Forged by Fire by Sharon M. Draper

liked it. He’d never had a father around to call him that. “Thanks, Mr. Washington. I’m gonna do my best.”
    â€œI’ll be there at the games, you know. Let me know if you ever need a ride.”
    â€œThanks, man.” Rob’s dad never asked directly how things were with Gerald and Angel, but he called every few months, talking of school or baseball or the weather—letting Gerald know that he was around, just in case. Gerald never told him, but those calls meant so very much. Every year at Christmas, Mr. Washington always made sure that Angel and Gerald had something special under their tree. One year, he even provided the tree as well.
    Often after basketball practice, Rob and his dad gave Gerald a ride home so that he wouldn’t have to take thebus. Rob, with his natural grace and ability, was already talking of college scholarships and NBA contracts. He treated everybody as if they were his best friend, but he generally hung with Andy and Gerald and a couple of other guys from the team—Tyrone and B. J.
    The basketball season had started well—they had won their first couple of games. Gerald actually looked forward to school, and even though most seventeen-year-olds would rather gag than admit they like their little sister, he let Angel tag along when she wanted, and looked forward to her cheerful smile to warm the chilly evenings at home after school.
    Gerald and Angel stood at the kitchen sink together, the sunlight of a November day filtering weakly through the small window. She was washing; he was drying. The silences between them were pleasant and understood. Angel spoke first.
    â€œWhen is Mama comin’ home?”
    â€œIt’s always hard to tell. If she got that new job, she might be real late.”
    â€œDo you think she’ll let me take that dance class?”
    â€œIf she got the job, she’ll be in a good mood. Ask her then.”
    â€œGerald, you got basketball and sports and stuff. I got nothin’ but the music inside of me. I want to dance!”
    â€œHey, the man at the chicken place around the corner said he’d let me wash dishes after school. I could get paid for what I’m doin’ here!” he said, laughing. “Then you could take the dance class.”
    â€œNaw, Gerald, you stay on the team. You can’t quit basketball. I think you like runnin’ around in your underwear!” she replied. Gerald grinned and flicked soapy water at her. She squealed and giggled, dipped her hands in the sink, and shook her drippy fingers at his face. Gerald laughed, ducked, and just as he was chasing Angel around the kitchen with a full glass of water, Monique breezed inside with a burst of winter air.
    â€œOoh!” she exclaimed. “It’s a freezer out there! How’s my babies? And what’s this water doin’ all over the floor?”
    Monique had not changed much in the past few years. She was still very pretty, with a tiny waist that looked good in the gold belts and shiny sashes she liked to wear. She took great pride in her hair, changing its style and color to fit her mood. Today it was a rusty blond, with a matching ponytail woven into it. Accented by bright gold earrings, her black dress and two-tone fingernails made her look much younger than she was. She looked great today—and she was smiling.
    Gerald looked up at her, but his good mood was gone. He didn’t like it when Monique came in smiling. He knew that Monique had probably gotten the job, which meant that she would go out tonight to “celebrate.” He was proud of her that she had not returned to the drugs, but she had developed a taste for whiskey and was finding more and more excuses to go out and drink with her friends.
    â€œDid you get the job, Mama?” asked Angel.
    â€œYes, baby, I did!” Monique glowed with pleasure. “I’ll be answering telephones at the YMCA every day from nine to five. Aren’t