Night on Fire by Ronald Kidd

Author:Ronald Kidd
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781504017404
Publisher: Albert Whitman & Company

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

That stupid rooster.

He woke up at sunrise every morning, which was fine during the week. On weekends, though, I liked to sleep late—or as late as Mama would let me before rousting me out of bed to help with breakfast.

When the rooster crowed that morning, I remembered it was Sunday. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. It was pink and orange, the color of the horizon.

In an hour or so, Mama would come in. We’d go to the kitchen and make Daddy’s favorite coffee cake. Then all of us would dress up and go to church, where Pastor Bob would pray about loving our neighbors.

I loved my neighbors. I loved my town. But how far did love go? Did it stretch to Fifteenth and Pine where Jarmaine lived? Did it stretch to Birmingham or Montgomery?

Maybe love wasn’t the answer. If you asked the Freedom Riders, they might say they just wanted respect. Ignore me, even hate me, but let me live. Give me a chance. Surely people could understand that. Somehow, though, my town didn’t.

I had spent my life watching. When you watch, you notice. You think. You get restless. I wanted to do something.

Reaching over to the nightstand, I opened the drawer and took out the bus schedule. The Birmingham bus was leaving at nine fourteen, and Jarmaine would be on it. From there she would connect to Montgomery, where she would arrive by midafternoon. The trip wasn’t long, but if you were by yourself, it might seem like an eternity.

It might go faster if you were with a friend.

The thought popped into my head like the flash on Grant’s camera, freezing the action and lighting up the shadows. For as long as I could remember, I had watched the bus drive by my house. I had dreamed that someday I’d get on it and leave. I would go anywhere and do whatever I wanted. I would have perfect freedom.

Jarmaine wanted freedom, but it wasn’t a dream and it wasn’t perfect. It was something to fight for. It was a seat on the bus, and I could help her get it.

If I asked permission, Mama and Daddy would say no. Sometimes, though, you don’t ask. You just do it, because you have to.

I put away the bus schedule and went to the window. The sky had turned bright red, flooding the yard with color. A nuthatch sang, and a pair of downy woodpeckers tapped on a tree trunk.

The day was just beginning. It could be any old Sunday, or it could be special. I took a deep breath. I looked off in the distance toward Montgomery.

I was tired of watching. I wanted to be a rider.

I found Jarmaine in front of the Greyhound station, sitting on the curb with a basket next to her. She had seemed so strong the day before, when she had talked about her plans. She seemed smaller now, like a young child.

I thought of a day at the state fair when I was seven years old and wanted to go on the Rotor.

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