The Girl on the Outside (10 page)

Chapter 11

The party was over. Those who were not going to Chatman were leaving quietly. The governor's speech had fallen over them like a pall. The room that had been filled with fun and gaiety was now electrified with fear.

Eva reluctantly said goodnight to Cecil. She trembled as his arm went around her shoulder and his voice betrayed his fear for her.

“I'm sure you're not still planning on going now,” he said.

“I'll wait and see what this all means.”

“The man just told you … ‘blood will flow in the street.' That could be
your
blood.”

“He also said the Guard will be there to protect us.”

“That's not what he said. And even if he said that, do you believe him?”

“Aw, Cecil. I'll see what happens. Mrs. Floyd won't let us do anything that would harm us.” She refused to see his frame of mind.

Cecil shrugged and sighed. “See you tomorrow after football practice, okay?”

“Fine. Take care.”

“No.
You
take care.” He squeezed her hands.

She looked into his eyes. Her heart raced and her throat tightened. For a moment she struggled to hold back tears. In spite of trying to appear calm, her mind buzzed with the governor's words.

The room was too quiet when she reentered—a sharp contrast to moments before. What had they expected? A red-carpet welcome at Chatman? At least sanction? But now Cecil's words about the governor's speech had Eva confused. “Blood will flow … protect our citizens.” What did that speech really mean?

Mrs. Floyd sat with the group, appearing as calm as usual. However, Eva felt an uneasiness unknown before in all the meetings they had shared. Was Mrs. Floyd scared, too?

Nevertheless, when Mrs. Floyd spoke her voice was strong and reassuring. “You heard the governor ask for a restraining order from Judge Pomeroy, and for your parents to keep you home until a more feasible plan can be worked out. Now, I know the final decision must be made with you and your parents, but I would like to know what you all are thinking.”

Eva looked from one face to another trying to figure if they all were as scared as she. Her mind kept wandering back to her father sitting with the shotgun. What if so many came that he would be outnumbered. They would all die. She shuddered at that thought.

Her mind refused to follow what was being said. It took great effort and a constant reminder to herself—pay attention.

“What if the judge does not agree with the governor? … Will we still have to go?” Harold asked.

“You will not
have
to go,” Mrs. Floyd said. “You would still have the choice.”

“A choice to get beaten up?” Lillian asked. They all laughed but tension was not relieved.

“Some choice,” Arthur said.

“Didn't you hear the man?” Eva asked. “He said the soldiers were here to protect property and citizens.”

“That's a good point, Eva,” Mrs. Floyd said.

“But can we believe they'll see us as citizens?” Harold asked.

“If the courts tell us to go, they'll have to,” Bobbie said.

“Let's wait,” Mrs. Floyd said, “until the judge has made his decision; and we'll see what our lawyers think and what your parents think.…”

“… And what we think,” several people said at once, including Eva.

“Do you still think you want to go?”

Mrs. Floyd's question brought Eva back to the basic fear. Deep down under she still wanted to go but now she was afraid, not only for her father and family, but for herself.

“What about you, Eva?” Mrs. Floyd asked.

Eva had not heard what the others had said. She was on her own, and she said, “Yes, if the soldiers are there to protect us.”

“Then if the judge says you are to go with the protection of the soldiers, all of you are still willing?”

They all agreed.

“Good, God bless you. We'll come together as soon as we get some of these answers.”

“Are we going tomorrow, still?” Eva asked.

“The judge probably won't act until tomorrow. But we follow directions from the school's superintendent. If any word comes from him tonight, I'll let you know.”

Parents arrived and everyone had gone except Eva. Eva had expected her father to be later than others because he had the farthest to come. But she had not thought he would be that late. She tried to settle down and not worry. The governor's words still controlled her thoughts and made her restless.

“What if they don't let us go, Mrs. Floyd?” she asked.

“We'll just keep on trying.”

“Don't you ever get tired?”

