(pg. 4) "Let's get out of here," I said. Stick grinned. "That's my boy," he said, thumping my shoulder. Stick liked to shake things up. I always followed the rules and did what I was supposed to.
GET OFF ME YOU NIGRO!
(pg. 4) "What the hell?" he shouted. He tore out of my grip and rushed forward. A group of white men aremed with bats, bottles, and sticks were beating on people at the edge of the crowd.
WE NEED TO GET YOU TO A HOSPITAL!
(pg.5) Stick burst forward and grabbed one of the white men, pulling him off a gray-haired woman who dropped, crying, to the ground. The man slammed an elbow into Stick's bony chest.
(pg.5) His head snapped up. In that split second, the man fighting him bent down and seized the neck of a broken bottle from the ground. "No!" I cried. The man swung and the bottle connected with Stick's temple.
(pg.5) I grabbed Stick's shoulders.His forehead was bleeding, but he sat up and took my hand. "We've got to get out of here," I said as the cops drew closer.
(pg.11) "Where's your brother?" he asked, looking at me in the eyes. I was in trouble. "They took him in there," I stammered, and pointed to the room where Stick was. Father nodded.