Fire from the Rock (7 page)

Sylvia turned to Lou Ann with a shrug, gave Reggie an apologetic smile, and helplessly followed the ample hips of Miss Washington out of the cafeteria. Her heart thudded as she tried to imagine what she possibly could have done wrong. Usually it was Calvin Cobbs who was called to task for acting silly or forgetting his homework.

Maybe Sylvia had forgotten an important assignment in the confusion from last night. Gary's injuries, which, of course, everybody in the colored community had heard about by now, turned out to be mostly cuts and bruises, but he would be out of school for a few days. Maybe Miss Washington wanted to ask her about Gary. She'd had him in class a couple of years ago.

The voices of her friends echoed in the halls as they entered Miss Washington's empty and silent classroom.

“You're an excellent student, Miss Patterson,” Miss Washington said, looking directly at her.

“Thank you, ma'am,” she replied, a little surprised at the compliment. She felt like an ant under a magnifying glass.

“Have you discussed with your parents the opportunity I offered the class yesterday?”

“I didn't really get the chance, ma'am,” Sylvia replied. “My brother, Gary, got into a little trouble last night, and Mama and Daddy were not in a mood to talk about Central High School.”

“Yes, I heard about that. Gary always has been volatile and impetuous, and I must admit that his behavior might work against you. But you, my dear, are steady, dependable, and capable of handling the social and emotional difficulties that would confront you. We want your name to be placed on the list.”

Sylvia was overwhelmed. “Me?” she croaked. “I don't think I'm brave enough for all that stuff.”

“Yes, you are. In addition, you have intelligence, which the boys who attacked your brother do not have. Bravery and brains will take you a very long way.”

“But it's Gary who wants to be on the list, not me. Choose him instead of me, please.” Sylvia knew that Gary would kill for this chance, and they were offering it to her on a platter. He'd be furious when he found out—and hurt as well.

Miss Washington softened and smiled a little. “You are just the type of young woman who is needed for this task, Sylvia Faye.” That was the first time she ever heard Miss Washington call a student by a first name.

Sylvia had to sit down at one of the empty desks. “My parents will never let me.”

“I'll talk to them,” Miss Washington interrupted. “I know they will have strong reservations because of the incident with Gary. But we'll see what happens. Go and finish your lunch now. And don't mention this conversation to anyone yet.”

“Thank you, ma'am,” Sylvia whispered as she hurried out of the room. She stood there in the hallway, trembling with apprehension. When she got back to the empty lunchroom, which smelled faintly of old meat loaf, both Reggie and Lou Ann had gone to their next class. Sylvia had lost her appetite anyway.

Sylvia knocked on Gary's door and peeked in his room. On his dartboard he had taped of picture of Orval Faubus, governor of Arkansas, a man who had made it very clear he did not like Negroes. Several darts had perforated the newspaper cutout.

“Does that make you feel better?” Sylvia asked, pointing at the dartboard as she walked in.

“Not really. But it gives me something to do for now,” Gary told her. He was stuck at home until he was fully healed. It wouldn't be much longer. Most of the swelling had diminished considerably, and he only had a couple of Band-Aids still covering the deeper cuts on his arms. “So how was school today?”

Sylvia took a deep breath. “Same as usual. Except Reggie sat with me at lunch. He asked about you—said he'd back you up next time. That makes me real nervous, Gary.”

“He understands the real deal,” Gary said, nodding with approval. He gazed out of the darkened window.

“Reggie also asked me to go to a basketball game, and—”

“Ha! I told you he was sweet on you! Watch yourself. I know how bad boys can be when they like a girl,” Gary warned.

“Uh, thanks, but Reggie's not like that. Besides, I don't think I have to worry as long as we're just sharing hot dogs at a game. There was one more thing, though.” She hesitated.
How am I gonna tell him?

“What? Miss Washington decided you should be on the debate team? You can't say no to that woman, you know.”

