He could make it up on the spot, but what if she really was a poet and she could tell? He decided to read her something he had written in his book.
    It might have something to do with drums.
    I remember drums.
    The other music is gone.
    I remember fighting.
    And gravity. That gravity always wins.
    Without it we would all fly off into space, and the earth would wander, and the whole universe would close up like a book. With it, we can’t fly, and we always lose. I remember that, too.
    When he was done, T-shirt girl looked questioningly at Janice.
    Janice shrugged. “Good try,” she said out loud. T-shirt girl smiled, a big smile, the most perfectly beautiful Canadian smile Tom had ever seen. It was obvious to him now that the way to get to know this girl was to be nice to her poet friend. Luckily for him, nice came easy.
    â€œRead me one of your poems,” he said to the poet girl.
    Poet girl looked uncomfortably at Tom, and then at the T-shirt girl. T-shirt girl frowned and put her arm around poet girl. “You can’t read her poetry.”
    â€œWhy?” Tom asked.
    â€œBecause,” she answered. “Because it’s all space. People never stop to think that it’s the spaces inside the letters that make the letters. Letters are just spaces on a string. Everyone thinks the lines are so great, nobody thinks about the space. Janice celebrates space.”
    Janice the poet girl smiled at T-shirt girl. “Yes,” she said. “That’s it.”
    Tom thought there must be a lot of space inside Janice’s head, but he only nodded.
    Janice smiled at Tom. She hadn’t brushed her teeth in a while. “Hey,” she said. “I liked the way you answered: with space. You didn’t say anything.”
    â€œWhat’s your name?” Tom asked T-shirt girl.
    â€œPam. Yours?”
    â€œTom. So you must write poetry, too, since Janice talks to you.”
    â€œNope. No poetry in me. I tell futures,” Pam said.
    â€œThat are sheer poetry,” Janice said.
    â€œSo how come you’re here?” Tom asked, nodding at the walls of the shelter.
    Pam shrugged. “Just for a while, until I get a job. I’m going to be a window dresser. I’ve applied at a few places. They say come back when I’m done high school. Like anything I’d learn in high school has anything to do with being a window dresser.”
    â€œI’m looking for my daughter,” Janice said. Tears spurted from her eyes, completely missing the tops of her cheeks and splashing halfway down. She blinked in surprise, as if someone had thrown water into her face.
    Pam put her arm around the other girl. “C’mon, Janice. Let’s get some sleep.”
    â€œListen,”