CHAPTER ONETHE SUGAR ACT
TONIGHT WOULD BE INTERRUPTED. Rock couldn’t figurehow he knew, but he did.
Drip-plip, drip-plip, drip-plip;
waterpooled in the plastic bucket Rock’s mother had stuck on the landing between the two upstairs bedrooms. Rock listened to the drips— would the plinking rhythm lull him into sleep, or prevent it?He listened harder, for the soft brush of newspaper pagesturning in Cliff’s bedroom. His brother usually worked on his designslate at night, spread-eagling the real-estate section, drawing pad, andhimself underneath his bed, his body tensed for their father’s voice vibrations in the floorboards, in case he planned a surprise checkup.It was way after midnight, though. Cliff was long asleep. Rock flopped onto his side and raised his head, punching and twisting hispillow. Maybe he should turn on his lamp and work on his paper, geta few more index cards done, if sleep was evading him for now.
SONS OF LIBERTY Adele Griffin