The Rock and the River Read Online Free PDF

“Get in the closet. In the closet—now,” he whispered. Bucky did, easing the door shut behind him as Stick and I assumed studious postures on our beds.
    Father knocked and opened the door. “Everything all right?” he asked, surveying the room.
    â€œWe’re fine,” Stick said. He had long since perfected the innocent look. I, on the other hand, kept my head bowed over my history textbook. My inability to bluff had cost us smaller battles than this one.
    â€œWe heard a noise.” Father went to the window and peered out, his jaw tense. “Did you hear it?”
    â€œI, uh, threw a book at Sam,” Stick said, sounding appropriately guilty but contrite. I didn’t know how he managed it. “It was kinda loud when it fell, I guess.”
    â€œIt kinda hurt, too,” I mumbled, trying to do my part.
    Father moved back to the doorway, resting his hand on the knob. “Well, some of the men stepped out to walk around the house, just in case.”
    That gave me chills. One time, someone had thrown a brick through our bedroom window in the middle of the night, and the living room windows, too. Anything that could happen to me and Stick, or to Father alone, could happen ten times over with Dr. King around.
    I lowered my head again, suppressing the urge to tell Father that it was only Bucky. I’d tell him anything to smooth the worried crease from his brow. Father looked at each of us again, then closed the door.
    Stick opened the closet door to release Bucky, who put on a mock pout. “You really know how to make a guy feel welcome. What was that about?” The silly expression morphed into genuine uncertainty. “I thought your father didn’t mind me coming over. Is it cool, for real?”
    Stick shook his head. “Yeah, but not now. We have special company tonight. Dr. King and some other folks.”
    â€œNo kidding?” Bucky looked at me and smiled, exposing the prominent front teeth that had earnedhim his nickname. His real name was Clarence.
    â€œSure thing,” I said. “We had dinner, and now they’re meeting with Father.”
    â€œI can’t believe he’s in your house, man.” Bucky shook his head. “Dr. King himself.”
    â€œHe’s supposed to be here. You’re not.” Stick jerked his head toward the window.
    Bucky put his coat back on, then sighed. “I got nowhere for tonight, brother.”
    â€œYou can come back later, when they’re gone.”
    â€œYou ain’t gonna introduce me?” Bucky grinned, smoothing down his collar like he was prepping for a date.
    â€œGet out,” Stick said, not in a mean way. We didn’t really want to send Bucky away, but we didn’t want to get in trouble in front of Dr. King and everyone either.
    â€œSending me out into the cold,” Bucky said with a sniff. “I understand. I do.” He conjured up his best, most pathetic wounded-animal eyes.
    Stick groaned and rolled back against his pillow. “Stay. But keep your big mouth shut.”
    Bucky’s wide grin was like money falling from the sky—free, but you felt like you’d earned it.
    â€œYou ain’t never heard a mouse as quiet as me.” He shrugged out of his coat and resettled himself on the floor between our beds. “Yes, sir. You won’t even know I’m here.Not a whisper. Not a breath. Quiet like nothing. Quieter.”
    Stick pulled the pillow from under his head and chucked it to the floor. Bucky took it in the chin and shoulder. We all laughed.
    â€œShut up and read something, man. Under the bed.” Stick motioned with his foot toward the scattering of books and magazines beneath his bed. Stick’s half of the room was crowded with reading material; he read just about everything in sight.
    Bucky nodded but reached for his own bag instead. “I brought something of my own to read.”
    Stick sat up. “Yeah?”
    I turned