Macey sighed. She hadn’t felt the hands of the Lord. It would be easier if she had. “I’m going to go to the principal,” she said to Grace, “and ask if I can share Rachel’s speech time. I certainly have twelve minutes and forty seconds’ worth of stuff to say.”

Grace looked steadily back. “On what topic, Mace?”

“Burning. I finally understand, Grace. It took me so long! I’m so slow! It isn’t the barn burning in 1959 that matters. It’s that we’re still on fire. When I stirred the ashes, it didn’t start a fire. Fire has been burning all along. We’re going to burn down our own house if we don’t put out the fire.”

Grace took a deep breath, lowered her eyelids and opened them wide again.

“What are you talking about, Macey?” said Lindsay.

But Grace said, “Think first, Mace. Nobody wants this. You start this up, they won’t want you, either.”

Macey felt closer to Grace than she ever had, because what was a friend for, if not to give warning? Everybody in this school, this town and this state, wanted to stand by the side of the road in the dark. She said, “Grace, I don’t see how I can do it alone. Come with me.”

They stared at each other.

Lindsay was confused and hurt. “Macey. What are you talking about?”

“The fire of hate,” said Macey. “Somehow … it turned out to be my job. Putting it out.”

Grace shook her head. “Forget it, Mace. You can’t put out racial fires.”

“But if I don’t try, or take a first step, I can’t ever call Mr. Sibley back, or think about Venita, or reread Dorothy Edna Loomis’s letter, or send another box of crayons to Good Shepherd.”

“Oh, that,” said Lindsay. She stood up, dusting her hands on her jeans.

Macey’s heart hurt. What if everyone in school—like her grandparents, like her parents, like Lindsay—said, “Oh, that,” and dusted themselves off and walked away?

But Lindsay put out both hands, one to each friend, and hauled Macey and Grace to their feet.

“Oh, brother,” said Grace irritably. “Okay, fine, we’re friends, we’ll go with you to the principal. He’ll probably agree. You’ll get your twelve minutes and forty seconds. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. Nobody cares, Mace.”

“Going to the office is not the hard part. I need you to stand on the stage with me when I give my talk.”

“Oh, brother!” moaned Grace. “I’m not standing anywhere with you if you’re going to preach. I can feel a disaster coming. I won’t be part of it.”