Gerald no longer felt fear or pain, only anger over the past—for Aunt Queen’s lost hugs and Angel’s lost innocence, for Monique’s dim weaknesses, Andy’s unbearable guilt, and for Rob’s fiery destruction. All of that was focused into his final lunge at Jordan. He reached for Jordan’s leg and pulled hard.
Jordan stumbled, then fell with a crashing thud to the floor. Stunned only for a moment, he got up, glared at Gerald, saw the growing intensity of the fire, and moved toward the open door. He never even glanced back at Angel, who was conscious and crying.
Gerald struggled to stand as he heard Angel sobbing faintly. He pulled himself up to the bed. Angel, almost hysterical, was sucking in huge gulps of the smoke-filled air. As he reached her, she shuddered, and then lay still.
“Angel!” he yelled. Ignoring the pain in his leg and head, he covered her with a blanket and lifted her gently from the bed. She felt light in his arms—like a spirit, he thought as he shivered in spite of the heat. He could no longer see. He limped through the darkness and smoke, toward the open door.
The room began to spin as the darkness and the flames attacked Gerald. He wanted to hide behind the sofa. He wanted to let the flames take away all the pain forever, but he remembered Angel, and dragged himself toward the door, which seemed so far away. As he approached the doorway, he could no longer remember which way to go. Dark, thick smoke filled the top of the opening. Gerald coughed and stumbled. A large, hard object blocked the doorway. Gerald fell over it and rolled out of the door into the hall. In spite of his confusion and pain, he still managed to hang on to Angel. On the floor, he discovered the air was just a bit clearer. Gerald wiped his stinging eyes and saw that the stairs were smoky, but not yet on fire. Staying close to the floor, he snaked himself down the first flight of stairs, gently dragging the limp, unconscious body of Angel with him. He stopped at the landing, gasping and heaving, barely able to breathe the thin, clear air near the floor.
He heard thuds. He saw large black rubber boots. He heard voices.
“Hey! Get some oxygen up here! We found them!”
He heard clicks. He had heard that sound before . . . the click of a high heel shoe on a wooden step . . . going away . . . fading into the distance. But these clicks were close, then closer. They were hard and demanding and attached to a voice. Monique’s.
“I told you my kids was in here! Hurry up!” she demanded shrilly. “Do something! I think they’re dead! Where’s Jordan?” Monique screamed hysterically.
“Ma’am, let us do our job. We told you not to follow. Max, get her out of here!”
Gerald grinned weakly just before he passed out. Monique. Just in time this time. Just in time.
TWENTY-FOUR
ANGEL’S EYELIDS FLUTTERED, then her eyes rolled in fear as she thrashed her arms wildly, pulling off the oxygen mask and screaming in terror. The paramedic held her arms gently and spoke softly. “It’s gonna be okay. Relax. You swallowed quite a bit of smoke up there.”
“Jordan! No! Fire!” she whispered incoherently. “Oh, Gerald, make it stop! Make it stop! Where’s Gerald?” she asked with sudden fear.
“He’s right here, right next to you. He saved your life, you know.”
Angel relaxed when she saw him. Gerald, with large bandages on his head and his leg, and an oxygen mask on his face, grinned at her.
“You look like something out of a monster movie,” she croaked. Her voice was raspy from the smoke. “What happened, Gerald?”
“I’m not sure,” Gerald said slowly. “I remember carrying you, and falling, and . . . Monique. Monique’s shoes on the steps,” he said, remembering.
Monique peeked her head into the back of the ambulance then. “How’s my babies?”
“Ain’t no babies here, Mama,” Angel whispered with a weak smile. “I think we gonna be okay.”
Gerald frowned. “Monique, where’s Jordan? He left us there to die in the fire. He had Angel... He was trying to ... to ... He tried to kill me!”
Monique’s smile faded.
The paramedic and a police officer looked into the back of the ambulance. “Do you feel up to talking, son?”
Gerald nodded. At the word “son” he thought of Rob’s dad. He knew Mr. Washington was only a phone call away. That made him feel better—relaxed and safe.
“There was another man in the apartment,” the police officer said. “Was he a relative?”
“He’s no relation of mine!” growled Gerald with hatred in his voice. “His name is Jordan Sparks. He claims to be Angel’s father, but he’s mean and hateful and he’s a child molester! There! I said it, Monique! He tried to molest Angel and he’s—”
“He’s dead,” the police officer cut in.
“Dead?”
“He died trying to get out of the apartment.”
Gerald thought back to the haze and confusion of the fire. He remembered stumbling and falling over something—or was it someone? “Where did you find him?”
“He was lying right by the door,” the officer said. “We think he slipped—he had on new boots with slick soles—”
And steel toes, Gerald thought.
“—and he must have fallen trying to run out of the apartment.”
“Running out on you,” Monique admitted slowly.
“I think,” Gerald said slowly, “that Jordan is the reason we’re still alive. I fell over his body on the way out of the door. That put us on the floor, where the air was breathable, and let me find the steps.”
“And let us find you,” the firefighter added.
Monique began to weep. She wept not for Jordan, whose spark was finally snuffed out, but for all of the flames of pain and hatred he had caused.
“May I ride with them?” she asked the paramedic when she could speak again.
He nodded. “Maybe you should ask them,” he added, pointing to Gerald and Angel.
Angel, whose face was covered with tears, held out her arms to her mother. Gerald, relieved that they were alive and Jordan was not, smiled and nodded.
As Monique climbed into the back of the ambulance, an orange ball of fur leaped in front of her.
“Tiger!” Angel smiled with relief. The cat snuggled close to her and glared at the paramedic, who just smiled and pretended not to see it. The sirens screamed as they rode to the hospital.
“How do you like the music I picked for our ride downtown?” Gerald teased Angel.
“It’s fine for the movie soundtrack, but I couldn’t dance to it.” She smiled and drifted off to sleep.
With the flames and fear behind them, Gerald and Angel rode together to the music of the sirens which had decorated their past and would forge their future.
For readers who would like further information or who need help, the following numbers are provided as a place to start:
1-800422-4453
National Child Abuse Hotline
1-800-799-7233
National Domestic Violence Hotline
BOOKS BY SHARON M. DRAPER
Tears of a Tiger
Forged by Fire
Chapter One of Forged by Fire first appeared as a short story in Ebony Magazine, January 1991, under the title “One Small Torch.” It was the first prize, $5,000 winner in the 1990 Gertrude Williams Johnson Literary Contest.
Atheneum Books for Young Readers
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, New York 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
Text copyright © 1997 by Sharon M. Draper
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction
in whole or in part in any form.
Book design by Anne Scatto / PIXEL PRESS
The text of this book is set in Goudy Old Style.
Printed in the United States of America
14 16 18 20 19 17 15 13
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Draper, Sharon M. (Sharon Mills)
r />
Forged by fire / by Sharon M. Draper.—1st ed.
p. cm.
Companion volume to: Tears of a tiger.
Summary: Teenage Gerald, who has spent years protecting his fragile
half-sister from their abusive father, faces the prospect of one final
confrontation before the problem can be solved.
ISBN 0-689-80699-X
ISBN 978-0-6898-0699-5
eISBN 978-1-43913-206-7
[1. Child abuse—Fiction. 2. Stepfamilies—Fiction. 3. Brothers
and sisters—Fiction. 4. Afro-Americans—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.D78325Fo 1997
[Fic]—dc20
96-2763
Sharon M. Draper, Forged by Fire
(Series: # )
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