Explore "Revolution Is Not a Dinner Party" by Ying Chang Compestine on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
All summer, the baby doctor's vacant face haunted me. In my dreams, she walked toward me with a white rope around her neck, carrying a baby in her arms. As I stretched my hand to take the baby, she faded away. I often woke in a cold sweat and couldn't fall back to sleep. I lingered over the fear of what Mother planned to do with the rope under her bed. I wanted to take it away from her, but when I went to look for it, it was gone.
I couldn't stop thinking about the two boys and the grandmother. I never saw them again after that horrible day.