Stella by Starlight Read Free Page A

over and over, and so did my mother. She even bent down to wipe off the mud with her handkerchief. But he pushed my mom away—she almost fell—and then he reached down and whomped me as hard as he could. I remember his green eyes as he sneered at me. Then he called me stupid and careless and some other stuff I’m not gonna repeat, and he walked away.”
    Tony exhaled hard, angry. “Gosh, Stella. So whadja do?”
    â€œI started crying. Worse than that—Mama cried. And there was nothing that either of us could do except go home. And I never did get any candy.”
    Now she grabbed up some of the pebbles and flung them across the yard. No clatter. But the voices inside were getting louder, so maybe she just didn’t hear it.
    Dusty raised his head and growled softly. “Settle down, settle down, now,” Stella whispered, stroking the dog’s back. “Everything’s gonna be okay, boy.”
    But she wasn’t sure about that at all.

4
Nailing Jelly to a Tree
    The meeting was breaking up just as Stella decided she and Tony were about to surely freeze to death. She opened the front door hesitantly to the smell of tobacco and sweat and strong coffee. The neighbor men, a good twenty of them, were saying good-bye, clapping one another on the back, making their way out. Roosters had begun crowing up and down the road. No adult would be going back to sleep that morning.
    Stella said bye to Tony and grabbed a broom without being told. Sweeping stray ashes from the hearth, beating at the stones, she was so rough that shards of corn husk broke from the broom’s bottom.
    Her mother took the broom from Stella’s hands.“You been up half the night, honeygirl,” she said gently. “Go lie down for an hour before school.”
    Stella started to protest, but a firm push from her mother changed her mind. Her pillow was pancake flat, so she gave it a shake, plumped it up, and laid her head down, suddenly exhausted. Scooching her knees up, she gazed at the newspaper-covered wall next to her bed. Most every plank of pine wood inside the house was covered with old newspapers. Newsy decoration, Mama called it. The pages were glued on with wood paste and randomly selected: a wall might sport an ad for medicine next to an article on the price of eggs. As the pages yellowed or peeled, Mama slapped fresh ones up. Stella could not remember when she wasn’t surrounded by newsprint.
    Tonight she reread a piece about what the paper called a crime wave—three robberies—which was next to a story about a college debate team and their success. It seemed like only seconds had passed when she woke with a start as her mother tickled her nose with a feather.
    â€œThought you weren’t sleepy,” Mama teased. “You been down for almost two hours! Go get washed—it will be time to leave directly.”
    Stella sat up, and her mother pulled her close.
    â€œIt’s gonna be all right,” her mother whispered as she smoothed down Stella’s hair.
    But Stella felt the tension in her mother’s arms, and she knew that in reality, fear hugged them both.
    â€œGolly, the outhouse sure is cold this mornin’!” Jojo cried out as he burst in through the front door.
    â€œWell, don’t bring the cold in here with you, boy,” Mama cried out, releasing Stella. “Shut that door!”
    â€œYes’m,” Jojo said, slamming it behind him as he hurried to the fireplace.
    â€œStella,” Mama said. “Remember to feed the chickens. And see if we got some eggs. Get a move on now.”
    Stella opened her mouth to complain, to ask why Jojo couldn’t help, but a dagger glance from her mother shut her up real quick. She gave the pump handle a few quick jerks, hurriedly splashed water on her face, then headed over to the barn, grabbing the feed sack that hung on the fence as she went. In it was some barley, a little sand for grit, bread