{"id":973,"date":"2009-01-07T10:51:08","date_gmt":"2009-01-07T15:51:08","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/\/?p=973"},"modified":"2009-01-07T10:51:08","modified_gmt":"2009-01-07T15:51:08","slug":"fireflies-in-december-by-jennifer-erin-valent","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=973","title":{"rendered":"Fireflies in December by Jennifer Erin Valent"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

It is time to play a Wild Card<\/span>!<\/strong> <\/span>Every now and then, a book that I have chosen to read is going to pop up as a FIRST Wild Card Tour<\/a>. Get dealt into the game! (Just click the button!) Wild Card Tours feature an author and his\/her book’s FIRST chapter!<\/p>\n

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Today’s Wild Card author is: <\/strong><\/div>\n
Jennifer Erin Valent<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

and the book:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Fireflies in December<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Tyndale House Publishers (December 8, 2008)<\/p>\n

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>Jennifer Erin Valent is the winner of the Christian Writers Guild\u2019s 2007 Operation First Novel contest for Fireflies in December, her first published novel. When she\u2019s not penning novels, Jennifer works as a nanny and freelance writer in Richmond, VA.<\/p>\n

Visit the author’s website<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Product Details:<\/p>\n

List Price: $12.99
\nPaperback: 352 pages
\nPublisher: Tyndale House Publishers (December 8, 2008)
\nLanguage: English
\nISBN-10: 1414324324
\nISBN-13: 978-1414324326<\/p>\n

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:<\/span> <\/strong>
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

The summer I turned thirteen, I thought I\u2019d killed a man.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s a heavy burden for a girl to hang on to, but it didn\u2019t surprise me so much to have that trouble come in the summertime. Every bad thing that ever happened to me seemed to happen in those long months.<\/p>\n

The summer I turned five, Granny Rose died of a heart attack during the Independence Day fireworks. The summer I turned seven, my dog Skippy ran away with a tramp who jumped the train to Baltimore. And the summer I turned eleven, a drought took the corn crop and we couldn\u2019t have any corn for my birthday, which is what I\u2019d always done because my favorite food was corn from Daddy\u2019s field, boiled in a big pot.<\/p>\n

To top it off, here in the South, summers are long and hot and sticky. They drag on and on, making slow things seem slower and bad things seem worse.<\/p>\n

The fear and guilt of the summer of 1932 still clings to my memory like the wet heat of southern Virginia. That year we had unbearable temperatures, and we had trouble, just that it was trouble of a different kind. It was the beginning of a time that taught me bad things can turn into good things, even though sometimes it takes a while for the good to come out.<\/p>\n

The day I turned thirteen was one of those summer days when the air is so thick, you can see wavy lines above the tar on the rooftops. The kind of day when the sound of cicadas vibrates in your ears and everything smells like grass.<\/p>\n

On that day, as Momma got ready for my birthday party, I told her that I wanted nothing to do with watermelon this year.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe have some fine ones,\u201d she told me. \u201cJust don\u2019t eat any.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut the boys will spit the seeds at us like they do all the time,\u201d I said. \u201cAnd they\u2019ll hit me extra hard today since it\u2019s my birthday.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll tell them not to,\u201d she said absentmindedly as she checked her recipe again with that squinched-up look she always got when trying to concentrate.<\/p>\n

I knew I was only another argument or two from being scolded, but I tried again. \u201cThose boys won\u2019t listen to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThose boys will listen to me if they want to eat,\u201d she replied before muttering something about needing a cup of oleo.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey don\u2019t even listen to Teacher at school, Momma.\u201d<\/p>\n

That last reply had done it, and I stepped back a ways as Momma picked up her wooden spoon and peered at me angrily, her free hand on her apron-covered hip. \u201cJessilyn Lassiter, I won\u2019t have you arguin\u2019 with me. Now get on out of this house before your jabberin\u2019 makes me mess up my biscuits.\u201d<\/p>\n

I knew better than to take another chance with her, and I went outside to sit on my tree swing. If God wasn\u2019t going to send us any breeze for my birthday, I was bound and determined to make my own, so I started pumping my legs to work up some speed. The breeze was slight but enough to give me a little relief.<\/p>\n

