The Rock and the River Read Free Page A

left the shop without another word.
    In the hallway, I leaned against the wall until my heart stopped racing. I tried to breathe away the tightness in my stomach, but it was stuck there, like someone’s fist. I’d forgotten what happens when you go someplace new. How careful you had to be. Why I wasn’t allowed to go into the white neighborhoods without Father or Mama.
    I was still shaking a little as I made my way back to the waiting room. Father leaned forward in his seat when he spotted me. “Sam?” He looked concerned. “You all right?”
    â€œFine.” I took my seat across from him. He watched as I folded down the top edge of the gift shop bag and placed it in my lap. I was sure he could see my hands trembling, that he could read what had happened by looking at my face.But he didn’t say anything more. He sat back, stroking his cheek with his fingertips and watching me with one of his thinking stares.
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    It was well after dark before they released Stick and all of us emerged from the hospital. At the curb, Jerry sat behind the wheel of our waiting car. Ty rushed toward us. Why?
    A flashbulb exploded in my face. I threw up my arms. Questions burst like fireworks around us.
    â€œMr. Childs, who do you believe is responsible for your son’s injury?”
    â€œWill you try to find the men who attacked Steven and Sam?”
    â€œCan you comment on your plans to respond to the incident?”
    â€œSam, Steve, what really happened out there?” One of the reporters leaned in close as he spoke. I could feel his breath on my cheek. My head filled with the sound of his camera snap-snap-snapping . Each flash blazed against my eyelids. Behind my closed eyes, the gift shop man’s blunt fingers pointed, accusing me of being black. The man with the bottle still loomed in my mind, his sneer as sharp as the glass edges that had glinted in the sun.
    Ty stepped between the reporter and me, steering metoward the car. I tumbled into the backseat, right after Stick. Mama climbed in next. She slammed the door and held her handbag over the window to block the photographs. Father stood outside, Ty next to him, long enough to make a statement to the hungry newsmen.
    Jerry glanced back from the driver’s seat, his expression tense. We didn’t used to have security for the demonstrations—Father didn’t like the way it looked, like maybe he was afraid. But lately, there had been letters. Phone calls. Threats, more of them and harsher than the usual. I scrunched deeper into my seat thinking about the calls, especially. How scary it could be to pick up the phone and just hear someone breathing at the other end. Scarier than if they said something mean, because at least then you knew what they were thinking. Last week, Mama told me I wasn’t allowed to answer the phone anymore, even if I was home alone. Especially then. I shivered. Today, I was glad for Ty and Jerry.
    When the media moment ended, Father and Ty piled in and Jerry drove off. Ty checked the rearview mirrors repeatedly, making sure we weren’t being followed. Jerry’s wide shoulders hunched forward to make room for Father, who was sitting between them. We rode in tense silence, unusual for us. Ty was the friendly, chatty sort, even when he was working; not to mention Mama, who could carry ona conversation with the car itself if she felt like it. But she sat quietly, balancing her handbag on her knees. Stick and I were in big-time trouble if not even Mama could think of anything to say.
    None of the newspeople followed us. As we rounded the corner onto our street, I let out a huge breath. Home. Just seeing the house drew some tension out of me, though the windows were dark, the curtains drawn as if no one had been around for a while. In the deep evening shadows the siding paint looked gray instead of cream. Our plan to come home early had backfired completely.
    We said good night to Ty and Jerry in our