We were packed like sardines in Robin’s tiny hospital room. Mama and Grandpa sat in chairs on either side of her bed, while Dad and I leaned against the wall beside the door.

“Maybe I should train Sarah to be a race car driver,” Grandpa said. “With her drivin’ and my expert instruction, she could give ol’ Richard Petty a run for his money.”

“If you’re gonna train Sarah to be a race car driver,” Dad joked, “you’d better buy a faster truck.”

Dad and Grandpa were being silly. Guess we all needed some relief from accidents and hospitals.

“I better go check on Maybelle,” Grandpa said. “I have a notion that woman is being a terrible patient. Soon as they turn their backs, she’ll be runnin’ the hospital kitchen.”

“Sarah, you’re a hero,” Robin said, “like Marshal Dillon.”

I looked down at my sneakers. A hero would tell the truth, but the longer I waited, the harder it was to come clean.

“I’m thirsty,” Robin said.

I noticed the cot pushed against the window. “Is this where you sleep?” I asked Mama.

Mama poured some water for Robin and put a straw into the glass. “Yes, we’ve never left her alone. The hospital has been very good about that.”

I stretched and yawned. “Could I take a nap?”

Mama nodded her okay, and pretty soon I was fast asleep.

I dreamed of Robin in a leg brace and built-up shoes. Mean kids were pointing and laughing. When I jerked awake, her bed was empty. I threw the covers off and sat up. “Where is Robin?”

“Sssh,” Mama said. “Calm down. She’s gone to physical therapy.”

All the breath left my body in a big whoosh. “How’s Granny?”

Mama got up from her chair and hugged me. “Relax. Granny’s fine.” She patted my back. “I’m very proud of you. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” I blinked back tears. Even saving Granny wasn’t enough to make up for Robin’s accident. Nothing was.

Mama reached into her pocket for a comb and dragged it through my tangled hair. “You have a guest in the waiting room,” she said.

“Me? Who would come to see me here?”

“Ruby Lee,” Mama answered.

I stood in the waiting room doorway, staring at Ruby. I wasn’t sure what she wanted or why she was here. I was afraid to hope for something good.

Ruby stared back.

I outlasted her in the staring contest, and Ruby finally trudged over. “You need to listen up, because I’m not much good at apologizing. I’m sorry about everything. About telling your secret, about the mean things I said, and how I acted at the ice-cream social. I’ve been ashamed of myself all summer.”

“Me too. I shouldn’t have called you that awful word. When I saw it scratched on Mrs. Smyre’s car, it hurt so much I could barely breathe.”

“I know. That’s how it was for me too.” Ruby looked into my eyes. “When it’s just you and me, it’s easy to be friends. But at school, I’m not sure how to go about it. We’re like two mismatched socks.”

I gave Ruby’s hand a quick squeeze. Two men about Grandpa’s age saw me touch her and frowned. I figured the best thing to do was ignore them. Ruby was right about two socks, one brown and one white. I wasn’t sure how to handle school either, but I wanted to try. “Maybe Mrs. Smyre could help us with being friends at school. Mrs. Brown in the library gave me the idea.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Ruby said. “Maybe she could.” Ruby smiled, and I could tell we were back to normal, or at least as close to normal as we could be, with school integration looming. “How’s Miss Maybelle doing?” she asked.

“Pretty good. They stitched her up and gave her a pint of blood. How’d you find out about Granny’s accident, anyway?”

“My uncle Clarence saw you drive through town. He followed and watched them bring Miss Maybelle in on a stretcher. My granny’s visiting with yours right now. We came to help.”

I thought about the blood and flour all over the kitchen floor. Miss Irene would make short work of that.

Ruby and I walked over and sat by the windows. We were quiet for a few minutes, but then Ruby turned her mischievous smile on me. “Enough of this serious talk. I’ve got a newsflash for you.”

“What’s that?”

“You know the other night when Drucker tried to talk to you?”

“Yeah.”

“He was fixing to ask you to the Harvest Moon.”

“The school dance? No way!”

Ruby nodded. “He sure enough was.”

I squinted and eyed Ruby suspiciously. “How do you know?”

“Because Curtis told me.”

“Curtis is one of your friends from church, right?”

Ruby laughed. “Curtis is my boyfriend, only he doesn’t know it yet! I’ve been telling him what to do his whole life. I already told him he’s taking me to the Harvest Moon.”