“I know. But it wasn't the debate team.” Sylvia paused, knew she was about to hurt him deeply, then she said slowly, “She wants me to be on the list of kids who might integrate Central High School.” Sylvia felt miserable.

“That's great news!” Gary said as he got up to give Sylvia a hug. “We can go together, and I'll be there to protect you!”

It was even harder than she thought it would be. “Uh, I don't think they included your name, Gary. They're afraid you might be too outspoken or violent”

“Violent? Me?” Gary was predictably enraged. “Only if somebody starts it first. I don't let anybody push me around!”

“I think they know that,” Sylvia said quietly. “I'm sorry, Gary. I didn't want this.”

“It's not fair,” Gary growled. “I
really
did.”

She left his room, knowing he was the brave one, the bold one.

It was all she could think about as she helped her mother prepare the evening meal, and, although she opened her mouth to bring up the subject a couple of times, she simply didn't have the nerve to do it at dinner. Donna Jean chattered about the latest Archie comic book, unaware of the tension. Gary ate in silence.

After dinner Miss Washington didn't call—she showed up at their house. Sylvia was sitting on the sofa with Donna Jean, watching
The Dinah Shore Show
on TV. Gary was sitting in his father's favorite chair, still being spoiled by their mother. He refused to make eye contact with Sylvia.

The doorbell rang, and, since everyone in the family had been a bit jumpy lately, they turned off the television and waited for Mr. Patterson to answer it. Miss Ethel Washington filled the room with her authority. Sylvia jumped off the sofa, offered her seat to the teacher, and moved to a hassock where she waited for the firestorm that was sure to come.

“So glad to see you, Miss Ethel,” Sylvia's mother said as she took Miss Washington's coat and hat. “How's your mother doing these days?”

“Oh, she's doing fair for an old lady—she keeps me hopping, that's for sure.” Miss Washington chuckled. As she shifted her ample weight on the sofa, the plastic creaked.

“Would you like a slice of apple pie and a little tea?” Mrs. Patterson asked, heading to the kitchen even before Miss Washington had a chance to answer.

“You know you make the best pie in the county, Leola. I'd be much obliged.”

Mr. Patterson asked his wife for a slice of pie for himself, and spoke to Miss Washington warmly. “So glad to see you, Sister Ethel. So what brings you out on such a cold evening?” he asked as he took a bite of pie.

“Well, I wanted to check on young Gary here, and to tell the truth, I just had a craving for Leola's apple pie, so I figured I would just drop by,” Miss Washington replied.
Why is it that grown-ups take a million years to get to their point, when they want us to answer on a dime?

While the adults laughed, Sylvia squirmed. When they finally got over all the pleasantries, and Miss Washington had eaten two pieces of pie and a slice of cake as well, she looked directly at Gary and said solemnly, “You know they're going to integrate Central High this fall, don't you, son.”

“Yes, ma'am. It's about time,” Gary replied boldly.

“How do you feel after your unfortunate incident last night? You healing up all right?”

Gary shifted in his seat. “Yes, ma'am. I'm about healed up. Just a little sore. Mama says whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I'll be strong enough to fight again soon.”

Sylvia cringed. She knew Gary had no chance with words like that.

“We're looking for bold, brave, nonviolent students, Gary,” Miss Washington said gently. “Do you understand what I'm saying?”

Gary looked away from the intensity of her gaze.

Mr. Patterson spoke up. “Integration of the schools won't be happening soon, will it, Sister Ethel? At least not in our lifetime.”

Sylvia thought her father sounded hopeful, like she did when she knew the last piece of cake was gone, but she asked for it anyway.

“It's going to take place this year. 1957. September. In your lifetime, and the lives of your children.”

Mr. Patterson shook his head. “I'll believe it when I see it.”

“The buses were integrated without any trouble last year. We didn't have to do a boycott or anything drastic like they did in Montgomery,” Miss Washington offered.

“Yes, I know, but this is not the same,” Mr. Patterson said.

“The university is integrated,” Miss Washington continued.

