Read Online Flowers in the Snow by Danielle Stewart - Free Book Online Page A

behind ours. He said your brains aren’t as big as ours.” Betty never meant to sound harsh, but she could tell by the reaction on Alma’s face she’d crossed a line.
    “When are you going to realize your daddy is a moron?” Alma huffed, and Betty realized how profound that statement was. She wasn’t surprised by Alma’s opinion of her father but the fact she was willing to say it to her spoke volumes about how she saw Betty as a friend, not someone to fear.
    “Everything he’s told you so far is malarkey. I’m tired of talking about this stuff. How would you like it if I told you stuff about you that wasn’t true? If I walked into your house and plopped myself down and just started saying how dumb you are, how dirty you are? Can’t we ever talk about anything different?” Alma pursed her lips and folded her arms across her chest.
    Betty gave it some thought. She had been coming here for two weeks and for the most part the only thing they ever talked about was what Betty was interested in. And it did usually turn out to be something that was probably pretty insulting. She had no clue what Alma liked. “What do you want to talk about? Is there anything you like to do?”
    “I make bracelets,” Alma said proudly, unfolding her arms and turning her wrist out so Betty could see one. Tied tightly and looped around three times was a colorful woven bracelet. “My daddy brings extra thread and string home from the mill, and I turn it into these. I taught myself how to make all different kinds.”
    “Wow.” Betty smiled, leaning in close to see the intricate pattern the different colored threads had created. “Can you teach me how to make one?”
    “I can try. It might be hard since our brains are different sizes,” Alma teased. “I’ll go get my basket of thread.” Alma jogged off around the corner and quickly reappeared with a tiny basket and a big smile. Guilt nagged at Betty’s stomach at the realization she’d been so painfully rude and selfish since meeting Alma. The world had suddenly gotten so serious around her she forgot what having a little fun felt like.
    Within a few minutes the walls between the girls crumbled under the weight of their laughter. Two bracelets and four cookies later they’d made more than something nice to wear on their wrists. They’d built a bridge between them with thread and knots.
    “I’m sorry if the stuff I’ve been asking sounds rude. I didn’t mean any of it that way. I’m starting to think everything everyone says about colored folks is pretty much a lie. I just don’t understand why. When did all this start?” Betty slipped a bracelet on Alma’s wrist and tied it tightly for her.
    “I dunno know. A long time ago, I guess. Maybe that’s the question you should be asking Mama. She knows all about history and stuff. Her grandma was a slave.”
    “Where is she anyway? It’s almost time for me to get gone before your daddy comes home. Has she ever been this late before?”
    “She has to stay after school sometimes. That’s probably it.” Alma didn’t look up from her bracelet as she spoke, and Betty could tell she was fighting worry.
    Betty opened her mouth to offer something comforting but stopped when she heard a board on the front porch creak. “Go in the back room,” Alma ordered, jumping to her feet to see out the window.
    “Don’t bother,” Winnie’s voice called as she pushed open the door. “I heard you two laughing from down the street. And when you tell someone to hide you gotta tell them quiet like. You two were as loud as the choir on Easter Sunday.
    “Sorry, Mama,” Alma offered as she dove into her mother’s arms. “Where have you been? You’re so late.”
    “Was a long day, that’s all. Now tell me what you two girls are doing making all that ruckus. The way you’ve been acting lately I figured I’d come home and you two would be throwing punches at each other, not laughing and playing.”
    “We made up,” Betty said,