I saw Gemma come out of the house carrying a big watermelon and a long knife, and I knew she had been sent out by her momma to cut it up. Gemma\u2019s momma helped mine with chores, and her daddy worked in the fields. Sometimes Gemma would help her momma with things, and it always made me feel guilty to see her doing chores that I should have been doing. So I dug my feet into the dry dirt below me to slow down and hopped off the swing with a long leap, puffing dust up all around me.<\/p>\n

I wandered to the picnic table where Gemma was rolling the green melon around to find just the right spot to cut into. \u201cI guess this is for my party.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s what your momma says.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you comin\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy momma never lets me come to your parties.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo? Ain\u2019t never a time you can\u2019t start somethin\u2019 new. It\u2019s my party, anyways.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt ain\u2019t proper for the help to socialize with the family\u2019s friends, Momma says.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYour momma and daddy have been workin\u2019 here for as long as I can remember. You\u2019re as close to family as we got around here, as I see it. I ain\u2019t got no grandparents or nothin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n

Gemma scoffed at me with a sarcastic laugh. \u201cWhen was the last time you saw one brown girl and one white girl in the same family?\u201d<\/p>\n

I shrugged and watched her slice through the watermelon, both of us backing away to avoid the squirting juices.<\/p>\n

\u201cLooks like a good one,\u201d Gemma said as the fragrant smell floated by on the first bit of a breeze we\u2019d seen all day.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll I see are seeds for the boys to hit me with.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy do you let them boys pick on you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t let \u2019em. I always push \u2019em or somethin\u2019. But they\u2019re all bigger than me. What do you want me to do? Pick a fight?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGuess not.\u201d A piece of the melon\u2019s flesh flopped onto the table as Gemma cut it, and she popped it into her mouth thoughtfully. \u201cI\u2019ll never know why boys got to be so mean.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s part of their recipe, I guess.\u201d I helped by piling the slices on a big platter, and I strategically picked as many seeds as I could find off the pieces before I stacked them. Never mind my dirty hands. \u201cYou come by around two o\u2019clock,\u201d I told her adamantly. \u201cI\u2019ll get you some cake and lemonade. You\u2019re my best friend. You should be at my party.\u201d<\/p>\n

Gemma shushed me and shoved an elbow into my ribs as her momma went walking by us.<\/p>\n

\u201cGemma Teague,\u201d her momma said, \u201cyou girls gettin\u2019 your chores done?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAin\u2019t got no chores of my own, Miss Opal,\u201d I told her. \u201cI figured on helpin\u2019 Gemma instead.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen you two make certain you keep your minds on your work, ya hear?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes\u2019m,\u201d we both mumbled.<\/p>\n

Gemma\u2019s momma walked past, but she looked back at us a couple times with a funny look on her face like she figured we were planning something.<\/p>\n

In a way we were, but I didn\u2019t see it as being a big caper or anything, so I continued by saying, \u201cYou know, I ain\u2019t seein\u2019 any sense in you not at least askin\u2019 your momma if you can come by for cake. She\u2019s usually understandin\u2019 about things.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEvery year it\u2019s the same thing from you, Jessie. She won\u2019t let me come, and besides, I\u2019ll bet your momma don\u2019t want me here no more than my momma does. It just ain\u2019t done.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018It just ain\u2019t done\u2019!\u201d I huffed. \u201cWho makes up these rules, anyhow?\u201d<\/p>\n

Gemma kept her eyes on her work and said nothing, but I knew her well enough to see that she didn\u2019t understand her words anymore than I did.<\/p>\n

Momma called me from the open kitchen window, but I ignored it and kept after Gemma. \u201cNow listen. You just come on by after we\u2019ve cut the cake and pretend to clean up somethin\u2019, and I\u2019ll be sure you get some.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAin\u2019t no way I\u2019m gettin\u2019 in trouble for some cake and lemonade that I\u2019ll get after the party anyhow,\u201d she argued. \u201cYou\u2019re just bein\u2019 stubborn.\u201d<\/p>\n

