Fire in the Streets by Kekla Magoon Page A

this,” Leroy says with a sigh. “But I have calls to make.”
    â€œMaxie can do it,” Jolene says.
    My ears perk up. I set aside the sopping sponge.
    Leroy looks over his shoulder. “Okay. Maxie.” He hands me a scrap of paper with phone numbers written on it. “Call these people and confirm that their food donations for The Breakfast are arriving sometime tomorrow.”
    â€œSure.”
    I like to use the phone. The big black receiver is weighty in my hand. I imagine it holding all the words ever spoken through it, and all the ones to come. My finger slides into the holes, one by one, dialing the plate around. There are two sevens, two nines, and a zero involved, which means the dial spins all the way around most of the time. Click, click, click, click. Whee.

CHAPTER 29
    I ’M WALKING HOME, STILL HIGH ON THE EFFECTS of talking on the phone. If I ever get a real office job, I can have a phone of my own, right on my very desk. I can pick it up and dial it anytime I want, for important business or just to see who answers. I like the idea of that. It has me skipping down the street.
    I should know by now—good feelings only last so long.
    Emmalee dashes toward me, that look of flight in her eyes that I know so well. I put out my hand to receive her.
    Emmalee’s cool fingers grip mine. “I don’t want to go home tonight,” she says.
    â€œIt’s okay.”
    I’ve been at her place when her dad comes home in a messed-up mood. The best thing to do is always to remove ourselves from the picture.
    We link arms and walk quickly, away from our familiar doorways, around the corner. I lean into her in a way thatsays “I know,” at least I hope it does. It’s different for me, but I know how it feels to need to run.
    â€œDo you want to look for Patrice?” I offer. Patrice with her quiet mother. Her father, who has a steady job and doesn’t raise his voice unless we earn it. Patrice with a bed wide enough for the three of us, and a room all to herself. We smile at her parents and call it a sleepover, but most times it’s really something else.
    Emmalee shakes her head. “Please. I can’t.”
    I get it. Sometimes it’s too hard to smile, in the face of everything we lack. Patrice loves us, struggles with us, but there are some things she really can’t see.
    â€œOkay, then.” We circle the block, arm in arm. As if one slow turn might change what it is we’ll return to.

CHAPTER 30
    E MMALEE’S GOING TO SLEEP OVER,” I announce to Ma and Wil. They’re coiled on the living room sofa, staring at some static snow on the television. I can’t even tell what show’s on underneath.
    â€œIt’s a school night,” Mama says. “Did you do your homework?”
    â€œWe’re going to finish it now,” I tell her. Emmalee doesn’t have her books over here, but we can make do with mine. It’s all the same.
    Turns out Emmalee’s already done her homework. She’s smart like that. Gets good grades, way better than mine. She makes me read to her the assignment out of the history book before she lets me skip to the math.
    â€œHaven’t you read it already?” I say.
    â€œYeah, but have you?” Emmalee’s going to be a teacher when she grows up. She already knows how to do that lookthey do that tells you to hush, you’re supposed to be working. It comes as easy to her as a smile. Going to college, then being a teacher. That’s her big dream. She doesn’t come out and say it ever, but it’s one of those things we just know.

    Raheem slides in and sees Emmalee. “Again?”
    â€œShut up,” I tell him. “She’s staying.”
    â€œI didn’t mean it like that.” A fierce expression passes over Raheem’s face. “One of these days,” he says, then draws the curtain.
    Emmalee lays her head on my shoulder. “He’s