Mama chose paint the color of sunshine for the walls in our house. Grandpa and Clarence did most of the painting. Ruby and I helped with the trim.

When we were all finished, Ruby placed a big pot of red geraniums near the front door. “Hard to be miserable in a house with yellow walls and pretty flowers,” she said. “Cheer up, Sarah.”

But that was easy for her to say. She wasn’t the one whose sister was hurt.

Grandpa was waiting in the truck to take Ruby and me into town. Mama and Dad had packed up most of the household stuff, but I wanted to pack the lavender library myself. Ruby was gonna help me.

I knew the route from Grandpa’s farm to our house in town by heart: Shady Creek Road onto Tucker, Main Street to North Maple Avenue, then left onto Walnut Circle. I gripped the seat’s edge with both hands. This would probably be the last time that I’d ever be inside my old room.

After Grandpa shifted into park, Ruby and I climbed out of the truck. While Grandpa went to unlock the front door, I studied the skid marks in the street. I could hear the brakes and smell the burning rubber. It seemed so real, like it was happening all over again.

“Sarah.” Ruby tugged on my arm. “Your grandpa’s waiting on us.”

I shivered, trying to shake off the bad memories. Maybe it was a good thing we were moving away from there.

Mama and Dad had been busy. The house was full of boxes, and the curtains were drawn. My life would never be the same. Not ever. I left Ruby and walked from room to room. Every part of the house brought back a good memory. I pictured Dad flipping buttermilk pancakes on Saturday mornings. “How many can you eat, Sarah Beth?” Robin’s rocking horse still sat in her bedroom. I touched his yarn mane, and then set the horse rocking with my foot. I saved the lavender library for last. I thought about Mama tucking me in at night. I moved across the floor to the bookshelves and ran my fingers over my novel collection. Laura Ingalls, Ramona Quimby, Jo, Beth, Meg, and Amy. Some of my best friends were in these books.

When I turned around, Ruby was watching me from the hallway. She walked in and stood beside me. “You know what Ma Rene always tells me when I’m sad about my mama moving to Chicago?”

“No.”

“She says, ‘I can’t stop it from hurting, Ruby Lee, but I’m right here. Hold on to me.’ ”

I reached for Ruby’s hand. I hadn’t done that in a long time. I stood still as pond water and remembered all the times Ruby and I had played together on the farm: climbing trees, wading in the creek, swinging on the old tire swing. I hoped she would always be my friend, that integration wouldn’t mess that up. “Do you think we can be friends at school?” I asked.

Ruby’s brown eyes looked old and sad. “No,” she said, “not at school. Things are bound to change between us. We’ll probably end up just like our grannies, only working together.”

“But our grannies are friends.”

Ruby shook her head. “No, they’re not. My granny does whatever yours says. Real friends are equals.”

I knew Ruby was just being honest, but lots of people were trying to change things. I’d seen it on the evening news. “When school starts back, maybe we should try and be friends. You know, be brave, like the Freedom Riders you told me about.”

“We’re not old enough to change things,” Ruby said. But then a big smile spread across her face. “Maybe we could be friends at school. Wouldn’t that be something? Maybe I’m not dreaming big enough.”

While I was helping Granny wash up the supper dishes, Miss Irene yelled through the screen door. “Miss Maybelle, Miss Maybelle, you at home?”

“No peace around here,” Granny said. “Wonder what’s got Miss Irene so riled up?” Granny dried her hands on a dishtowel and went to answer the door.

Miss Irene and Ruby Lee followed her into the kitchen. “Have a seat,” Granny said. “How about some sweet tea?”

Miss Irene shook her head no. “This ain’t no social call. Sarah Beth is filling Ruby’s head full of grand ideas.”

“What?” I knew better than to interrupt a grown-up, but I couldn’t keep quiet. “Ruby, what did I do?”

Ruby rubbed the back of her neck. “I told her we want to be friends at school. That we’re gonna be brave like the Freedom Riders.”

“Heaven help us,” Granny said. She sat down at the table. “I don’t think you girls know what you’re saying.”

Miss Irene sat down across from Granny. “Praise Jesus,” she said. “Maybelle, I need you to help me set these girls straight. I done lost Ruby’s daddy. My nerves can’t take no more upset.”

Granny took off her glasses and polished them on her apron, a sure sign she was thinking hard. “Sarah, are you ready to be called bad names? How you gonna feel when Betsy Carter doesn’t invite you to her birthday party? Or when you’re not welcome at the lunch table?”

“But—”

Miss Irene held up her hand and cut me off. “Now it’s my turn. Ruby Lee, you better mind your place. The colored children will call you uppity, and the white children will treat you like something bad they stepped in.” Miss Irene looked at me. “Sarah Beth, you have a good heart, but if you can’t even tell about the accident, where you gon’ find the courage to stand up for Ruby Lee?”

Ruby gasped and her eyes got big and wide. She’d done broke our pinky swear and told Miss Irene my secret. It was written on her face plain as day.

I shook like Mr. Fletcher when he has one of his fits.

“That’s enough!” Granny said. “Look at how Sarah’s trembling.”

Ruby ran out the back door, and Miss Irene smoothed her housedress over her knees. “I didn’t mean to hurt nobody’s feelings,” she said. “I was just remembering how you told me Sarah wouldn’t talk about the accident. That’s all.”

Granny leaned in close to Miss Irene. “I know you’re afraid for your granddaughter, but I won’t have you upsetting mine. You hear?”

Granny’s voice was stern, and Miss Irene hung her head. She needed the milk and eggs from our farm. That was a powerful hold to have on somebody.

“I didn’t mean no harm,” she said.

I hung my head just like Miss Irene. I had never heard my granny use that tone of voice before, and I knew I was the cause of it. She was trying to protect me from my own wrongdoings.