Stella by Starlight by Sharon M. Draper Read Free Book Online Page B

helping Papa lay planks of wood across four tree stumps. Mama threw a bedsheet over the whole thing, and like magic, it had become a supper table! Then Papa added logs to the fire pit, readying it for a toasty blaze.
    Spoon Man, Stella noticed, simply sat there and watched the activity around him, sipping from a cup of sweet tea, nibbling Mama’s sugar cookies, and burping occasionally. The man was a burper, that was for sure. But Stella knew his turn was coming—he was saving his energy for the storytelling. Nobody in town could hold a candle to the Spoon Man when it came to unfolding a tale.
    Neighbors started arriving, armed with logs for the fire pit as well as food. “Jojo, run get some kindlin’ from the woodpile and stack it here,” Papa told him. “And be mindful of snakes, boy. They like to sleep up under them logs. You wake ’em up, they ain’t gonna be happy!”
    Jojo, with Dusty at his heels, was back in a blink with a handful of twigs.
    Papa took them, saying, “More, boy. We need lots. Bigger pieces. Take your time,” and sent Jojo off again. He took a seat beside Spoon Man. Jojo and the dog disappeared once more.
    How much kindling did Papa need? Stella wondered. Ah! She figured it out—Papa was keeping Jojo out of everyone’s way for a little while, because he was fixing to say something to Spoon Man he didn’t want Jojo to hear. She quietly lowered herself to the middle step and pretended to pick a splinter from the bottom of her foot.
    Spoon Man wasted no time getting to the point. “So, I hear tell y’all got some Klan worries here in Bumblebee.”
    Stella’s father’s eyebrows arched. “I reckon that kind of news travels fast.”
    Spoon Man leaned forward. “Even a one-legged rumor gets around after a while,” he said with a chuckle. “And this one was wearin’ speed skates!”
    â€œWhat you been hearin’?” Stella’s father asked.
    Stella watched out of the corner of her eye as Spoon Man chomped down on his third cookie and covered his mouth to stifle another burp. “Well, everywhere Igo, folks is hungry. Crops failin.’ Cows comin’ up dry. Bosses ain’t payin’. The way I see it, people be lookin’ for change, for something to believe in.”
    Dr. Hawkins came up and poured himself some tea from the enamel pitcher Mama had placed on a fruit crate, then joined Papa and Spoon Man. “Well, we all know about the election comin’ up next month,” he said. “Everybody says Franklin Delano Roosevelt is gonna be in the White House.”
    â€œFolks sick of Hoover—that’s for sure,” Spoon Man said.
    â€œI sure would like to cast my vote,” Papa added.
    Stella sat ramrod straight. What?
    â€œNow, you know they don’t want us to votin’,” Spoon Man chided, tipping his chair back on two legs. “Maybe that’s why they all of a sudden wearin’ the bedsheets off their clotheslines again.”
    â€œLook, I’m not lookin’ for trouble. I just think I ought to be able to vote,” her father said evenly.
    â€œWhat for?” Mr. Bates asked, coming up to the porch, taking his time as he climbed with his crutch. He’d contracted polio a few years back—the only person in town who had, as far as Stella knew. She scootedto the far side of the steps to give him room and began rubbing each of her toenails clean with a little bit of spit, hoping she’d stay unnoticed.
    â€œWon’t make no difference nohow. Won’t put a nickel in your pocket or a biscuit on your table,” Spoon Man argued reasonably.
    â€œIt would to me,” her father replied stubbornly. “I live in this country and I ain’t no slave, and dagummit, I oughta be allowed to vote!”
    Dr. Hawkins swirled his tea around and gazed into the bronze liquid. “Jonah, I’ve looked into this. You know