I sighed when Momma called me again. \u201cShe\u2019s gonna tell me to take a bath, I bet. You\u2019d think at thirteen I\u2019d be old enough to stop havin\u2019 my momma order me to take baths.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019d never take one otherwise,\u201d Gemma said. \u201cAin\u2019t nobody wants to smell you then.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI hate takin\u2019 baths on days this sticky. My hair never dries.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTakin\u2019 a bath on a hot day ain\u2019t never bad.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt is when the water\u2019s hot as the air is.\u201d<\/p>\n

Gemma shook her head at me like she always did when I was being hardheaded. \u201cWater\u2019s water. Cools you off any which way.\u201d<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t believe her, but I headed off to the kitchen, where Momma had filled the big metal tub we\u2019d had to take baths in ever since the bathroom faucets broke. The sheet she\u2019d hung across the doorway into the next room flapped as the breeze I\u2019d prayed for began to pick up.<\/p>\n

I hopped out of my dungarees in one quick leap and crawled into the tub. \u201cIt\u2019s hot as boiled water,\u201d I complained.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell then, we\u2019ll have you for supper,\u201d Momma replied as she measured out flour, obviously undisturbed by my discomfort. \u201cYour guests will start gettin\u2019 here in a half hour, so don\u2019t dawdle unless you want everyone findin\u2019 you in the tub.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes\u2019m.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd don\u2019t forget to clean behind your ears.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes\u2019m.\u201d<\/p>\n

Water splashed as I washed with my usual lack of grace, landing droplets about the kitchen floor. It didn\u2019t really matter since Momma always made a mess when she cooked and the floor would need cleaning after she was done. No doubt the flour and water would mix into a fine paste, though, and she\u2019d have a few words to mutter as she tried to scrub it up. As she measured sugar, I could hear her praying, \u201cOh, dear Jesus, let me have enough.\u201d Momma prayed about anything anytime, anywhere.<\/p>\n

By the time I\u2019d scrubbed and dried, the smell of biscuits was drifting through the house and Momma was putting the oil on for the chicken. She was a good cook, no matter the mess, and she always put on quite a show for these birthday parties.<\/p>\n

As I walked up to my room, wrapped in a ragged blue towel, I heard Momma call after me not to forget to put on my dress. Then she added, \u201cPlease, Lord, let the girl look presentable.\u201d I think Momma often wondered why, if she was to be blessed with a girl, she had to get one that mostly acted like a boy.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo dungarees!\u201d she added. \u201cAnd put on your church shoes.\u201d<\/p>\n

I rolled my eyes, knowing she was nowhere near me. I would never have dared to do it in front of her. I hated dressing up, but for every birthday, holiday, church day, and trip into town, I had to wear one of the three dresses that Momma had made me. She was as fine with a needle as she was with a frying pan, but I hated dresses nonetheless. Mostly because when I wore them, I had to sit all proper in my chair, and I couldn\u2019t do cartwheels, at least not without getting yelled at. But I put on the dress because I had to and buckled up my church shoes.<\/p>\n

I could hear Daddy\u2019s footsteps coming down the hall, and I turned to smile at him as he stopped at my doorway.<\/p>\n

\u201cLookin\u2019 pretty, dumplin\u2019,\u201d Daddy said.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s too bad.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNow, now. Ain\u2019t nothin\u2019 wrong with a girl lookin\u2019 like a girl.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho says wearin\u2019 dresses is the only way to look like a girl?\u201d<\/p>\n

Coming into the room, his dirty boots leaving marks that Momma would complain about later, Daddy tossed his hat onto a chair and helped me finish tying the bow on the back of the dress. \u201cWe don\u2019t make the rules; we just follow \u2019em.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, someone had to make the rules in the first place. We should just make new ones.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo doubt you will one day, Jessilyn,\u201d he said with a sigh. \u201cBut for now, you\u2019d best follow your momma\u2019s instructions. She ain\u2019t one to be disobeyed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you gonna be at the party?\u201d I asked hopefully, knowing full well that he\u2019d been in the fields all morning and looked in need of a nap.<\/p>\n

\u201cWouldn\u2019t miss it, you know that. I got the corn on already.\u201d Daddy rubbed his tired eyes, picked up his hat, and walked out, whacking the hat against his leg to loosen the dust.<\/p>\n

