Free Fire from the Rock by Sharon Draper

with the usual comforting Sunday smells of floor wax and burning candles and Old Spice cologne.
    Though she would never want her father to know, this was the time in the service Sylvia usually spent daydreaming. His sermons weren’t exactly exciting. She wondered mildly what today’s “special message” would be. She noticed that Reggie, sitting just one pew over, also seemed more attentive than usual.
    Pastor Patterson raised his arms in the air, as if he was reaching out to Heaven, and began to speak. “You know, my daddy used to tell me, ‘Son, times are a-changin’. You better get on that train to glory, because I can see the handwriting on the wall!’ Of course, his statement didn’t make much sense to me as a child. Old folks are famous for mixing metaphors—forgive him.”
    The congregation chuckled.
    â€œBut my daddy had a vision of the future that I couldn’t see at the time. I lost my father when I was a very young man—he was killed because of hatred and bigotry, and I lost his vision when I lost him.”
    He paused and wiped his brow.
    â€œYes, my terrible loss made me close my eyes to reality. I’ve been afraid to face the future, afraid to offer my children—Gary, Sylvia Faye, and Donna Jean—any hope of getting on that train.” The rows of people shifted like water as everyone turned to look at them.
    Sylvia blushed deeply. Her father never talked about family. He believed some things ought to be private, and Sylvia had always appreciated that.
    Donna Jean, sitting next to Sylvia, wore patent-leather shoes, lacy socks, and a starched yellow dress. She leaned over and whispered with pride, “He’s talking about us!”
    â€œSh-sh-sh,” their mother admonished.
    Pastor Patterson’s voice rose. “Our rock, Little Rock, truly is a rock in a weary land, friends. Let me hear you say ‘Amen’ if you’re weary!”
    â€œAmen!” the congregation cried out with feeling.
    â€œLet me hear you say ‘Amen’ if you feel like you need a rock in a weary land!”
    â€œAmen!” they called out.
    â€œLet me hear you say ‘Amen!’ if you need shelter in the time of the storm!”
    For a third time they all repeated, “Amen! Amen!”
    When the church had quieted, Pastor Patterson continued. “They’re talking about integrating the schools of Little Rock. It’s been a rumor for years, but this year it looks as though it will really happen. They want to take your children and my children and let these young people do what we can’t—change the world.”
    â€œHere it comes,” Sylvia leaned over and whispered to DJ. “He’s gonna stomp all over the idea.” Their mother shushed them both with a touch of her gloved hand.
    Pastor Patterson paused. “I think we ought to let them try.”
    While murmurs broke out all around her, Sylvia sat stunned.
    â€œMy son is an angry young man, as I once was,” the pastor continued. The murmurs stopped suddenly, as if everyone had suddenly inhaled.
    â€œHe wants to change the world this very instant, and he’s been physically attacked as a result.” Sylvia turned to observe Gary, who was sitting on the very back pew. He was staring at his father with astonishment.
    â€œOf my two daughters, my baby girl, Donna Jean, is already a victim of hatred at age eight, and my older daughter, Sylvia, often looks at me with eyes of disappointment and despair. Unless she needs lunch money,” he added. The church needed the levity.
    I didn’t think he knew how I felt, Sylvia thought with amazement. Her father always seemed so distant. He’d tell her what to do, but he never really talked with her.
    Sylvia glanced over to where Reggie was sitting. Dressed in a black suit that was a little too small and a skinny red tie, he grinned at her, then turned his attention back to her father. She