Forged by Fire

by Sharon M. Draper Narrated by Thomas Penny

Overview

Gerald is only three years old when his mama leaves him alone in the house while she visits her drug dealer. He finds the hot thing she uses to light her cigarettes and in no time, the house is ablaze. Mama is sent to prison, and Gerald goes to live with his Aunt Queen. When he turns nine, Gerald unhappily learns that his mama is being released from jail and wants her son back. Suddenly, he must switch from a loving home to a household dominated by his abusive stepfather. When Gerald learns a terrible secret about his stepfather and the half-sister he has grown to love, he'll have to find the courage to do what's right.

Author Sharon M. Draper, a National Teacher of the Year Award winner, tackles tough issues like physical and sexual child abuse. Thomas Penny's empathetic narration makes Forged by Fire and unforgettable listening experience.

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly

This prequel to Draper's Tears of a Tiger is a stark portrayal of a young man struggling to protect his little sister from a drug-addicted mother and an abusive father. Ages 10-up. (Jan.)

School Library Journal

Gr 7-10Gerald, a battered and neglected African-American child, is severely burned in a fire at the age of three, having been left home alone by his single mother, Monique. Upon leaving the hospital he goes to live with his warm and caring Aunt Queen. When he is nine, his mother reenters his life for the first time since the accident. Monique introduces him to Angel, his four-year-old half-sister, and Jordan Sparks, Angel's surly father. When Aunt Queen dies suddenly of a heart attack, Gerald is returned to his mother and takes on the role of loving protector of his little sister. He soon learns that Sparks, who mentally and physically abuses all of the family, is sexually abusing Angel. Gerald and Angel's testimony helps send Sparks to prison, but upon his release six years later, he returns to the family, with the blessing of Monique, whose own life is checkered with bouts of substance abuse. A terse confrontation erupts into a fiery climax when Sparks again attempts to molest Angel. The riveting first chapter was originally published as a short story in Ebony magazine under the title "One Small Touch." While the rest of the book does not sustain the mood and pace of the initial chapter, Forged by Fire is a grim look at an inner-city home where abuse and addiction are a way of life and the children are the victims. There's no all's-well ending, but readers will have hope for Gerald and Angel, who have survived a number of gut-wrenching ordeals by relying on their constant love and caring for one another.Tom S. Hurlburt, La Crosse Public Library, WI

Kirkus Reviews

An African-American boy grows into a decent man, a loving brother, and a steadfast son despite the cruelties of his childhood in this latest novel by Draper (Tears of a Tiger, 1994, not reviewed, etc.). Although three-year-old Gerald is burned in the fire caused by his drug-addicted mother Monique's recklessness, his life takes a turn for the better: The court sends him to live with his aunt, Queen. Wheelchair-bound and poor, Queen has a loving heart and boundless spirit that nourish and cultivate Gerald for six years, until his mother walks back into his life. When Queen abruptly dies, Gerald moves into Monique's home, where he becomes devoted to his younger half-sister, Angel, and suffers at the hands of his mother's new husband. Jordan is a bully, drunk, and child molester; while Angel and Gerald get him convicted (the police show up as Jordan is about to abuse Angel), he eventually returns to haunt the family after serving his jail term. While Draper's narrative is riveting, it is also rife with simplistic characterizations: Aunt Queen is all-good, Monique is all-stupid, and Jordan is all-evil. In addition, there are enough logical twists in the plot without the seemingly gratuitous death of Gerald's friend, Rob.

A touching story, burdened by contrivances.

From the Publisher

Draper creates believable and important heroes for teenage boys—those who are forged from adversity, only to burn more brightly and courageous.”

“With non-stop excitement, this is well-written, easy to read, and possibly an inspiration for anyone trapped in family situations involving child abuse or domestic violence.

Product Details

BN ID:	2940170969715
Publisher:	Recorded Books, LLC
Publication date:	10/10/2008
Edition description:	Unabridged
Age Range:	10 - 13 Years

Read an Excerpt

Forged By Fire
ONE
“IF YOU DON’T sit your stinkin’, useless butt back down in that shopping cart, I swear I’ll bust your greasy face in!” she screamed at the three-year-old in front of her. He studied her face, decided she was serious, and put his leg back inside the cart. He was standing near the front end of the cart, amidst an assorted pile of cigarette boxes, egg cartons, and pop bottles. He didn’t want to sit down anyway because of the soft, uncomfortable load in his pants, which had been there all afternoon and which felt cold and squishy when he moved too much. He rarely had accidents like that, but when he did, Mama sometimes made him keep it in his pants all day to “teach him a lesson.”

Gerald was only three, but he had already learned many such lessons. He’d never seen Sesame Street, never heard of Riverfront Stadium—he didn’t even know he lived in Cincinnati. But he knew the important things—like never mess with Mama when she was in bed—Mama got really mad when you woke her up, especially if she had somebody in bed with her. And never touch the hot thing that Mama used to light her cigarettes, even if the mysterious orange-and-blue fire that comes out of it liked to tease you and dance for only a moment before running away.

Mama had once caught Gerald playing with the lighter, and she made the fire come out and she held his hand right over the flame. It wasn’t his friendly fire dancer, though, but a cruel red soldier that made his hand scream and made him dizzy with pain and he could smell something like the meat Mama cooked, but it was his hand. When she stopped, she had washed his hand with cool water and soothed him with warm hugs and wrapped with salve and bandages the place where the fire soldier had stabbed him. She told him that she had done it for his own good and to teach him a lesson. He had tried to tell her that he was just trying to find the fire dancer, but she wasn’t listening and he had given up, thankful for the hugs and the silence.