He worked hard, especially this time of year, and no matter how many men were willing to work the fields, he would always put in his fair share alongside them. I had suspected of late, however, that he was working harder more out of necessity than a sense of duty. We\u2019d had fewer men to help than in years past, and it wasn\u2019t due to lack of interest, I was sure. I\u2019d seen my daddy turn three men away just the day before.<\/p>\n

Things were poor, especially in our parts, and for having a working farm and a good truck, we were fortunate. We even had some conveniences that other people envied, like a fancy icebox and a telephone, and Momma was pretty proud of that. We weren\u2019t rich like Mayor Tuttle and his wife, with their big columned house and fancy motor car, but we were thought to be well-off just the same. Momma and Daddy never talked money in front of me, and I decided not to fuss with it. It caused too many problems for adults from what I could see. What did I want to do with it?<\/p>\n

I made my way downstairs and stepped out onto the porch, disappointed to see Buddy Pernell was the first to arrive. I didn\u2019t like Buddy very much. But then, I didn\u2019t like many kids very much. I thanked him for coming\u2014mainly because Momma\u2019s glare told me to\u2014and received the plate of cookies his momma handed me. In those days, we didn\u2019t give gifts at parties; it was too extravagant. But every momma felt it only proper to bring some sort of favor along.<\/p>\n

By the time we had a full crowd, one side of the food table was filled with jars of jelly, bowls of sugared strawberries, a couple pies, and even one tub of pickled pigs\u2019 feet. I promptly removed those, but Momma stopped me cold.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe accept all gifts with thanks, Jessilyn,\u201d she hissed in my ear as she replaced the tub on the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cEven pigs\u2019 feet?\u201d I argued.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes ma\u2019am! Even pigs\u2019 feet.\u201d<\/p>\n

It took only ten minutes before the first watermelon seed landed in my hair. All the other girls started screaming and ran for cover, but I fought back at the boys out of sheer pride. I did a little shoving, Momma did some yelling, but I got pummeled anyhow.<\/p>\n

After we finished eating lunch, I spotted Gemma hanging laundry on the line and ran over to get her help brushing all those sticky seeds out of my hair.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou ought to not let \u2019em do this to you,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI told you before,\u201d I said with my eyes shut tight to stand the pain of Gemma\u2019s brushing, \u201cthey\u2019re all bigger than me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI think they\u2019re too big for their britches. That\u2019s the problem.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe so, but that don\u2019t change nothin\u2019. I still can\u2019t whip \u2019em.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I did the best I could.\u201d Gemma peered closely at my sun-streaked hair. \u201cI can\u2019t see no more.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust wait till we go swimmin\u2019,\u201d I told her. \u201cI\u2019ll find some critter to stick down Buddy Pernell\u2019s knickers. He\u2019s the one leadin\u2019 the boys in the spittin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou best be careful. Them boys might do somethin\u2019 to hurt you back.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI ain\u2019t scared of them,\u201d I lied. \u201cBesides, they got it comin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n

Gemma shook her head and grabbed a pair of Daddy\u2019s socks to hang on the line. \u201cYou\u2019re stubborn as a mule, Jessie.\u201d<\/p>\n

I figured she was right, but I wasn\u2019t about to give her the satisfaction of hearing me say it. Instead, I rejoined the party, grabbed a piece of cake, and stood by watching the boys scuff about with each other, playing some kind of roughhouse tag. The other girls stood around watching the boys, giggling over how cute this one was and how strong that one was. I couldn\u2019t figure them out.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll that fussin\u2019 over boys,\u201d I said through a mouthful of frosting. \u201cIf you girls had any smarts, you\u2019d be playin\u2019 tag right along with \u2019em.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy don\u2019t you?\u201d Ginny Lee Kidrey asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m eatin\u2019. Ain\u2019t no reason to stuff down cake when I can play tag anytime I want.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re just a tomboy, Jessie Lassiter,\u201d said Dolly Watson, who always wore dresses and perfume that smelled like dead roses. \u201cWhat do you know about boys?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEnough to know that they ain\u2019t worth wastin\u2019 time on.\u201d<\/p>\n

