Summer's Freedom by Ruth Wind, Barbara Samuel Read Free Book Online

linked an arm through Sam’s. “Just keep an open mind. That’s the important thing.”
    A shout startled Maggie from her quiet discussion just as they reached the car. She glanced over her shoulder. A half a block up, a small crowd had gathered in front of a record store, and Maggie glimpsed one of the silver-studded black leather jackets that so pointedly identified the speed rockers defending Proud Fox.
    Instincts quivering, she turned to Samantha. “Grab the camera from the trunk,” she said, throwing her the keys and scrambling for a notepad in her long pockets.
    Sam moved quickly and joined Maggie as they hurried toward the crowd. The girl had been trained in the use of a camera at her father’s knee, and she now checked the film count and settings, then slung the strap over her neck, focusing as they ran. In a moment, Maggie heard the whir of the camera motor as Sam snapped a few preliminary shots.
    “How much film is there?” Maggie asked.
    “Not much. About half a roll.”
    “I don’t want you in the middle of this. Shoot from the edges of the crowd.”
    “Mother!” Sam protested. “How can I get anything decent from back there?”
    With a mental kick, Maggie realized Samantha was burning with purpose. She bit her lip but made a split-second decision. “Do what you have to do,” she said. “Just be careful.”
    She was rewarded with a solemn nod from Samantha, who kicked off her high heels near a doorway. Maggie noted the gesture and filed it.
    As she reached the knot of curious onlookers, Maggie found two pairs of opposing soldiers in the ongoing war over rock and roll. Two boys, about fifteen, conservatively dressed, faced a couple of speed rockers in leather and long hair. A shouting match was going on.
    Maggie forgot being a reporter, forgot her newspaper entirely. “What’s going on here?” she shouted.
    All four faces swiveled toward the authority in her voice. “Beat it, lady,” said one of the rockers, his lip curling in a dismissive sneer. “This is none of your business.”
    “It is my business,” she said, stepping forward. “You—“she glanced at each face in turn ”—
all
of you, made it my business when your ridiculous fighting gave me seven stitches Wednesday.”
    “What are you, a teacher or something?” the same dark-haired boy asked. He was no more than sixteen, with the smooth jaw of one who has not yet seen a razor, but he was a solid six feet tall and exuded an attitude of sullen arrogance.
    “No. I’m a reporter for the
Wanderer.”
She addressed the entire group with crossed arms. “I’ve been following this story for two months, and frankly, I’m tired of it. Why don’t you all back off and agree to live and let live?”
    All four boys started talking at once, protesting her suggestion of détente with a dozen reasons why it couldn’t work. No, Maggie realized, only three were protesting. The second speed rocker touched the arm of his friend, his blue eyes trained on Maggie. In those eyes, she saw the unmistakable glow of intelligence, and she addressed her next question to him. “Do you really think this is solving anything?”
    Long blond lashes swept down to hide his expression. He said nothing.
    “Are you going to quit buying records by Proud Fox?”
    He frowned at her as though she’d just suggested a walk on Saturn.
    “So what’s the big deal?” she asked.
    “They started it.” He licked his lower lip, looking distinctly uncomfortable.
    “I’m not finished yet,” Maggie returned. She could feel the small crowd begin to disperse behind her, the thrill seekers bored with negotiation. She turned to the other boys, with their shorter hair. One even wore a tie. Maggie looked at the other one, who seemed more receptive. “Do you two think you’re going to stop anyone from buying a record by protesting?”
    The boy she had spoken to shifted uncomfortably, but the one with the tie spoke up. “That isn’t the point. We believe Proud Fox is