The Rock and the River by Kekla Magoon Page B

him into the back of one of the police cars. Then they drove off.
    People on the street began going about their businessagain. The radio blasted, covering the silence of disbelief, of resignation. Maxie and I stood still as the car pulled away. The second cop car cruised slowly down the street, lights flashing. We averted our eyes, pretending not to notice.
    â€œHe never did anything to anyone,” Maxie whispered as the car passed us.
    â€œI know.” I wrapped her mittened fingers in mine and she looked up at me. This wasn’t how I’d wanted to hold her hand for the first time.
    â€œWhat are we going to do?”
    I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
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    I hurried home after Maxie went into her building. I made sure to check before I rounded any corners, and turned real wide along the sidewalks. I slipped inside my house and breathed deeply, drawing the warm, peppery aroma of Mama’s chicken casserole into my lungs.
    â€œHow was your day?” Mama asked as I hung up my coat by the door and kicked off my shoes. She was sitting in the brown armchair beside the front windows, stitching buttons onto one of Father’s shirts.
    â€œAll right.” I flopped down on the couch. I hadn’t meant to lie, but I couldn’t say the truth out loud. I propped my stocking feet up on Mama’s cherry coffee table.
    Mama adjusted the shirt over her knees. She raisedone eyebrow and cleared her throat. I moved my feet to the carpet.
    â€œIn ten minutes, I need you to set the table.”
    I nodded and closed my eyes. Bucky’s bruised-up face floated in front of me. I sat up. “I’ll do it now.”
    Mama had already spread her green tablecloth over the dining table. She even had two candles, not lit, for the centerpiece. I picked silverware from the utensil drawer and dumped it on the tablecloth. My hands shook as I got down four plates from the cabinet by the sink. I laid them out around the table. The glasses waited in the drying rack on the counter. I grabbed all four of them at once, but one popped out of my grip. It cracked against the counter edge, tumbled to the floor, and shattered.
    I knelt to pick up the pieces. Mama appeared in the kitchen doorway.
    â€œSam, don’t touch that. Get out of there, with no shoes on. Look where you’re stepping.”
    I stayed on my knees, staring at the broken glass. “I couldn’t stop it, Mama, I didn’t know what to do.”
    â€œBaby, don’t fret yourself over one glass. We’ve got others. Get your shoes and just sweep it up.”
    My chest and stomach ached, but still I couldn’t tell her. I swept up the glass while Mama pulled our dinner casserole out of the oven and put some rolls in to warm.
    â€œHello,” Father called from the front door. He thumped around in the entryway, hanging his coat. I took my shoes back over there.
    â€œHi.”
    â€œHi, Sam.” Father smiled. “Where’s your brother?” Stick’s hook on the coatrack was empty. I shrugged. It was past our usual suppertime. Had he heard about Bucky already? News like this traveled fast in the neighborhood. If he’d found out, good. Then I wouldn’t have to be the one to tell him. Maybe I wouldn’t have to say anything about it, ever.
    Mama left the dinner to warm while Father and I washed up, and we all waited for Stick. After a half hour Stick hadn’t come home yet. Mama was worried sick over him. She didn’t say anything, but she kept twisting her hands and looking out the front window. Finally, Father declared, “Let’s eat.”
    We had finished dinner and were clearing the table when the doorbell rang. Mama raced from the kitchen and flung open the door. Fred and Leon came inside.
    â€œCan I get either of you anything?” Mama said. “Chicken casserole? Something to drink?”
    â€œNo, thank you, Marjorie,” Leon said. He faced Father. “We stopped by