Read Online Last in a Long Line of Rebels by Lisa Lewis Tyre - Free Book Online

has lived in the same house for 175 years.
Relatives sold off most everything at an auction.
WM may have been a thief.
WM wrote a letter to Louise telling her to be careful. (Maybe she was a thief too?)
The house will be demolished unless I figure out a way to stop it.
    I stuffed it back in my jeans. Hopefully, we’d learn more at the museum.
    Franklin, wearing his Boy Scout uniform and a camera over his shoulder, finally rode into the driveway and carefully parked his bike under the oak. “Are you two ready to depart?”
    â€œYou could just say, ‘leave,’ Franklin. What’s with the uniform? I thought Scouts were over for the summer.”
    Franklin straightened his neckerchief. “Since it’s Scout business, I wanted to look professional.”
    â€œGotcha. Let’s go.”
    We were going to see Bertie at the Grey Motel before heading to the museum. Her usual morning routine included holding court at their restaurant and catching up on the town gossip. If we played our cards right, we’d score another breakfast and a personal tour of the museum. Bertie can’t resist showing it off.
    â€œLou,” Franklin said, “I do have some information for you.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThere was a vote last Friday. We were right. The county wants to build new offices on your property. They offered to buy it from your dad, but he said no. So they voted to condemn it.” He frowned. “I’m sorry.”
    I looked back at our house as we walked. It looked sadder. “If we move, I’ll just die,” I said.
    â€œYou’re not moving,” Benzer said. “That would not be exciting—it would be tragic. We prayed for exciting, remember?”
    I frowned. “Yeah, yeah, I remember.”
    â€œWell, technically speaking, exciting does mean to ‘stir up emotion,’ so loss of any kind could be labeled ‘exciting.’”
    â€œFranklin,” I said, walking faster, “has anyone ever told you how annoying your brain can be?”
    â€œYes,” he said, sighing. “Frequently.”
    â€œHey, check it out.” Benzer said. He pointed to where a red flyer hung on a telephone pole. “Zollicoffer Minority Scholarship Fund-Raiser. I bet this is for Isaac.”
    I looked down the sidewalk. Red flyers lined both sides of the street as far as I could see.
    â€œThat’s great. Especially since the chances of winning the Pride of Zollicoffer scholarship are slim to none unless you’re white, at least while Coach Peeler is in charge.” I shook my head. “It’s so unfair how people like Coach Peeler and Pete Winningham get to mess with people’s futures.”
    â€œThat’s why being governor is on my list,” Franklin said. “If you want to change things, you need to be a person of significance and take action.”
    I dropped my head. “We can’t wait that long, Franklin. We have to figure something out now, significant or not, and take action.”

    The Grey Motel parking lot was full. The sleigh bells attached to the door announced our arrival, and we walked through the crowded room to the booth where Bertie sat.
    â€œWhat are y’all doing here this early? Isn’t summer vacation for sleeping till noon?”
    I shrugged, and the three of us slid in around her.
    Bertie moved her coffee and newspaper. “Robbie,” she called to the waitress, “if those biscuits are hot, I’m sure these kids would like some with your famous chocolate gravy.”
    Franklin and Benzer grinned. Chocolate gravy was the diner’s specialty.
    A few minutes later, Robbie came back with a plate of steaming biscuits and a gravy boat. As we ate, Bertie turned to speak to a friend in the booth behind her. I watched, amazed. I’d heard her come up the stairs to bed about midnight, and she was gone by the time I got up at eight o’clock, yet no frown lines, no bags under the