My Grandmother said she prays for me every day. Which was funny, because I'd only ever heard Mamie pray, "Dear Lord, give me strength." That sure sounded like a prayer for herself...
No. No. I was nothin'. And I'd been bad. But I paid. Paid and paid before Wallace save me.
Our upstairs is hot as the hinges of Hades... I kinda hoped when Mamie got home late this afternoon, she'd find me passed out from heatstroke.
The colored don't choose to live here. It's where they're allowed to live.
I was horrible thirsty, but I didn't take it; Mamie had made it clear: no matter even if we're about to expire from thirstiness, we don't drink after negras.
Remeber when we was bakin', and what I say about overworked crust? You and me, we done pushed our luck 'bout as far as a body dare. We overworked crust.
Working Title
Whistling Past the GraveyardBook Snack?
Puffed corn snacks (Mike-Sells Puff Corn Delites, Natural White Chedder Cheetos, etc.) Many, many bags. I even rated them on my blog.Publisher: Gallery Books
Category: Fiction, Historical Fiction
Release Date: 01/01/1970
Format: Hardcover, Paperback, eBook
Pages: 320ISBN: 978-1476707723
Copyright © 2013 Susan Crandall
“Great setting in a south that is changing as America learns that work needs to be done to make life for all citizens what they want it to be.”
Bookseller, Cate's Books & Stuff
“[A] very sweet Southern story told from the prospective of a feisty red-headed 10 year old little girl. Heart wrenching in places with characters very well developed and great dialogue…”
Goodreads
“Right from the start, the book took a direction I was not expecting…”
Goodreads