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
“A great story about a troubled young girl with a highly developed sense of justice struggling to make sense of her place in the south of the 1960s and the secrecy surrounding her mother.”
Amazon Reader
“Read this over vacation and loved it! Felt bad for my husband as he drove in silence because I just could not put it down.”
Amazon Reader
“Read in 1 day. I have never read a book by this author, have to say I am very happy! This a suspenseful and insightful about the 1960’s. Highly recommend!”
Amazon Reader