“Can't get tired. For every gain, we sometimes might have to knock on twenty doors before one opens up to us. So we gear ourselves up to keep on knocking until one opens. And one
will
, eventually.”

“Will it, Mis' Floyd?”

Mrs. Floyd reached over and patted Eva's hand. “Honey, I have faith. And that's the meaning of hope.”

The doorbell rang. Eva jumped, startled. “Whew, I'm getting nervous.”

“I wouldn't've been so late, but the street's crowded with outta state cars. I had t' go outta the way t' git here!” Her father came in, apologizing.

“Oh, that's all right. I enjoyed Eva's company,” Mrs. Floyd said.

“I guess y' know the soldiers camped out 'round the school.… People in the streets goin' t' look at that.”

“I hope you don't have any trouble going home. And don't you worry one bit about being late getting here.”

Eva rode beside her father, sensing the danger they were in. They could be followed, forced off the road, even shot at before they got home. Only the sound of the motor interrupted their silence.

Her father knew every street in Mossville and several routes to their house. Now they took only side streets driving with their lights out. Slowly, slowly they made their way home.

Would they ever get home through those dark side streets? Eva leaned forward, her body willing them home.

Just as they neared the turn-off on the road leading into their section of town, a car came up behind them. Her father speeded up and turned. The car followed. Headlights glared in their rear-view mirror.

Cold sweat rolled down Eva's sides. She looked at her father. He kept his eyes fixed on the road. They were almost home.

Suddenly the car cut around them with the horn blowing. “Turn on your lights, Roger,” someone shouted.

Eva and her father laughed with relief. They had been followed by a friend. Her father turned on the lights and drove home safely.

The house was dark, but her mother met them at the door. She breathed a great sigh and said, “Thank God, I thought y'all would never git here.”

“Blood will flow in the streets.” The radio news used those words again and again. Eva sensed her mother's fear as she watched her pace up and down from room to room.

“Did Aunt Shirley go home?” Eva asked.

“Yeah, and took Tanya, thank God. I'll be so glad when this is all over. Oh, Eva, I wish … I wish.…”

“Turn off that radio and don't listen. That's nothin' but confusion,” her father said.

“How we gonna know if we don't listen?” her mother asked.

“We heard what the governor said with our own ears. That is just a rehash and a lotta hearsay,” her father said. “Let's now wait for the word of the judge.”

“Mrs. Floyd said she will come and tell us any change in news, Mama. Try to calm yourself. Everything is all right,” Eva said.

“Oh, you and your daddy. I just wish you two wasn't so stubborn.”

“You call it stubborn, Mama, some people call it hopeful.”

“Like a bee buzzing 'round a tar bucket,” her mama said.

“Oh, Mama,” Eva cried in anguish.

“Baby, I didn't mean it like that. But I'm scared and worried. How do we know if them soldiers here to do a job
for
us, or
on
us?”

“We'll have to see what the judge says tomorrow, Mama. If it's not safe, I promise I won't go.” All at once, Eva felt exhausted. “Let's go to bed. I just might have to go to school tomorrow.”

She lay in bed listening to the crickets. A dog far away howled at the stars and the sound of neighbors' muffled voices floated through her window. Lying still, Eva tried to force sleep.

But sleep wouldn't come. She tossed and turned. She dozed, but awoke immediately with a start, her eyes having lost the sleepiness. A mockingbird sang trill after trill. Eva marveled at such a powerful sound coming from so small a throat.

Finally the heat drove her from her small bed. She stood in the window bathed in the light of the million stars and the song of the mockingbird. For a moment she felt a surge of joy. It was as though she were one with the stars and the bird's song. Nothing else mattered. Oh, what peace! But it lasted only for a moment.

Then she thought of Grandma Collins and how she had known peace and happiness with her. But that was before she knew that drugstore ice cream could be as good, or better, than that made at home. When had she learned that? She could not remember the exact time or place. Nor when she had learned that she was
different
and that the difference was measured only by color. She did not know when she had learned that no matter what she did she could not overcome that difference for she could not shed her skin. But she knew that after knowing, her world changed. She learned to be comfortable with herself and to expand within those boundaries of her dark hue. It was like attaining the security in learning to read a map. Once you know, you can never get lost again.