I felt my eyes bug out. “You did? What’d he say?”

“He called me Miss Bossy Britches. But then I put the evil eye on him, and he said, ‘Somebody has to take you so it might as well be me.’ ”

I shook my head. Leave it to Ruby to make her own luck. “Okay, ‘Miss Bossy Britches,’ how does Curtis know Drucker was gonna ask me?”

“Well, it’s like this: The boys on the football team have been practicing together for about a month now. It’s taking a while, but they’re finally becoming friends. Drucker told Curtis at practice how he was gonna ask you, but when you ran off, ol’ Drucker lost his nerve.”

“Ah, Ruby! I want to go with Drucker, and now I’ve really messed up.”

“Don’t you worry,” she said. “I can fix it. I’ll have a talk with Curtis and tell him you’ll say yes. Then Curtis will talk to Drucker, and before you know it, you’ll have a date for the dance.”

I loved the excitement in Ruby’s eyes. I hoped none of the grown-ups would get all worked up about integration and ruin our first school dance.

When I opened the door to Robin’s hospital room, Mama looked up from her sewing. “Did you have a nice visit with Ruby Lee?”

“Yeah, it was good.” I didn’t tell Mama how Ruby and me were gonna be school friends. I didn’t want to hear about the fine line. Just for today, I wanted to be happy that Ruby was my best friend again.

Mama put her sewing down and stretched her arms over her head. “My fingers could use a break. Let’s take a peek at Robin’s physical therapy.”

We walked past the nurses’ station to a group of elevators. I hated the way the hospital smelled. It reminded me of the alcohol nurses used to swab my arm, just before a shot.

Mama nodded and smiled to several people on the elevator and on the physical therapy floor. We passed by people in wheelchairs and others pushing IV poles. Mama stopped before a door midway down the hall. A sign beside it said P.T. Mama opened the door just wide enough for me to look inside.

Robin held on to two parallel bars. A woman in a white uniform stood ready to catch her if she fell. Robin hopped on her left leg, with her right leg bent at the knee.

“The doctors are trying to get her strong enough to use crutches,” Mama said.

Robin didn’t look up. She used all her concentration on the bars.

Mama strained forward, as if she were trying to help Robin move along. “Physical therapy is hard work,” she said. “Robin is exhausted when her session’s over.”

Every muscle in Robin’s body looked rigid. Her teeth were clenched.

“She’s the one who is brave,” I said.

Mama peeked over my shoulder. “Robin is scared and brave at the same time. She’s scared because she can’t walk yet, but she’s brave enough to work hard so someday she’ll be able to.”

I finally understood. Courage is doing hard things when you’re most afraid, like saying you’re sorry, or being friends with a colored girl. I kept watching Robin struggle, and thought how lucky I was to still have a little sister. All that love filled my chest, rising like a perfect pan of biscuits.

Robin looked up and saw us peeking in the door. She stuck her tongue out and made a funny face.

I laughed and made one right back. I thought of what Ruby had said. “I’m not much good at apologizing.” I wasn’t much good at it either, but I owed my sister a big one.

In Robin’s hospital room, Gunsmoke played on the television suspended from the ceiling.

“Sarah, stop pacing,” Mama said.

I forced myself to sit down. I curled and uncurled my fists.

Robin watched the show as if she’d been hypnotized. When it came to an end, she looked sad. “What if I walk with a limp?” she asked. “Can I still be a cowgirl?”

Mama continued hemming a pair of pants. “In the very old episodes of Gunsmoke, there’s a character called Chester, and he walked with a limp.”

“That’s good to know,” Robin said. “Maybe I’ll walk like Chester.”

Mama finished hemming one leg and started on the other. “That’s right. You can still be a cowgirl whether you have a limp or not.”

I didn’t want Robin to have a limp. I just wanted my sister back exactly the way she used to be, but that was impossible. It was like Ruby said: “Some stuff can’t be fixed.”

Dad stuck his head in the door of Robin’s room. “I’m going to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee.” He looked over at Mama. “Can I bring you back one?”

“No!” I said. “Please don’t go for coffee. I have something important to tell you, and it can’t wait.”

Mama stopped sewing and folded the pants in her lap.

