Forged by Fire by Sharon M. Draper Read Free Book Online Page A

his lap.
    Terrified, she could only weep silently as he touched her, rubbing his hand over her arms, her back, her legs. He had done this many times before, ever since she was a baby in Atlanta, but very little since Gerald had come to live with them. “Now, don’t that feel good, baby?” he crooned at her. “Just relax. You know you like it.”
    Angel said nothing. She just wished that he would stop and hoped that he would not want to play “the game.” Jordan whispered in her ear, his breath hot and foul, “Youremember our secret game, Angel? It’s been a long time since we played. You remember the rules. Touching is good. Telling is bad. If you tell, your mama will put you out to live in the snow all alone, and you will die. Now, let’s play.”
    Just then, Gerald opened the door. At first, when he saw Angel on Jordan’s lap, he was confused. Jordan rarely showed affection to anyone—not to Monique, and especially not to the children. But to see Angel sitting there, looking so ... so
uncomfortable,
Gerald thought suddenly. So miserable. Instantly he realized what was happening. Waves of disgust and hot, burning anger enveloped him.
    Angel glanced at Gerald. She looked at first relieved, then confused and embarrassed. She leaped from Jordan’s lap and ran blindly to her bed. She put the covers over her head and trembled uncontrollably. Jordan, angry that he had been interrupted, slapped Gerald full in the face. “Get out!” he roared. “I’m sick of lookin’ at you! You and your mama and your stupid sister all make me sick!”
    Gerald said nothing for a moment, but stared at Jordan with hatred and pain. His hands, clenched into tight, angry fists, threatened at any moment to explode with purple rage into Jordan’s face. But he didn’t want to give Jordan the satisfaction of knowing that he had hurt him, and he didn’t want to endanger Angel. Jordan started to hit Gerald again, but the fire in the boy’s eyes made him stop. Instead, he grabbed his coat suddenly and ran out.
    Gerald went over to where Angel was still trembling beneath the covers and said gently, “Did he hurt you, Angel?”
    She peeked out. “Is he gone?”
    â€œYes, probably to the bar on the corner. He’s gone. Did he hurt you?” Gerald repeated.
    â€œNo, Gerald, he didn’t hurt me, but he scares me so bad. Don’t be late like that again, please.” Her eyes were dark with fear.
    â€œI won’t let him hurt you, Angel,” swore Gerald. “Guess what?” he said, trying to cheer her up. “I found us a Christmas tree. The man at the market said he’d give it to me. It’s just a little one, but it’s just right for me and you. Tomorrow, you can come with me to get it.”
    â€œWhat about Jordan?” asked Angel fearfully.
    â€œDon’t you worry ’bout Jordan,” Gerald told Angel. His voice was tight and tense. “You got me now, you hear?”
    Angel relaxed a bit, then took Gerald’s strong hands into her small ones. She looked up at him, smiled, and replied softly, “I know you ain’t happy here, Gerald. And I know that missin’ Aunt Queen makes you feel cold and frozen. I know, ’cause even in Atlanta, I was always cold on the inside—always cold. But since you’ve been around, I finally feel like sunshine.”
    Gerald smiled at her, and said gently, “Merry Christmas, Sunshine.”

NINE
    G ERALD AWOKE ON Christmas morning thinking of Aunt Queen. Last year, she had stayed up all night, cooking the turkey, wrapping surprises and hiding them all over the house for Gerald to find. He sighed as he thought of how much his life had changed in just one year. Today, no smells of dressing and sauce and pie drifted to his room—only the strong silent smell of fear and secrets.
    Gerald tried not to think about the past or even the future. He survived