The song ceased. Only the silent stars remained. The dark, hot night closed in on her and she longed for the peace of sleep. Back on her bed, Eva floated between sleep and wakefulness. Then she was in a place where doors were wide, tall, and strongly built with small windows too high up to peep through. She was going from door to door knocking—knocking wildly—feeling an urgency to get inside. But there were no answers. She became frantic, running from door to door, knocking as loudly as she could. Then just the sound of knocking seemed to be all around her, pushing through her window and beneath the door, raising her up. She started up. The knocking was at their front door.

Eva jumped out of bed. “Daddy, Daddy,” she called. “Somebody's at our door.”

When she entered the living room, her father was standing with the gun in his hand. He was about to open the door.

“No! No, Daddy, don't open the door,” Eva shouted.

“It's me, Mr. Collins,” a voice rang out.

“Who?” shouted her father.

“It's me, Mrs. Floyd.”

Eva stood in the middle of the room shivering. Cold sweat poured off her, even though the night was hot.

Tension showed in her father's voice. “What is it this time o' night?”

“Tell Eva she is
not
to go tomorrow. Our lawyers and the superintendent will let us know when, after the judge has made his decision.”

Oh, no, Eva thought, but she could not say a word. She listened until the sound of Mrs. Floyd's car was lost in the distance. “Poor Mrs. Floyd, out here this time of night,” she said. Then Eva went back into her room.

She heard her father moving about and wondered what time it was. Just then the cuckoo clock struck two. She sighed, knowing there were still hours ahead for troubled sleep.

Chapter 12

The ringing telephone woke Sophia and stirrings below indicated the household was up and about. The news on the radio immediately recalled last night's shattering spectacle. Sophia turned over in anger, her throat and chest tightening.

A door closed below and the sound of Burt's car made Sophia look at the clock. Six-thirty. The morning news continued to spiral upward to her room, and even though she could not clearly understand all that was being said, she knew this morning was not a usual first day of school.

Again a door closed. Soon the sound of her father's car backing out of the driveway came simultaneously with a flash of light shimmering on her wall—a reflection of the sunlight on the moving car. Already the sun was fierce.

Sophia stretched, feeling she had not had a moment's sleep. She lay trying to understand her unexpected exhaustion. Never before on the eve of the beginning of school had she gone to bed so unhappy and awakened with such a bitter feeling, regretting the day.

She loved school, and always before she had looked forward to its opening, preparing days ahead what she would wear, with whom she would walk, and what the whole day would be like. But this morning, she had no rousing enthusiasm. She did not want to go.

A delightful aroma floated around the room as Sophia drifted between sleep and wakefulness. M-m-mm, she thought. She sprang up—waffles! All the hunger of yesterday forced her out of bed. Suddenly she felt a welling up of happiness. Ida was back.

Clad only in her pajamas, the trousers cut off to her thighs, she raced down the stairs, her hunger mounting. The pleasant aroma engulfed her as she drew closer to the closed kitchen door.

She burst through. “Good morning. Gee, I'm starved.”

Her mother was sitting at the glass-topped table on the back porch adjoining the kitchen, writing on a small notepad. On the kitchen countertop, the old-fashioned, round waffle iron gleamed as steam from cooking waffles poured out of its sides. Atop the stove, crisp strips of bacon were placed on paper towels, with little bubbles of fat still waiting to be absorbed. The sun shone through the window reflecting on the yellow curtains, brightening the whole room. Everything was in place.

Ida was pressing a garment, her body positioned with her face toward the back porch. Suddenly Sophia had a strange sense that she was seeing this room and Ida in it for the first time. Then she remembered Rod and what she had felt when Grit bolted. That feeling had been fear, but what she felt now was different. She was not only seeing Ida as she was at the moment, but as she had been over the years.