an’ you’ll go around at night suckin‘ people’s breath—” “How can you keep from passing through one?”
“You can’t,” said Jem. “Sometimes they stretch all the way across the road, but if you hafta go through one you say,”
“‘Angel-bright, life-in-death; get off the road, don’t suck my breath.’ That keeps ‘em from wrapping around you—”
“Don’t you believe a word he says, Dill,” I said. “Calpurnia says that’s nigger-talk.”
Jem scowled darkly at me, but said, “Well, are we gonna play anything or not?”
“Let’s roll in the tire,” I suggested. Jem sighed. “You know I’m too big.”
“You c’n push.” I ran to the back yard and pulled an old car tire from under the house.
I slapped it up to the front yard. “I’m first,” I said. Dill said he ought to be first, he just got here.
Jem arbitrated, awarded me first push with an extra time for Dill, and I folded myself inside the tire.
Until it happened I did not realize that Jem was offended by my contradicting him on Hot Steams,
and that he was patiently awaiting an opportunity to reward me.
He did, by pushing the tire down the sidewalk with all the force in his body.
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