Free Autumn Street by Lois Lowry Page A

Tatie's."
    Liar, I thought.
    "My birthday is in March," I said. "So I will be the youngest person in the first grade, probably."
    "When I go to school I going to learn to read right
away," said Charles to my great-aunts. "Then I going to get me a library card so I can read me lots of books."
    The three great-aunts smiled, sighed, and rocked, looking at each other meaningfully, looking at Charles.
    "There is a whole world of books waiting for you, Charles," said Great-aunt Caroline in her lilac voice. "What an exciting time you will have when you learn to read."
    "Yes ma'am. I going to read me adventure stories."
    They beamed.
    "Florence. Philippa. Why don't we show Charles the
inclinator?
Why don't we give Charles a ride?"
    I stood up, and cupcake crumbs fell from my lap to the rug. "That's not
fair.
You don't let Jess and me ride on the inclinator."
    "Don't be rude, Elizabeth. Charles is a guest, and it is his birthday."
    They left me standing there, and took Charles by the hand, to the stairway, where the mechanical seat, operated by a small switch, moved slowly up and down the stairs in its track against the wall. I stood in the doorway to the parlor, against the thick velvet curtains, and watched, pouting, while they helped Charles onto the seat and showed him how to turn the switch. They giggled when his eyes widened as it moved.
    "Hold on tight, now, Charles!" called Great-aunt Florence as he began to move slowly up the stairs.
    He rose to the top of the long staircase, sitting straight, grinning, his sneakered feet neatly together, until I could see only his legs, then only his feet, then nothing at all from my place in the doorway. I could hear the soft whir of the inclinator and, along with it, my great-aunts' delighted soft laughter.
    "I be way at the top of the world!" called Charles from the dim beige place at the top of the stairs.
    "'Way at the top of the world'" repeated one of the great-aunts to the two others. They fluttered together like sparrows, looking upward, their papery faces pink with excitement.
    "Here he comes, now!" called Great-aunt Caroline. And Charles whirred back down, his shoulders straight, his smile proud, his hand lightly on the switch, making the inclinator move.
    When he dismounted, he bowed theatrically to my great-aunts, and they giggled in breathy spasms.
    "We have to go now," I said, glumly.
    We said our good-byes at the back door: or they did. I was silent. Charles shook hands gravely with each of the three sisters, who bobbed and tittered.
    "Thank you very much," said Charles. "Your iced tea be very good, but sometimes it make it better if you put some mint leaf in it."
    "My goodness," exclaimed Great-aunt Caroline. "I
did
forget the mint! Aren't you a nice boy, Charles, to
remind me of that. When you come back, we shall surely have mint in our tea!"
    We walked back to Grandfather's house silently through the dusty alley, kicking stones.
    At the gate to Grandfather's yard, I turned to Charles and looked him straight in the eye.
    "Happy birthday," I said, "nigger."
    Charles grinned.

11
    T HOUGH A UGUST, as Great-aunt Caroline had said, seemed to be the hottest month of the summer, the nights began to be cool. The summer slipcovers were still on the parlor furniture the rainy August night that Grandfather said, after the evening news, "I believe it's a good night for a fire."
    I shivered. I remembered Grandfather's fires from winter, and there was a magic to them. There was the placement of the birch logs. The careful rolling of newspaper. The lighting, with a special long match.
I was not allowed to do any of that, only to watch Grandfather. Later, when the fire was dying, I would be permitted to throw in one of the pine cones that were kept in a special basket. But that would be after Grandfather's magic.
    "May I hold Gordon?" I asked Mama. "I want to show him the fire." She placed the baby in my arms as I sat on the rug in front of the fireplace.
    Gordon had become less boring.