The Rock and the River by Kekla Magoon

crumple to the ground. But he straightened, balancing the cardboard long enough to dump the load into a trash bin. He sighed with accomplishment while she readied a new pile, then he bent again into their slow waltz of sorrow. I should have stopped to help them, but I couldn’t let myself do more than see.
    I found Maxie sitting with a group of girls in front of her building. She leaped to her feet when she saw me, breaking away from her friends.
    â€œI have to get away from here,” she said, gazing up at me with eyes that were holding back tears. I hugged her, partly because I didn’t want her to see the shame I suddenly felt. I was glad I’d come, but I’d been selfish, thinking only that Maxie would make me feel better. Things must have been even worse for her. I hated seeing the neighborhood in shambles, but it wasn’t my home.
    Maxie and I went down to the park near the school. She took my hand as we walked, her soft fingers gripping the edges of my palm. Neither of us had much to say. We sat ona thin metal bench and watched squirrels dart between the budding trees.
    â€œRaheem is with the Panthers now,” she said at last.
    â€œI thought he always was.”
    â€œIt’s different now.” She pushed her hair over her shoulders, her fingers twisting through the curled black strands. “It’s just different.”
    â€œYeah.” Stick had been gone more than ever lately. The house was quiet, everything in it a reminder of things now lost.
    Maxie rolled her lips in and out. “I’m really afraid now, Sam,” she whispered. “Are you?”
    â€œA little,” I admitted. She leaned her head against my chest and I laid my arm over her shoulders. “I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
    â€œWhat does your dad say?”
    I sighed. “He thinks nothing’s changed. ‘All the more reason to press forward.’ ‘We shall—’” I couldn’t say it.
    The top of Maxie’s head brushed against my chin. “We shall overcome?”
    â€œYeah, that.”
    Maxie pulled away from me. “There’s a meeting on Wednesday.”
    The thousand thoughts swarming inside me cried out in unison at her soft words. I took her hands. “I’ll be there.”
    Â 
    Right away, I regretted walking into the house. Father and Stick stood at opposite sides of the dining table, heaving deep breaths and glowering at each other. Stick wore his black jacket, his shades resting on top of his head. Mama was in the kitchen, not slicing the vegetables laid out on the counter. She looked through the doorway at me as I came into the living room.
    â€œHow can you not be angry?” Stick shouted.
    â€œOf course I’m angry. You know how I feel—felt—about Martin. What’s been done is utterly reprehensible. But we have to go on.”
    â€œGo on with what?” Stick cried out.
    â€œYou’ve got to hold on to that anger, son.” Father leaned forward, hands balled in fists at his chest. “Let it burn, let it fan the flames of your will, your determination. The movement is bigger than one man, Steven. Martin would tell you that.”
    Stick took off his shades and slung them onto the table. They clattered along the wood and came to rest against Father’s newspaper.
    â€œIt’s over,” Stick said. “Everyone knows it.”
    â€œYou don’t stop fighting because of a setback, even this one. If anything, it’s a reason to keep going.” Father’s voice vibrated with intensity.
    â€œI’m not saying stop; no one is saying stop,” Stick cried, throwing out his arms. “I’m talking about putting up a real fight.”
    â€œWe are fighting, son. It’s a long road.”
    Stick grabbed the sides of his head, digging his fingers into his hair. “It’s not happening. Dr. King tried the peaceful way. They came back at him with bullets.