The girls turned their noses up at me\u2014all but Ginny Lee, who was the only real friend I had outside of Gemma, and even she had started to become more like the other girls of late.<\/p>\n

The only reason I even had those other children at the party was because Momma insisted on it. She liked entertaining guests, but in our parts we didn\u2019t have much chance to entertain, and she took every chance she got. So every year I had to invite the kids from school to interrupt my summer vacation and celebrate my June birthday with a party. The only thing I ever liked about those parties was the food. I would have been satisfied to spend my birthday having boiled corn with Gemma.<\/p>\n

Buddy Pernell stopped in front of me and tugged at my braid. \u201cStill stuffin\u2019 your face?\u201d he asked with a smirk. \u201cDon\u2019t you like to do nothin\u2019 but eat?\u201d<\/p>\n

Knowing my short temper, all the boys loved to tease me just to see how much they could rile me. I responded to Buddy in my usual way. \u201cI just like standin\u2019 here watchin\u2019 you boys beat each other up. And besides, ain\u2019t nothin\u2019 wrong with eatin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere is if it makes you fat.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI ain\u2019t fat!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou keep eatin\u2019 like that and you\u2019ll be fat as your momma.\u201d<\/p>\n

Now, my momma wasn\u2019t fat. I knew that as well as I knew that Buddy Pernell\u2019s momma was. But it didn\u2019t matter. True or not, he\u2019d insulted my momma, and it took me no time at all to react by shoving what was left of my cake right into Buddy\u2019s face, making extra sure to push upward so the frosting would fill his freckled nose.<\/p>\n

Buddy wasn\u2019t so brave then. He began clawing at his face like I\u2019d thrown acid on it, crying something fierce about not being able to breathe.<\/p>\n

Momma ran over, hysterical, simultaneously scolding me and coddling Buddy. I responded to her by saying I\u2019d never heard of anyone suffocating on cake before, but she didn\u2019t appreciate my rationalizing. I got a whack from her left hand and Buddy got a wipe across his face from her right.<\/p>\n

The other boys were laughing, throwing insults at Buddy about how he\u2019d gotten shown up by a girl, but he was too worried about not being able to breathe through his nose to hear them.<\/p>\n

I watched with a smile as Buddy\u2019s momma grabbed a cloth and ordered him to blow his nose into it. Buddy blew like his brains needed to come out, and eventually he found that he was able to breathe right again, although his momma insisted on getting a good look up his nose to be certain that it was clear of frosting.<\/p>\n

The boys loved the picture of Buddy having his nose inspected by his momma, and they couldn\u2019t get enough of the jokes about it.<\/p>\n

I got hauled into the house for a scolding and a whipping. I tried telling Momma that thirteen was too old for whippings, but she said if I was acting like a child, I should be punished like one. Every time I got another whack with that wooden spoon, I thought of a new way to make Buddy pay for the walloping. After all, if he hadn\u2019t made fun of my momma, I wouldn\u2019t have made him snort up that cake.<\/p>\n

I took my punishment without explaining because I didn\u2019t want to hurt Momma\u2019s feelings by telling her what Buddy had said, and I made my way slowly and sorely back out to the party with revenge in my mind.<\/p>\n

Gemma saw the silent tears that I\u2019d been biting my lip to keep from letting out, and she came over to wipe them with her apron.<\/p>\n

I smiled at her halfway. \u201cI\u2019m okay. At least I will be once I get back at Buddy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGet back at him? He\u2019s the one who\u2019ll be wantin\u2019 to get back at you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust let him try. I wouldn\u2019t have gotten that whippin\u2019 if he hadn\u2019t made fun of my momma in the first place.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you go talkin\u2019 like that. He\u2019s already got it in for you, and if you do anythin\u2019 else, he\u2019ll go and do somethin\u2019 awful.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI ain\u2019t afraid of him!\u201d<\/p>\n

Gemma shook her braided head at me. \u201cYou talk tough, but you won\u2019t be so tough if Buddy Pernell hurts you bad.\u201d<\/p>\n

