Free Color the Sidewalk for Me by Brandilyn Collins Page A

around Kevy and drew his head to her chest.

chapter 10
    B y Sunday the whole town was chattering about Kevy’s near drowning, no doubt fueled by magpie Eva Bellingham, who ran the post office and knew everything about everybody. Mrs. B. was known in town as a godly “prayer warrior,” but I harbored my own opinions of her. Unfortunately—and inexplicably—she was Mama’s closest friend, even though Mrs. B. was a good twenty years older. Worse, she had an indirect connection with Danny. Miss Jessie, the orphaned niece whom Mr. and Mrs. B. had raised, was married to Lee Harding. Miss Jessie owned a sewing shop down by Tull’s, and everyone loved her. I often baby-sat her three kids.
    Monday morning Danny and I were the talk of school. Kevy was still in the hospital; we hoped he would be released that afternoon. Daddy had taken a rare day off his accounting job at Sledges’ Farm Equipment in Albertsville to stay with him and Mama at the hospital.
    Students and teachers alike inquired about Kevy’s health, all saying that they were praying for his full recovery. Then my friends’ expressions would change, announcing a new path of thought. Depending upon how close our friendship, the questions varied somewhat. On the way to school Melissa had demanded every titillating detail, assuming that being my best friend gave her the right. Melissa was still very much the same as when we were six—small for her age, constantly moving, fun-loving, bubbly. She often made me laugh yet was the first person I’d turn to if I needed a good cry. My fights with Mama were a repeated topic of our conversations. Melissa in turn would mourn about her worries over being so short and small-figured. “The boys look at me like I’m their little sister,” she’d breathe in disgust, tossing brown hair out of her eyes. Then she’d laugh, lest she sound too morose.
    But that morning her giggling invitation to gossip, her pixie face tilted toward me, was suddenly irritating. Just last Friday she’d whispered in similar stance about Bobby, her eyebrows arched, and I’d responded, breathless with feigned rapture. Then we’d laughed and laughed, delight sailing over our shoulders toward Randy and Bobby walking behind us. But I had no desire to giggle about Danny with anyone; what had happened between us was too personal, too real.
    Mona Tesch caught me at my locker between classes. “Goodness, Celia, Danny Cander,” she said, brown eyes round behind thick lenses. Because of her short, squat figure, the boys called her Stump behind her back. Her report cards were always full of A’s, and she prided herself on an extensive vocabulary. “What was it like pullin’ him out of the water? You must have been apoplectic.”
    I slid my math book onto the shelf and took out a history text. “He pulled himself out, Mona; he’s the one who rescued Kevy.”
    â€œYeah, but I heard he was so exhausted, you had to save them both.”
    Mona tended to stick out her tongue like a panting dog when she was excited. That and her curly white-blond head reminded me more of a distressed poodle than a stump.
    â€œDid you have to do mouth-to-mouth on Danny too?”
    I was getting tired of these conversations. Banging shut my locker door, I tried to keep my voice neutral. “No. He was fine. I just took care of Kevy.”
    â€œSo nothin’ happened?”
    â€œNothin’ happened? Danny saved my brother’s life. I don’t call that nothin’.”
    â€œI know, but—”
    â€œI gotta get to class, Mona.”
    Not five minutes later, before history started, a hawkeyed Miss Fleming was remarking, “Isn’t it wonderful that Danny happened to come along at just the right time.” She was much relieved when I said, “Yes, it is.” Heaven forbid, Miss Fleming, that Danny and I had actually been talking on the riverbank before