“Yes, for a few. We think that's good,” Sylvia's mother said. “But I keep remembering the looks of hatred on the faces of Mrs. Crandall and the rest of those white women as those colored students registered for class. You know the old saying, ‘If looks could kill' ...” Mrs. Patterson's voice trailed off and Sylvia rolled her eyes at her sister.

Donna Jean sat next to her, eyes large, hoping, Sylvia knew, that she wouldn't get sent out of the room during this juicy grown-up talk.

“We teachers have been asked to submit names of qualified students to help implement the integration,” Miss Washington continued.

“You don't think Gary's name should go on the list?” Sylvia's mother asked, a look of concern and amazement on her face.

“No, not Gary,” Miss Washington replied. Gary scowled then looked away.

“You're not suggesting we submit Sylvia Faye to the kind of beating Gary got this week?” Mrs. Patterson asked incredulously.

“There is nothing to indicate that she would be in any physical harm. The school board is grudgingly trying to implement the law of the land.” Miss Washington shifted in her seat.

“This is no job for a girl,” Sylvia's father said forcefully, “especially my little girl!” Sylvia didn't agree with him about the little girl part, but she was grateful that he wanted to protect her.

“Those women ...” Sylvia's mother began.

“Are just that. Women with too much time on their hands,” Miss Washington said emphatically.

“And malice in their hearts,” Sylvia's mother said quietly.

“Sylvia Faye is an excellent student,” Miss Washington continued. “I am very proud of not only her academic abilities, but her poise and thoughtfulness as well. She could handle the pressure.”

“I don't know, Miss Washington. It's a wonderful honor and opportunity, but it's also potentially very dangerous. Let us think about it for a few days.” Mrs. Patterson had started nervously collecting dishes and dusting the spotless coffee table.

“Think about it. Pray about it. Talk about it. Let me know by Monday.” Miss Washington got up, and, after thanking Mrs. Patterson for the hospitality, she put on her coat and went on her way. The house suddenly seemed smaller.

Gary was the first to speak. “They should have picked me. I could have protected myself!” He was angry.

“You'd mouth off to some white girl, or smack a white boy, and instead of them tossing a bruised son on my porch, they'd bring you home in a wooden box!” his father told him. Gary twisted his face to respond, but a look from his father made him change his mind.

“What do you think, Sylvia Faye?” her mother asked her quietly. It was the first time all evening anyone had given her a chance to say what was on her mind.

“I like my school,” she replied, speaking slowly. “I feel comfortable there. I know everyone, and we all understand each other. It just feels right.” Her mother nodded in understanding. “But when I look at Central High School and I see how big and wonderful it is, how much they have and we don't, I don't think it's fair that some law says white kids get to go there, but I can't.”

“The only law they understand is fists!” Gary mumbled from his chair.

“Which is why you could never be chosen to do this job,” his mother told him gently. “This is a time for tolerance and understanding, not violence.”

Gary twisted with frustration and glared at his father. “They'll pay attention to violence. We have to fight for our rights.”

“There's got to be a better way than fighting,” his father reasoned.

“Your way hasn't worked very well the last two hundred years,” Gary retorted. “What are you gonna do when they beat Sylvia and she comes home bruised and bloody?” Sylvia felt suddenly chilled.

Mrs. Patterson looked alarmed. DJ ran and buried her head in her mother's lap. “I'm sure that won't happen, Gary,” she said as she soothed the trembling child. “The students of Central come from good families like ours. You're just inciting fear.”

“What if I'm not?” he asked, his voice a flag of challenge. “Even if she's not physically in danger, how can a flimsy, dreamy girl like her cope with racial slurs, with people hating her?” He turned to Sylvia. “You need for people to like you, don't you, Sylvie?”

“Well, sure. But I'm stronger than you think, Gary,” Sylvia told him.

“No, you're not. Remember last year when that group of girls at school decided you were too smart? They made fun of you, picked on you, and refused to invite you to their parties. You came home in tears more than once.”