I sniffed at her like she was worrying over nothing, but I knew deep down that I could have been asking for trouble by playing with Buddy. Boys with no sense can be dangerous, my momma had told me a few times, but my stubbornness didn\u2019t leave any room for being cautious. I was determined to hold a grudge against Buddy, and that was that. But I could see that Buddy was keeping his eye out for his first chance to get back at me, and I watched him with a little worry in my heart as he and the other boys stood together in whispers.<\/p>\n

I tried to pretend I wasn\u2019t nervous, and when Gemma got called into the house, I joined the other girls, who\u2019d gone back to twirling their hair and talking about the boys.<\/p>\n

With the boys standing around making plans and the girls standing around watching them, my mother got irritated and told us to find something active to do. \u201cGo on down to the swimmin\u2019 hole. Get some exercise, for land\u2019s sake.\u201d<\/p>\n

All of us girls went to my bedroom to put on our swimming suits, but with a knot in my stomach and a lump in my throat, I changed slower than them all. Gemma had been right, I figured. I\u2019d be paying, and good, and the perfect place for Buddy to get me would be at the secluded swimming hole.<\/p>\n

After I\u2019d changed, I went downstairs to find my momma. \u201cMaybe we shouldn\u2019t go to the swimmin\u2019 hole,\u201d I told her while she was making up another batch of sweet tea.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s hot as hades out there. It\u2019ll do you all good.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not that hot.\u201d<\/p>\n

Momma stopped scrubbing and looked at me strangely. \u201cWere you in the same air I\u2019ve been in today? It\u2019s thick as molasses.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut swimmin\u2019 ain\u2019t no fun.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou love swimmin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot today, I don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

By now, Momma was curious, and she wiped her hands on her apron before placing them on her hips. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you just up and tell me what\u2019s got you so ornery?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI ain\u2019t ornery!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t argue with me, girl. If I say you\u2019re ornery, then you\u2019re ornery.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked down at my toes and sighed. I couldn\u2019t tell Momma that Buddy had called her fat, and I didn\u2019t want to show her I was afraid, anyway.<\/p>\n

\u201cTell me one reason why you shouldn\u2019t go to the swimmin\u2019 hole.\u201d<\/p>\n

I continued staring at my dusty feet and shrugged.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t know, I guess you\u2019re sayin\u2019. Well, if you ain\u2019t got a reason, you best be headin\u2019 out to that swimmin\u2019 hole. I\u2019m too busy to wonder what\u2019s goin\u2019 on in that silly head of yours.\u201d<\/p>\n

I could feel Momma watching me as I scuffed out of the kitchen without another word, letting the screen door slam behind me. I took several steps before glancing back at Momma through the window, where she stood humming some hymn I remembered hearing in church. I took a deep breath. In my dramatic mind, it was as if I were saying a final good-bye. Who knew if I\u2019d come back from that swimming hole alive? Momma would feel pretty bad if I ended up dying, and she\u2019d have to live the rest of her life knowing she\u2019d sent me to my death.<\/p>\n

Poor Momma.<\/p><\/div>\n

MY REVIEW:<\/h3>\n

Fireflies in December<\/a> is a beautifully written novel about a time in our history that we would like to forget but need to remember. As a child of the south, I grew up with racial prejudice. Fortunately I was not exposed to the type of hatred that Jessie and Gemma experienced. I never saw any evidence of Klan activity. It was something only whispered about that happened somewhere else.<\/p>\n

Fireflies in December<\/a> is a coming of age story about Jessie whose life is yanked suddenly from the innocence of childhood to fear for the lives of herself and her family. Although the plot is intense, it is relieved with humor and Jessie’s first interest in the other gender. All things considered, Fireflies in December<\/a> is a must read book. I am looking forward to future books by Jennifer Erin Valent.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It is time to play a Wild Card! Every now and then, a book that I have chosen to read is going to pop up as a FIRST Wild Card Tour. Get dealt into the game! (Just click the button!) Wild Card Tours feature an author and his\/her book’s FIRST chapter! You never know when […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[8],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-973","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/973","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=973"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/973\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":987,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/973\/revisions\/987"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=973"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=973"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=973"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}