Dad frowned, and his eyebrows drew close together. He walked in and closed the door. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Just let me think for a minute.” I started pacing again, then stopped and closed my eyes. I decided the best way was to get it over with. To jump right in like at the town pool when the water was too cold. I mustered up all my courage. “Robin’s accident was my fault,” I blurted out.

Mama shook her head. “No, don’t be silly. Absolutely not.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “This is so hard. Please, please don’t interrupt. Just let me finish.”

Mama and Dad stared at each other. Both of them nodded for me to go ahead.

“On the day of the accident, I was reading a library book. When I looked up, Robin was gone. If I had paid more attention, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

Mama’s eyes were brimming with tears.

Dad stared at the floor.

Robin’s mouth flew open in surprise.

Nobody said a single word.

I spun around and jerked open the door.

“Wait!” Robin called.

I ignored her and rushed down the hall.

“Sarah, stop!” Dad yelled.

His footsteps thundered behind me. I raced by the nurses’ station.

The woman at the desk called, “No running in the halls, please.”

I passed by doctors and patients roaming the hall. Tears blinded me as I turned a corner to the right.

Dad’s footsteps sounded closer.

I picked up speed, but he was gaining on me.

Closer, closer, closer.

My shirt stretched taut as he grabbed it from behind.

Dad turned me around to face him. “Sweet pea, you can’t run away from your problems. You’ve got to face ’em head-on.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for Robin to get hurt.”

Dad pulled me into his arms. “Sssh,” he said. He patted my back just like I was a baby. I cried against his chest until his shirt was sopping wet. Sorrow was overwhelming me, like in Ruby’s song.

When my sobs turned to sniffles, Dad wiped my face with his handkerchief. “Come with me. It’s high time we settled this.”

I trudged beside Dad back to Robin’s room. I hoped my parents would still love me as much as before, and Granny and Grandpa too. I hoped Robin could forgive me.

Dad opened the door and gave me a gentle push into the room.

Mama looked up, with tears shining on her cheeks. “Sarah, it was an accident. We’ve never blamed you.”

“B-b-b-but, I blame myself.”

Robin scooted over to make room for me. “Sit here,” she said.

I sat on the edge of the bed and took Robin’s hand. I looked down, too ashamed to meet her eyes. “I’m—I’m so sorry. I’ve been trying to make it up to you all summer, but I can’t find a way.”

Robin’s chubby hand reached out and wiped the tears off my face. “I ran away on purpose.”

“What?”

Dad moved closer to Robin. “Why?” he asked. “Why would you do such a thing?”

Robin squirmed and pulled on one of her curls. “Cause of Scruffy. He was outside at Cathy’s, and I wanted to play with him.” She quit messing with her hair and shook her finger at me. “Sarah always tells me NO. She says, ‘Wait until Mama gets home.’ I ran away when she wasn’t looking.”

Robin had raced full speed ahead without checking for danger, but that was no excuse. I shouldn’t have been reading. I had known better than that.

“We make rules to keep you safe,” Dad said. “I need you to promise that you won’t ever run away again.” He didn’t quit staring until Robin promised.

Mama stood up and put her hand on my shoulder. “Sarah, the police report says the driver was going too fast for a residential neighborhood. If you insist on placing blame, there’s plenty of it to go around.”

Inside my head, the screaming siren played over and over like a scratched record. Maybe someday my flashbacks would fade. I hoped so.

“That young man made a terrible mistake,” Mama said, “but it won’t do any good to look back.” She reached for a Kleenex from Robin’s bedside table and wiped her eyes. “There are a lot of what-ifs here. If only I hadn’t been working in the garden. If only Sarah hadn’t been reading. If only Cathy hadn’t let Scruffy out of the house. Let’s put all the what-ifs behind us.”

I wanted to. I wanted to feel as shiny inside as a new penny.

Mama moved between Robin and me. She took each of us by the hand. Dad grabbed my other hand and Robin’s too.

“Sarah, look at me,” Mama said. “The accident is in the past. What’s important now?”

I needed to get this right. I remembered the rest of Ruby’s song.

Sorrow’s overwhelmin’ me

Lord, show me how to set it free.

I needed a gift from my family. I squeezed Mama and Dad’s hands, but looked straight into Robin’s eyes. “Forgiveness,” I whispered. “Forgiveness is what matters now.”