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
“I really enjoyed reading WHISTLING PAST THE GRAVEYARD. Susan Crandall has written a beautiful novel that immersed the reader in to the mind of a nine year old and life in the sixties!”
Amazon Reader
“What unravels is unsettling but Starla’s spirit and determination rock this book.”
Goodreads
“I think this is one of the best books I have read in a long time. The story line and characters will stay with me and I will reflect back on them when I need strength. Susan is a gifted storyteller not just a writer.”
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