Stella by Starlight (22 page)

Mrs. Hawkins started humming . . . humming a tune that had to be a hundred years old, a slave song, maybe. It was Claudia and a few of the first graders who joined in first, just like they did at school. Gradually more joined in, Stella as well, joined in singing words
that hadn't quite meant as much to her before as they seemed to at this very moment.

“Ain't gonna let nobody turn me round,

Turn me round, turn me round.

Ain't gonna let nobody turn me round.

Gonna keep on walkin', keep on talkin'

Marching up to freedom land.

Ain't gonna let no hatred turn me round,

Turn me round, turn me round.

Ain't gonna let no hatred turn me round.

Gonna keep on walkin', keep on talkin'

Marching up to freedom land.”

As they walked, the singing grew louder. It seemed to Stella that the walking went a whole lot faster as they sang. Then folks began adding their own verses:

“Ain't gonna let no fire turn me round,

Turn me round, turn me round.

Ain't gonna let no fire turn me round.

Gonna keep on walkin', keep on talkin'

Marching up to freedom land.

Ain't gonna let no Klansman turn me round,

Turn me round, turn me round.

Ain't gonna let no Klansman turn me round.

Gonna keep on walkin', keep on talkin'

Marching up to freedom land.

Ain't gonna let nobody turn me round,

Turn me round, turn me round.

Ain't gonna let nobody turn me round,

Gonna keep on walkin', keep on talkin'

Marching up to freedom land.”

Stella craned her neck to check the end of the group. “Gosh!” she said to Carolyn, “there's a line of folks stretched longer than I can see!”

When she turned back, she saw the polling location, which in Bumblebee was the sheriff's office, looming ahead. So did everyone else, for the crowd went silent and slowed. But her father, Mr. Spencer, and Pastor Patton continued forward.

The sheriff, a lanky, red-faced man named Amos Sizemore, stood in front of the door, arms folded across his chest. The three voters stopped in front of him, held their hats in their hands, and waited.

“Do you think he'll let them in?” Stella whispered to Carolyn.

Carolyn shook her head.

“What are they waiting for?”

“Hush up!” Mrs. Odom told Stella sharply, her finger to her lips.

Stella's pulse pounded. A blue jay squawked in the distance. Everything else was noiseless anticipation.

The sheriff stood, legs wide, glaring at the crowd. The sheriff glaring at them was nothing new. But what
was
new, Stella saw, was that everyone was staring boldly back at him, no eyes cast down. No one moved for a good five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty-five minutes of silence and waiting.

Then, incredibly, and for no apparent reason, the sheriff stepped aside. He did not say a single word. He did not make eye contact with the men in front of him. But he moved out of their way.

And Pastor Patton, Hobart Spencer, and Stella's
papa walked through the door and disappeared into the darkness of that office.

Nearly the entire Negro population of Bumblebee stood in the street, quietly waiting while the three men voted. Stella noticed something else and nudged Carolyn. Some of the white townspeople who had come to vote didn't leave when they were through voting. They stayed and joined the group standing outside the sheriff's office. Mrs. Cooper, the candy store owner. Mr. Bobbs, the bait salesman. Mr. Stinson, the mailman. The undertaker. And still, nobody said a word.

The sheriff scowled at the scene, then abruptly disappeared inside the office.

Twenty minutes later, just as Stella thought she was going to collapse with worry and anticipation, her father, the pastor, and Mr. Spencer emerged from the polling station, smiles lighting their faces. And
now
she saw what she'd expected to see earlier in Mr. Spencer's eyes. They were on fire.

36

since i have this
typwriter
typewritter
typewriter now, i will pretend to write a
newspapper
newspaper. i will call it

STELLAS STAR SENTINEL (finally
lerned
how to make all capitls. still cant fix messups. This thing needs to be able to
erse
eras
erase.)

Franklin Delano Roosevelt is the new
prsident
. he won in a landslide. Landslide makes me think of rocks and dirt falling down a mountain. Not sure what that has to do with an election.

but maybe it does. my papa voted. He is a pebble. Lots of
pbbles
pebbles make a
landslide, right? his vote
countd
counted.

