Missing Sisters -SA by Gregory Maguire

hot.”

    “I am,” said Miami. “Hot as hell. I love myself.”

    “I’m telling,” said Garth. “Mommy!” he screeched. “Miami sweared!”

    “No, don’t go in there—” Miami raised herself to her knees, tumbling the toddlers off her lap. But Garth had barreled toward the kitchen. He slowed down at the sight of Mrs. Shaw. Then, stupider or braver than Miami, he catapulted himself into Mrs. Shaw’s arms and gave her kisses one two three.

    By the time Mr. Shaw got home from work at last, Miami had worked out what was going on. Some Negro guy had been shot and killed. Martin Luther King, Jr. “He’s not a king, his name is King,” she’d finally snapped at Garth, whose normal placid way had been stirred up by the fuss.

    “But he’s like a king, that’s why it’s on the news,” said Garth. “A black king. Like me.” Mrs. Shaw finished crying and began talking. Miami preferred the crying. This was a mammoth lecture: numbers forty-seven and twenty-five and eighty-eight all rolled up in one.
    Martin Luther King, Jr.: A brave campaigner for the rights of American blacks. A man of God.
    All people are created equal. “I have a dream,” said Mr. Shaw, looking soberly at Garth as if the little twerp had a clue to what was going on. “I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skins but by the content of their characters.”

    Garth looked at his skin color. Miami preferred hers: pale, although Garth could wear deep purples and reds that made her face look washed out.

    Mrs. Shaw was wiping sauerkraut off Rachelle and Mr. Shaw was doing the same for Fanny. “We may have to postpone your party, dear,” said Mrs. Shaw.

    “ What ?”

    “You heard me.”

    “Why?”

    “There’ll be a memorial service for Dr. King.”

    “He’s a doctor too ?” said Garth, mouth open with joy.

    “He isn’t a personal member of our family!” cried Miami. “What’re we gonna do, fly to wherever they just kill like that and act like crazy people? I’d be so embarrassed!”

    “The cathedral will have a service, I’m sure,” said Mr. Shaw, who worked for the Church in some mysterious capacity having to do with banking and budgets. “They’re already lining up something for Saturday evening. Sorry, sweetheart, but your mother’s right. We must go and pay our respects and pray for his soul. He’s a good man, a hero, and he needs our prayers.”

    “If he’s so good, why’s he need our prayers?” Miami was getting loud, and the little girls began to whimper. She was going to dig her heels in over this! “It’s not fair! It’s my birthday party on Saturday! You promised! He isn’t even a Catholic !”

    “Honey, it can’t be helped. We’ll have your birthday party next weekend.”

    “But that’s the beginning of spring break!” And the O’Haras would be going to Pennsylvania over spring break, Miami already knew. “It can’t be then! It has to be Saturday!”

    “This is an emergency, and in an emergency everybody has to pull together and make sacrifices,” said Mrs. Shaw. Her tone was changing. “It will mean something to Garth that we go.”

    “You don’t care, do you, Garth? You can come to my party. Promise!” A last-minute change of tactics. “You’re my favorite little brother. I’ll let you have all the hot water in the bath tonight.”

    “You were going to smush me with a giant rock,” said Garth.

    “I was only joking ,” said Miami, grinning broadly, with painful brightness, as proof.

    “It doesn’t matter what Garth says,” said Mr. Shaw. “Honey, try to be grown up about this. We’re going to go as a family to the memorial service. Dr. King deserves our honoring him that way. It will be important to Garth, later on, to know he was there and we were there with him. That’s what Dr. King was working for. That’s what we’re doing.”

    “We’re not !”

    “Discussion is