Read The Lions of Little Rock for Free Online

syrup. She stirs, adds enough water to fill the pitcher to the top, and stirs again.
    Betty Jean was just getting ready to put it into the fridge when she realized I was watching her. “Oh, Marlee, I didn’t see you,” she said. “Would you like a glass of tea?”
    What I really wanted was for my sister to come down and talk to me, but she was up in
her
new room, even though I knew she’d heard the front door open when I came in. But I didn’t want to sit in my room alone, and I guess I was a little thirsty, so I nodded.
    I sat down at the table while Betty Jean filled a tall glass with ice and poured in the tea. “Do you mind if I sit down for a minute?” she asked as she put the tea down in front of me. “The heat makes my ankles swell.”
    Of course I didn’t mind. Betty Jean was a hard worker. All the clothes were folded and put away, dinner was cooking in the oven, and the living room floor was so clean, I’d be willing to eat off it. I was embarrassed she’d even asked me—like I was her boss or something—and gestured for her to go ahead.
    Betty Jean pulled out a chair and sat down. It was hot, and she used the flowered apron to wipe the sweat from her face. I wondered why she didn’t pour herself a glass of tea, then remembered that there seemed to be an unspoken rule that she could cook our food but never taste it. Kind of like the one about girls and math and satellites.
    It made me mad, thinking about that, and before I knew it, I had jumped up and poured another glass of tea. Betty Jean looked surprised when I held it out to her, but she took it. “Thank you, Marlee.” She drank half the glass in one long gulp, then wiped her mouth daintily and said, “Did you have a nice day at school?”
    â€œI’m doing a presentation in history,” I said, then sat down, embarrassed. I’d never spoken to her before.
    â€œGood for you,” said Betty Jean.
    I counted prime numbers in my head until I realized she wasn’t going to ask me anything else. We sat like that for a long time. Silent. But not bad silent. Just quiet. When I was done with my tea, I snuck a look at Betty Jean.
    She was about my mother’s age, with big brown eyes and high cheekbones. Her skin was dark and smooth, and at her temples was just a bit of gray. She was staring off into the distance, thinking of something else. But when she felt my gaze on her face, she looked over at me and smiled.
    I smiled back. Turns out, Betty Jean wasn’t just plain water after all. She had a twist of lime that was all her own.
    After dinner, I sat in bed, trying to figure out what to do about JT and his homework. Sure, he always thanked me or told me I was a nice girl, but I’d expected more. He never brought me candy or asked me to the movies or did any of the things a boyfriend was supposed to do. Then again, he wasn’t really my boyfriend. I was pretty sure you had to talk to have one of those.
    Also, I didn’t suppose those Soviet scientists who had sent up Sputnik had gotten where they were by cheating. If I wanted to work on a top-secret space project someday, I couldn’t have any blemishes on my record. Not to mention that I knew cheating was just plain wrong.
    But every time I resolved to hand JT a blank piece of paper, I wondered if this would be the day he came to his senses and asked me out.
    I had decided to give him just a little more time, when there was a knock at the door. Without waiting for me to answer, Judy poked her head into the room. “You got a minute?”
    I nodded.
    Judy held up a covered bird’s cage. “I heard Daddy say he hasn’t had much time for Pretty Boy lately.” That was Daddy’s pet parakeet. He usually kept him in the living room.
    I kept my eyes on the parakeet. I was still too angry to look at Judy. Too worried that if I started talking, I might say something I couldn’t take