Color the Sidewalk for Me by Brandilyn Collins Read Free Book Online Page A

spot to hang your knees over and cast. According to Granddad, he’d have won the contest fair and square if Jake Lewellyn hadn’t stolen two of Granddad’s fish and thrown them in his own bucket once he was back on the bank.
    â€œThe water’s too cold, Kevy! Another minute and you won’t even feel your legs!”
    He threw me a grin. “I can’t feel ’em now!”
    â€œWell, get back, idgit! You’re gonna be chest-deep by the time you reach the rock.” I strode as close to the water as I could without getting my feet wet. “Besides, the current’s too strong. Look at it!”
    He was up to his thighs now, fighting to stay even with the rock as the current swirled. “I don’t have to look at it; I can feel it.” His voice drifted over one shoulder.
    â€œDrat it, Kevy,” I breathed, putting my hands on my hips as I watched in silence, willing him to make it to the boulder. “Go, Kevy, go,” I urged under my breath. He seemed to be making no progress. “Kevy!” I yelled. “Move!”
    â€œMy legs won’t work, Celia!” His voice was tinged with fear.
    I resisted the urge to declare I’d told him so. “Just try harder, Kevy!” I cried, pacing along the water. “You’re almost there.”
    And miraculously he did. One step, then another. A third and a fourth, and he was pulling himself up on the rock. “See! Told you I could do it!” He lay breathing hard near the bottom of the slope, watching his hand in fascination as he tried vainly to move his fingers. I exhaled loudly, feeling the clutch in my chest release. “Well, on your way back,” I hollered, “if you drown, don’t come runnin’ to me. I’m not about to go in that water after you!”
    â€œWhew!” a voice exclaimed behind me. “I was sweatin’ for a minute there.”
    With a start I spun around to see the jean-clad figure of Danny Cander, an old white T-shirt turned lengthwise and tied around his hips, his chest bare. He held a fishing pole in one hand and a rusty tackle box in the other. A strand of his thick brown hair was hanging into one vivid green eye, and he absently tossed it away. “Sorry,” he said, embarrassed. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
    My mouth dropped open, then snapped shut. “Oh . . . oh no,” I managed. “It’s okay.” Our eyes met and held; then I looked down, seeing his gaze slip away at the same time. I was suddenly aware of the old beige shorts and faded blue T-shirt I was wearing. My hair had to be in tangles and my skin was too pale. I shifted from one foot to the other during the awkward pause, feeling a flush rise in my cheeks, hoping he’d say something. But the only noise I heard from Danny was the sound of his swallowing. I put a hand to the nape of my neck and turned back toward the river to look at Kevy. “My silly brother. Thought the fishin’ would be better out there.”
    He exhaled. “Probably is.”
    I watched Kevy climb up the rock, dragging his pole along with him, a worm writhing on its hook. “Guess he’s warmin’ up.”
    â€œWhat?”
    I turned back to face Danny. “I said I guess he’s warmin’ up.”
    He nodded. “Oh. Yeah.”
    Funny thing about Danny Cander. He’d always held a certain mildly threatening fascination for me, ever since I’d met him at the wedding of his father’s handsome first cousin, Lee Harding, who was assistant manager at the lumber mill. Danny was seven then and I was six, and I’d been jealous when Granddad had enthralled him at the reception with a recounting of how his Volturno River medal was earned. “Stay away from him,” Mona Tesch had warned me later at school with a sniff. “His daddy drinks.”
    Brazen and tough in fights when he was younger, Danny was also amazingly shy when cornered for a