One other lesson that Gerald had learned was never, never stay near Mama when she sniffed the white stuff. She got it from a man named Leroy who smelled too sweet and smiled too much. When he leaves, you hide behind the couch and hope Aunt Queen comes over because sometimes Mama yells and gets her belt or her shoe and hits, and hits, and hits.... And sometimes she just goes to sleep on the floor and it gets dark and you cry and your tummy feels tight and hurty, but at least there’s no shoe to run away from.

Once Aunt Queen had found Gerald curled up behind the couch sucking his thumb. His pajamas were soaked and smelly and he was shivering and hungry. Mama had been gone all day. She had told him not to leave the room, and he had really, really tried to be good, but he was so cold, so very cold. Aunt Queen had taken him to her apartment and given him a warm bath, a bowl of hot soup, and some warm, fuzzy sleepers, even though she had to pin the back of them so they wouldn’t fall off. Then Mama had come and she and Aunt Queen had yelled and screamed so much that Gerald had to hold his ears while he lay curled at the foot of the bed. Finally Mama started crying and Aunt Queen was saying stuff like, “I know, honey,” and Gerald knew he was going back home.

That night, Mama had hugged him and kissed him and held him close until he fell asleep. Gerald had felt so warm and special and golden—he wanted to feel like that forever. He knew his mama loved him. She had bought him a G.I. Joe man last week and it wasn’t even his birthday or Christmas or anything, and most days she combed his hair and dressed him in clean clothes, and told him to say, “Yes, ma’am” to grown folks. And sometimes, on really good days, she would hug him and say, “You know you’re my best baby boy, don’t you, Gerald? You know you’re my baby, don’t you?” And he would smile and that warm, golden feeling would start at his toes and fill him all the way up to his smile.

Even though Mama had yelled at him, today was a good day. Mama always yelled—it was no big deal. (Some days he yelled back at her. Then she would slap him and he’d cry and he’d cuss at her and then she would slap him until his head hurt. So mostly he ignored her.) But today was a good day, a shiny day, he thought. The sun was bright gold outside against a clear blue sky. And inside the grocery store there were so many colors and sounds and lights that Gerald just grinned. It was always crowded when they went. Other children would be in carts also and they would have to pass very close to each other. Gerald liked to pretend he was driving a big, fine silver car down the expressway.

Sometimes the cart would be a tank, as he passed cautiously through rows of armed cling peaches and silent sentinels that looked like boxes of Frosted Flakes. And at the checkout lane, the armies rolled smoothly down the long black road that disappeared under the counter. He started to ask Mama where it went, but it was more fun to imagine that it went to a secret hideout where only sweet potatoes and boxes of oatmeal were allowed.

When they got home from the grocery store, Gerald sat on the floor and watched Mama stack the boxes and cans on the shelf. She was whistling—he had never heard her whistle before and he loved the way she laughed as he tried to imitate her. She changed his clothes (and didn’t even yell at him for not being a big boy) and gave him two cookies and an apple. Then she went into the other room. When she came out, she had changed her clothes and Gerald thought he had never seen anything so lovely. She had on her sparkly fancy dress that Gerald liked to touch.

“Mama will be right back, baby,” she told him. “I just have to go see Mr. Leroy for a minute. You stay right here and wait for me, you hear?” Gerald started to cry, but he didn’t want Mama to lose her good mood, so he just nodded and bit his lip. The door closed and he could hear her high heels clicking on the steps. Then it was very, very quiet.

After he finished both his cookies and the apple had turned brown on the white parts, Gerald looked for something to do. It was getting dark and he wanted G.I. Joe to sit with him because the shadows on the wall were getting long and scary. He found G.I. Joe on the floor next to Mama’s bed, right next to the cigarette lighter that she had been looking for this morning. Gerald picked it up and for a time he used it as a gun for Joe, then it was a log for Joe to jump over, then it was an enemy for Joe to attack.

Finally Gerald started idly flicking the little red handle. At first is just made a scratchy sound and the smell made him cough and remember how he’d got that brown place in the palm of his hand. Then he remembered the tiny fire dancer, and he wondered if it still lived in there with the fire-sword soldier.

After numerous flicks, he got the fire to stay on. He grinned with delight. The dancer was there, smiling at him and bowing for him, changing from splendid orange to icy green to iridescent purple. The lighter flame flickered magically, making golden the purple shadows on the wall.

With sudden inspiration, Gerald shouted, “Hey Joe, we got a torch!” as he and G.I. Joe marched around the kitchen table. Gerald crawled under the table then, flicking the lighter over and over again to light the way for G.I. Joe. They fought shadows and monsters; they blew up cities and kingdoms. Gerald made the sound effects and G.I. Joe dutifully followed his general into combat. As the mighty battle came to its climax, Gerald crawled up on a chair and stood on the kitchen table, waving his arms triumphantly. Mama would kill me, he thought momentarily, if she saw me up here, but the thought passed as G.I. Joe fought the terrible mountain man by the light of only a single torch.

Suddenly the tiny light of G.I. Joe’s torch was huge and bright as the tip of one curtain in the window touched the flame. Gerald heard a loud whoosh and then he turned in terror to see the whole window covered with harsh red flames that crawled and licked and jumped along the windowsill. Gerald scrambled down from the table and ran to his hiding place behind the couch. Mama said stay here and wait for her, he told himself. I know she’ll be here in a minute. He peeked around the corner of the sofa and watched flames consume the boxes of cereal and macaroni that Mama had just bought. When the fire reached the bottle of Big K soda, Gerald watched, fascinated, as the soda bubbled, then fizzed. When it finally burst in a loud, sizzling explosion, Gerald jumped back behind the sofa, coughing and wheezing from the heat and smoke.

He curled up in his usual position then, thumb in his mouth, crying softly. He thought about his mama and how pretty she was. He wondered if G.I. Joe would ever find his way back. And he wondered how he could see so many colors with his eyes closed.

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