Stealing Home Read Free Page A

had?” Miss MacNeill said.
    It was, though Joey wasn’t going to admit it.
Maybe
, he thought,
if this Roberta isn’t too girly-girly, I could teach her how to play baseball.
    “You know, Joey,” Mrs. Webster said, “your mama’s people is white folks. Might be easier for you to get along.”
    That might be true, too,
Joey thought.
Couldn’t be worse, anyway.
He was sick of being picked on by Jerome and the other Negroes. Sick of being called names. Sick of being left out of games. Once, his friend Harry, one of the other mixed-race kids, had said to him, “You’re lucky, Joey. You could pass.” Meaning, pass for white. Joey supposed Harry was right. His skin was a creamy light brown, not much darker than Mama’s. His black hair sprang into thick curls, but not the kinky, all-over mat of a Negro. His nose was a little broader than a white’s, a little flatter; his lips a little fuller. But stand him next to Jerome, and he looked white. Sure he did. Why else would the Negroes call him
whitebread?
If he could fit into a white neighborhood…
    He grunted. “Guess so.”
    Miss MacNeill smiled. “Good. I’ll get back to your aunt right away.” She tapped a pen thoughtfully on her fingers. “Funny … they seemed surprised to hear about you, Joey –”
    “What do you mean, surprised?”
    “Well… they didn’t seem to know about you. But –”
    “Didn’t know about me! Why the heck not?”
    “You watch your mouth,” Mrs. Webster warned.
    “Didn’t know – or just didn’t care?”
    “Joseph Sexton, you mind how you talk about your mama’s people,” Mrs. Webster scolded.
    “Why should I? They never did anything for Mama and me.”
    Miss MacNeill leaned forward. “Joey, I know it seems strange that your relatives didn’t know about you. There seems to have been a lack of communication between your mother and her family, a misunderstanding of some sort. But honestly, your aunt was very excited. She said she couldn’t wait to see you.”
    Joey didn’t answer. Something had been niggling around in the back of his mind, and now he knew what it was.
She
couldn’t wait to see you.
She
was anxious to welcome you.
She
was eager to have you come.
    He looked straight at Miss MacNeill. “What about him?”
    Miss MacNeill flushed. “What do you mean, Joey?”
    “You said my aunt was excited. What about my grandfather?”
    Miss MacNeill shuffled some papers on her desk. “Well… we spoke at length, and he… was willing to have you come.”
    Joey saw right through that. “He doesn’t want me.”
    “Now, Joey, I didn’t say that.”
    “You didn’t have to.” He looked at Miss MacNeill’s flushed face. “What’s going on?”
    Miss MacNeill hesitated. Then she said, “All right, Joey, I’ll give it to you straight. Your grandfather was a little unsure about this. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you –” She put up a hand as Joey started to speak. “He just wasn’t sure if it would work out. He said you could come. And as long as you behave yourself, you can stay.”
    “What!” Joey jumped to his feet. “It’s like a test? If I’m bad, I get kicked out?”
    “I wouldn’t put it that way.”
    “I don’t have to prove anything to anybody! I don’t need him! I can take care of myself.”
    Mrs. Webster grabbed his arm and pulled him down. “Now, you stop that foolishness. You should be grateful. Here’s family that’s willing to take you in –”
    “Well, I don’t want to be took in by them.”
    “You’ve got no choice, mister, and I suggest you button your lip so’s they don’t change their mind.”
    “Let ’em. I don’t care.”
    But even as he said it, he knew Mrs. Webster was right. Mama was dead. His daddy was dead. His daddy’s parents were dead. He couldn’t stay with Mrs. Webster. Even though she’d been kind to him – and he’d never admit it,but she
had
been kind, taking him in, letting him cry and rage those first few weeks, patching up his cuts and