Read Online Color the Sidewalk for Me by Brandilyn Collins - Free Book Online Page A

too late.
    â€œIt’s closest,” he explained quickly, pointing across the field. “We cut through there, it’s only about a half mile.”
    â€œAre you sure it’s okay?”
    â€œWhy shouldn’t it be okay?” he said sharply.
    Suddenly it was the same old Danny, with a challenge in his eye and a chip on his shoulder. It startled me, his acting like that now. Not that our hug meant we liked each other or anything, but I certainly didn’t deserve his school-yard-fight cockiness. I opened my mouth to retort, but he looked away, neck stiffened, and in a flash I was back on the school playground in fifth grade, gaping with my friends at his balled fists and blood-spattered shirt.
    â€œThis is a stinkin’ town,” Danny had leered at me that day, “and when I’m old enough, I’m gittin’ out of it.”
    â€œIt’s not this town that’s stinkin’, Danny Cander!” Gerald Henley had huffed. “It’s the smell a your daddy, ’cause he’s always drunk!”
    Gerald was short and stout and known for his clumsiness. He was an idiot to spout off to Danny like that, and the minute he shouted the words, his pasty face blanched with fear. Like a bolt of lightning Danny’s fist shot out and smashed him in the nose. Gerald yelled in pain, blood spurting through his splayed fingers. Danny stood his ground, glaring down at him.
    â€œDon’t you ever say a word about my daddy again.”
    It was the tone of his voice—quiet, shaking—that caused me to ignore Gerald’s howls and gaze wide-eyed at Danny. Suddenly I saw him differently. It wasn’t hatred or anger that had made him hit sissy Gerald, I realized; it was shame.
    That same expression was now narrowing his mouth and eyes. If you didn’t recognize its essence, you’d think he was angry. I supposed in a way he was—angry that for all his life he’d had to battle for the honor of a drunken father. Guilt flushed through me as I realized how hard it was for Danny to invite us to his house. I wasn’t thrilled about going, either, but I would never let him know that.
    Brushing wet dirt off my shorts, I said, “Let’s get started, then.”
    Kevy protested having to move but I pushed him to his feet. “Danny, can you get under his other arm? I don’t think he’s good for much, are you, Kevy?”
    â€œN–no.” He managed a teeth-chattering smile. “Not m–much.”
    It’s amazing how long a half mile can seem under such circumstances. Danny offered to carry Kevy, but I said, “No, you’re already exhausted; if you fall over, what am I supposed to do, carry you both?” I spoke lightly, smiling at him, hoping he understood the message beneath my words. He shrugged but I saw in his eyes that he’d heard me.
    We moved on either side of Kevy, Danny’s arm around my brother’s back, brushing against my side as we began to half drag him along.
    â€œJust go upriver,” Danny pointed with his chin, “back to where we were fishin’. There’s a path there that cuts through the field to my house.”
    In a few minutes we reached the spot where Kevy had fallen from Jake’s Rock. “What about our stuff?” I asked, spotting the tackle box, bucket, and poles.
    â€œI’ll git it later.” Danny urged us toward the path through the daisy-covered field. It seemed to stretch endlessly.
    All those years, I marveled, I’d been fishing near the path that led to Danny Cander’s house. I couldn’t explain why that made me feel so strange. Maybe it was because our worlds had always seemed so far apart, when they really weren’t at all. Yet in one sense they would always be far apart, Danny’s daddy being the target of town gossip while my family was respected. What did it matter that I was Thomas Bradley’s grandgirl and Danny was a Cander?