7
“T
he gang’s all here,” I said as we perched again by the fireplace in our living room. I’m not even sure where that phrase comes from except that it has that tint of cliché that makes it comforting.
Isaiah quickly told them what Micah had told us, and I shared Darren Tindall’s warning and told them about him watching us from his car when we left. Mom shot Isaiah a quick look, and I saw him squeeze her knee. They were worried, too.
Mr. Meade sat forward from his seat on the couch and said, “It’s still early enough in the semester that I can get another research group started.”
I started to say that I’d be happy to take folks to the library and show them how to use a microfilm machine when Mom spoke.
“I don’t know, Tom. Do we want the kids . . .” she glanced at Marcie and me by the
