Free Boys Rock! by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

oldest Hatford boys in unison.
    “What’s wrong? I wasn’t going to wake you up andask which ones I should give her. But I just wondered which of those two pictures of Wally he liked best. I guessed the birthday cake, so that’s what I gave her.”
    “She
tricked
us!” Josh yelled. “We told her she couldn’t have any!”
    “Well, how would I know that?” said his mother. “Good heavens, don’t make a federal case of it. Are you and those girls fighting again? I thought you were over that by now.”
    “It’s Eddie who’s bossing us around!” said Jake. “She had no right to ask you for our pictures, and you shouldn’t have given them to her without asking us.”
    Mrs. Hatford sighed and lowered her head. “Do you see these gray hairs?” she asked, pointing. “Do you know what’s causing them?”
    “Dandruff?” asked Peter.
    “Boys!” said their mother. “Four boys who are driving me right out of my mind.”

    At three o’clock that afternoon, the four boys marched across the swinging bridge, up the hill to the Malloys’, past the house, and on down their driveway to the road out front. Then, between the Malloys’ mailbox and the lilac bush, they marched back and forth, back and forth, holding hand-lettered signs in black ink with a different message on each:
    Jake held a sign that read EDDIE MALLOY, DICTATOR.
    Josh’s sign read INVASION OF PRIVACY.
    Wallys read DOWN WITH TYRANNY!
    And P eters: WE WANT JUSTICE!
    They saw Eddie, Beth, and Caroline come out on their front steps and stare at them. The UPS truck was coming down the road. It started to turn up the Mal-loys’ drive to deliver a package, then kept going instead. Every car passing the house slowed down so that the driver could read the signs.
    Half an hour later, just when Wally felt that he and his brothers were getting the hang of it, a dark green Chevy came into view and began to slow. Then it slowed even more and came to a stop.
    Wally couldn’t make out who was driving, but he saw the man roll his window down. Then Coach Mal-loy leaned out the window and said, “Hey, fellas, do you think I could go up my own driveway?”

Fourteen

A Roundtable Discussion
    D ad! Dad’s home!” Caroline shrieked, jumping off the porch and running down the drive to meet her father.
    Mr. Malloy got out of the car as his wife and daughters gathered around him.
    “George!” Caroline’s mother said, giving him a hug. “We didn’t know you would be coming home!”
    “Thought I’d surprise you and drive back for a few days. We’re still negotiating that contract,” Coach Malloy said. He motioned toward the end of the driveway. “Quite a welcoming committee out there, I must say”
    “I can’t tell what in the world is going on,” Mrs. Malloy said. “It’s all about the newspaper, I guess, and who is or who is not in charge. But the neighbors have been calling, wondering—”
    “I’m editor in chief, so
I’m
in charge,” Eddie declared. “It’s a labor dispute, that’s all.”
    “Well, I saw a ‘We Want Justice!’ sign down there,” said her father. “I saw a ‘Down with Tyranny!’ sign. Sounds pretty serious to me. Not exactly the kind of thing I want in front of my house after coaching a football team all year.”
    “Oh, nobody will take them seriously,” said Eddie.
    “I don’t care,” said Mr. Malloy, picking up his bag. “I want you to end this. Now.”
    “Dad!” cried Eddie, Beth, and Caroline together.
    “If I give in now, it will show I’ve lost control of the newspaper!” Eddie protested.
    “Well? What do you think that picket line tells you? Do the honorable thing, Eddie, and take a vote,” Mr. Malloy said. “And then those guys can go home.” He started for the house, and Mrs. Malloy followed.
    The girls looked at each other.
    “That’s suicide!” Beth said. “It’s four against three. You
know
how the boys will vote.”
    “I don’t care so much about using the baby pictures, though I still