Fire in the Streets by Kekla Magoon Read Free Book Online

can’t get away?
    I put on my nightgown and come out to the living room. By this point, Raheem is wearing his shorts andundershirt. He’s at the window again, looking out. Raheem opens his mouth to say something, but then there’s a knock at the door.
    â€œWho is it?” He heads over there.
    â€œLucille Junkitt.” Our neighbor down the hall.
    Raheem opens the door. “Hi, Mrs. Junkitt.”
    She’s in her slippers, hair in rollers under a shower cap. “Your mama called. I told her it’s not safe trying to get home, so she’s staying with someone from her job tonight. Everything okay here?” She pokes her head in to get a look at me. “Maxie?”
    â€œWe’re fine, Mrs. Junkitt.”
    She nods. “Y’all let me know if you need anything, you hear?”
    We promise to do so, then Raheem locks and bolts the door behind her. He starts back to the window.
    I step into his path. “Don’t watch. We shouldn’t watch anymore.”
    â€œYou’re right,” he says, hands on my shoulders. “It’s late. Let’s just go to sleep.”
    We go to the room we share. Our beds are parallel, pushed to opposite walls of the room. I slide under my single top sheet. Even though it’s warm, I can’t fall asleep if I’m exposed.
    I reach for my bottom dresser drawer and pull outLittle Ralphie, my stuffed brown dog. He’s gotten kind of ratty, and he lives in the drawer most nights, but I still love him. When I get him out, Raheem usually teases me about being too old for toys, but tonight he doesn’t comment. He picks up some laundry we’ve got strewn about the room and tosses it toward the closet.
    We put up a curtain some while ago. My half. His half. It’s not an even split; I have no window. No privacy either: He comes through my space because I have the door. I can always hear him breathing in his sleep; I’m grateful he doesn’t snore.
    Tonight Raheem lies straight on top of his covers. He folds his hands beneath his head and stares at the ceiling.
    I roll onto my side, facing Raheem, and hug Little Ralphie. Plenty goes without saying around here, and it’s nice when we end up on the same page. Like the way he knows tonight is not a night to draw the curtain.

CHAPTER 11
    W HEN I WAKE UP, MAMA’S SITTING on the edge of my bed, stroking my hair.
    â€œI didn’t mean to wake you.”
    â€œThen why are you poking me in the head?” I mumble.
    Mama kisses my face. “Why do you insist on following in your brother’s footsteps? I don’t like you going to all these protests. What are they having you do there?”
    A little flurry of panic in my belly. “It’s mostly holding signs and stuff. I’m fine, Mama.”
    Her fingers frame my face. “I didn’t say I was going to stop you. I know it’s important. I just worry about you.”
    â€œOh.”
    She sighs. “We have eggs. Do you want me to make you some?”
    I sit up. “No, I’m going down to The Breakfast, like I always do.”
    Mama frowns. “What’s this breakfast you’re always going to?”
    â€œMama, I told you. It’s the Panthers’ Free Breakfast. They do it for all the schools in the neighborhood.”
    â€œYou got another week of summer. Why are you trying to go down to school early?”
    I groan. “ Mama. It’s breakfast and it’s free.”
    She shakes her head. “Free food’s never really free.”
    â€œThis one is.” I swing my legs out of bed and stand up. “Capital F-R-E-E. Free.” This is a word I know exactly how to spell.
    â€œI didn’t raise no charity case,” Mama says. “You don’t gotta give them nothing in exchange for all that food?”
    â€œWell, I volunteer at the office,” I say. “That’s something.”
    â€œHmm. I still don’t like it.” Mama gets