Fire from the Rock Read Free Page A

things had changed. Reggie had muscles, and a faint shadow of mustache, and eyes the color of maple syrup—things Sylvia had never noticed before.
    â€œAnita is the only thing in Little Rock that makes me feel special. She makes me feel like a man,” Gary said quietly.
    â€œI really don’t think you need one of those silly skirts, Sylvia,” Mrs. Patterson told her, ignoring Gary’s reference to both Anita and Reggie. “Somehow the girls who wear them just seem a little, well, fast. You know what I mean? You know what the Bible says about loose women.”
    â€œNo, Mama, I don’t. Rachel Zucker has three poodle skirts, and you don’t think she’s fast or loose, do you?”
    â€œRachel doesn’t live under my roof, and I don’t sew her clothes,” Mrs. Patterson replied sharply.
    Sylvia started to retort, but she thought better of it when she caught Gary’s eye.
    â€œDon’t bring white folks into our kitchen,” he hissed at her, low enough to be out of their parents’ earshot.
    Sylvia gave him a dirty look, but said nothing.
    Mrs. Patterson had made fresh blueberry pancakes and the family was finishing up its long, delicious Christmas holiday of the last two weeks—filled with homemade cookies, cakes, pies, and tons of Mama-made fried chicken. Sylvia’s father slurped his coffee, nibbled on the crisp, pan-fried bacon, and read a copy of the morning paper, mildly unaware of normal breakfast chatter.
    Gary was unusually talkative and cheerful. No one had asked where he had gone when he stormed out of the house on Tuesday, and he had volunteered no information.
    â€œMy leg feels better,” Donna Jean said as she licked the blueberry syrup off her fingers. “Will I be going to school? I don’t want to get behind in my classes.”
    â€œHow far behind can a kid get in third grade?” Gary teased. “What do you learn when you’re eight, DJ—how to count on your fingers?”
    Donna Jean grinned at him and tossed a spoon at his head. He caught it in midair and then balanced it on his nose, making her laugh.
    â€œWe’ll see, little one,” her mother replied. “I want to make sure none of your wounds gets infected, and I suppose we just have to hope that awful dog has no disease.” Just talking about Donna Jean’s injuries made her get up and start sweeping the floor, Sylvia noticed.
    â€œHey, Gary,” Sylvia asked her brother, “would you take me to one of Mann’s basketball games this season?’ Horace Mann had a terrific team, and Reggie’s older brother, Greg, was their top scorer. And somehow, now that she was older, the thought of watching sweaty boys run across a shiny gym floor made Sylvia’s heart beat a little faster. She covered her smile, knowing her mother would never understand.
    â€œI wanna go, too!” Donna Jean piped up.
    â€œYou’ll have time enough for such,” her mother said. “Finish your breakfast.” Donna Jean poked out her lip.
    â€œMaybe I’ll let you come,” Gary told Sylvia. “If I don’t have a date. You going for the basketball, or the boys?” He grinned at her.
    â€œYour mind stays in the gutter, boy. I’m thinking of trying out for cheerleader when I get to Mann, and I want to watch their moves. So there!” Sylvia grabbed the last piece of bacon off his plate and gobbled it.
    â€œI’m gonna get you for that, Sylvie. Just wait until you get to school and open your lunchbox. Instead of a big fat slice of Mama’s apple pie, all you’ll find is a big old rock. I’ll be eating your pie while I watch the cheerleaders practice!” He laughed good-naturedly. It gave the kitchen a soft, relaxed feeling.
    â€œHigh school must be so much fun,” Sylvia said wistfully as she imagined hanging with kids at the corner drugstore, listening to records, and going to dances and games and