Roosevelt will move into the
white house
White House and will have a fine suppper to celebrate, i guesss. papa had cornbread and buttermilk and beans with his
freinds
friends at my house. i bet papa enjoyed his
cellebrattion
celebration more.

37

Stella had just cupped her hand around the last egg in the nest, the chicken huffing and fluffing its feathers, when her father came into the coop on Saturday morning.

“Stella, your mama wants you to go get Doc Hawkins, and then run on over to the general store,” Papa said. “Jojo still isn't feeling well.”

“He's worse?” she asked. Come to think of it, Jojo had been coughing quite a bit at night. And he'd missed school yesterday.

“He can't keep anything on his stomach, and I don't like the sound of that cough. Mama says ask Mr. O'Brian for some Sal Hepatica and some of that awful-tasting Ayer's Cherry Pectoral.” He reached into
the pocket of his overalls and gave Stella two dimes and a nickel. “And ask Doc Hawkins to come by here first, please—before he makes his rounds. Your mama's pretty good with her liniment rubs and hot soup, but I want the doctor to check my boy, just for good measure.”

“I'll hurry, Papa,” Stella said, taking note of the worry on his face. She tucked the egg into the basket and handed it to him.

“You be careful, girl,” he said. “No stopping at the candy store. No stopping to talk to friends. Straight there, straight back. You hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” Stella said. And she took off.

Before she could even knock at Doc Hawkins's door, Tony opened it. “What you doin' out so early?” he asked with a big grin.

“Is your father home?” Stella asked, ignoring Tony's annoying cheerfulness.

“Yeah, he's out back getting the wagon ready. He's got a few patients to see today. Why?”

“It's Jojo—he's real sick. Papa asked if he could come as soon as he can. Can you tell him?” Stella said urgently. “I've got to go to the general store.”

Tony's grin faded. “I'll have him there in five minutes.” He disappeared back into his house, and Stella continued on down the road.

Her jumbled thoughts skittered like the marbles Jojo liked to play with as she made a beeline for town. Jojo had to feel plenty awful to be willing to stay in bed on a Saturday! She was so lost in thought that when she heard footsteps closing in behind her, she jumped. “You scared the life outta me, Tony! Where you going? Where's your daddy?” She pressed her hand against her thumping heart. It wasn't the Klan. It wasn't the Klan, she kept repeating to herself.

“Slow down. Relax. Daddy is probably already at your house. And I decided to come with you into town. Need to pick up something myself. Is that all right with you?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“It's colder than a billy goat's butt today,” Tony said, slapping his palms together. “You think we'll get snow?”

“Not likely. But winter is coming,” Stella said, kicking up some of the crisp leaves along the road's edge.

“You worried about Jojo?”

“I really am. He's never, ever sick, so . . .”

“My father is a really good doctor.”

“I know,” Stella told him. She bit the inside of her lip for a second, then came out with it. “Hey, do you think folks think Dr. Packard is a better doctor than your dad just because he's white?”

“The white folks sure do,” Tony said. “Don't know about the rest.” He picked up an acorn and chucked it at a tree. “And what about you?”

“Your daddy—why, he's cured all sorts of ailments and problems in people around here! Remember when Randy Bates got the pneumonia? His mama thought he was gonna die.”

“Yeah. My father stayed with him for twenty-seven hours straight. And remember the time Claudia Odom cut her foot on that broken glass? He sewed her up so good you can't even see the scar.”

Tony leaped into the air, just reaching the lowest branch of a maple tree. He pulled off a handful of gold and brown leaves and handed them to Stella with a flourish.

She took them, smiled, then let the leaves drop. “So, you thinkin' on being a doctor like your father?”

“Maybe. That's why he lets me help him. Do you know I once saw a baby be born? I mean not a cow or a horse, but a real baby!”

“Golly!”

“Yeah, it was terrible and wonderful at the same time.”

“Well, except for all the blood,” Stella said.

“You know, it might sound odd, but I didn't even notice. When that baby first cried, I felt like a hero or something.”

Stella huffed. “Well, the mother did all the work!”

“You're right about that,” Tony agreed with a laugh. “What about you? You thinking about going into medicine too?”

“Not me! I
would
notice the blood.” She stepped up the pace as they got closer to town. “I don't know what I want to be yet—gotta figure out what I'm good at.”