The Girl on the Outside (9 page)

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Authors: Mildred Pitts; Walter

BOOK: The Girl on the Outside
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There was silence. Eva thought of the Scripture—“Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill …”—and once more she felt a little afraid.

Mrs. Floyd broke the silence. “Now, you'll all meet your buddies in the morning and you'll go together as we planned. If that plan changes, I'll call each of you and let you know. Any questions?”

The doorbell rang.

“The others are arriving. Let's have our party now,” Mrs. Floyd said, and she started up the stairs.

Eva quickly joined her. “Mrs. Floyd, I don't have a telephone.”

“I always forget. I'll come and let you know, as I always do.”

People were arriving fast. Eva stayed upstairs and Bobbie joined her to help Mrs. Floyd finish the refreshments.

“Cecil coming?” Bobbie asked.

“Yeah.”

“I passed Carver today,” Bobbie said. “Saw him out there in all that heat for football practice. He just might not show tonight.”

“He will … he'd better!”

Mrs. Floyd took a tray of sandwiches downstairs. As soon as she was out of hearing range, the girls huddled together.

“Eva, you scared?”

“Yeah, somewhat,” Eva answered. “If only I knew what to expect.”

“She just told us. Expect to be dogged. Girl, I don't know if I can hold my temper.”

“We'll have to. You heard what she said. We're the example.”

“Guinea pigs,” Bobbie said, taking a tuna sandwich from the tray. “I'd make a better other kind of pig.” She laughed.

“It's gonna be …”

Eva quickly changed the subject as Mrs. Floyd came into the kitchen. “What you gonna wear tomorrow?”

“Mama surprised me with a dress, and I don't like that kind of surprise. But it's a nice dress.”

“You couldn't have tried it on in the store, anyway,” Eva said.

“I know! Doesn't that just burn you?”

“Well, girls, one of these days, and it won't be long, you'll go into the store and try on shoes and dresses before you pay for them,” Mrs. Floyd assured them.

“I like what you have on,” Eva said to Bobbie as she tucked in the facing at the back of Bobbie's dress. The vanilla colored cotton dress had a scooped, round neckline and tiny buttons down the front to the waist.

Eva thought Bobbie, with her glowing brown skin and long black hair, was the prettiest of the six girls. When Bobbie smiled, her round face dimpled and her laughter rang out of complete abandonment.

Now as Eva smoothed the facing, she knew Bobbie was her best friend.

“Eva, you bring the punch bowl. Bobbie, carry this tray and I'll bring the rest. I think everybody's about here now,” Mrs. Floyd said, leading the way downstairs.

The crowd had increased. Most of the seniors from Carver were there. Eva moved about, wondering what had happend to Cecil. Surely he would not stand her up.

Mrs. Floyd arranged the food on the table and announced that she was going up to prepare her husband's supper and watch the news. “All I want you to do, now, is have a good time.”

The mood of the crowd had changed from what it had been when the nine students had first arrived. Now there was food and good music, but everybody sat around alone, or in little groups, subdued.

Eva wandered over to Harold who again was engrossed in
Crisis
magazine. “Don't you ever get tired of reading?” she asked and smiled.

“No,” he said, without looking up.

“Aw, come on, Harold. Put that magazine down. This is a party.”

“All the people in this room, why you have to pick on me?”

“Cause you're so serious. You're serious as a heart attack, man.”

He laughed and closed the magazine.

She laughed, too, then said quietly, “Are you worried?”

“In a way. But if they give us only half a chance, I think we'll make it.”

Just then Eva heard fast footsteps on the stairs. Cecil burst into the room.

“Where's the party?” he shouted. “Hey, you guys haven't gone to Chatman
yet
. Come on, let's let the good times roll. Let's party.” He made his way toward Eva.

Eva waited with a bright smile on her face. The room suddenly took on a different glow. Her heart raced under her thin dress as Cecil took her hand and led her to the center of the floor. They danced.

Before long everybody was dancing. The sandwich trays emptied and the punch vanished. Noise swelled and over the shout, “It's show time,” Eva got herself together to do her number.

Chapter 10

Street lights were already on when Sophia emerged from the skating rink. It was just minutes before eight, that hour when those who were spending the evening out were gone and those staying in were settled to some activity. The streets were quiet.

The area was familiar and Sophia had walked home many times before, enjoying the night fragrances and sounds. But tonight, even though houses were lighted, windows and doors were open, and people could be seen on porches and inside, Sophia felt uneasy.

She hurried down the street not seeing the distant stars, not hearing the night birds and crickets, not smelling the honeysuckle vines. Alert to some unseen danger, her whole body was intent on getting home.

As she entered her street she suddenly became aware of her fear and was annoyed. Why am I afraid, she asked herself. Why this feeling of shame, guilt, and anger?

Did it have to do with the curiosity she felt about Negroes? That Burt! How could I have ever thought it might not be so bad knowing them? I must never stray that far again. Her mind flashed to her disbelief of Burt's assertion that their parents had gone down to colored town with him and May.

She would ask her mother about that this very evening, she told herself. But did she really want to get to know Negroes? No! She wanted no part of them. Hadn't she just formed a pact to ignore them? She thought of the brilliant idea she had helped formulate and felt a rush of pride.
They are not our kind
. Ignore them and everything will be all right.
But she would ask her parents about what Burt had told her
.

Lights were on in her house and she felt a surge of relief that she would not be alone. She hoped that May had sent her some supper. I'm starved, she told herself.

Her mother and dad were in the small study off the hall. Sophia went in, kissed her father on the forehead and sat near her mother. “Haven't seen you all day, Mother,” she said.

“I got an early start. Good thing, too, the spring was crowded.”

Sophia looked at her mother whose face was glowing. “You look great.”

“What was your day like?”

“Good. Burt drove me out to the stables.”

“Did you ride with Arnold?”

Sophia's heartbeat quickened. “No. Did he call?”

“Not since we've been home. Where were you after riding?”

“Went skating, but that was just so, so. Too crowded.” How could she ever get the conversation back to Burt now? She had missed her chance when she did not follow through on his taking her to the stable, she thought. She had to know if what he had told her was true, yet she could not bring herself to ask. “Did May send me some supper?”

“She sent you some angelfood cake,” her mother said.

“You feel like an angel?” her father asked.

“No. I'm hungry as the devil,” she said without laughter.

“Your brother should be home any minute, starving, too. Deserve that cake by making enough supper for him,” her mother said.

“Why me?
You
gave Ida two days off and because of your generosity, I've had nothing to eat all day,” Sophia's voice betrayed annoyance.

“Is that Ida's fault? You'd better learn to get on without Ida,” her mother said ignoring Sophia's tone.

“I guess I'd better. Like the rest of them, she'll be calling the shots and you'll just cave in.”

“Wait a minute, young lady. You don't talk to your mother like that,” her father said firmly.

Sophia slumped in the chair, not understanding why she felt so angry. Why this sudden animosity toward Ida who had been in the house as a servant as long as Sophia could remember? Always it had been Ida to whom she had gone when everyone else refused to understand her. Never before had there been any doubt that Ida was the one person upon whom she could depend.

The quiet in the room disturbed her, and suddenly guilt replaced her anger. Was it her mood that had ruined the harmony that existed in the room earlier? What was happening to her? She still wanted to know if her parents had ever mixed with colored people the way Burt said they had. But how could she ask that now? Why had what she said about Ida brought such a response from her father? He never cut Burt off. No. There were long clarifying discussions with him!

Suddenly her mind went back to Rod and she felt a terrible pang of guilt. She longed to place her head in her mother's lap and beg forgiveness for what she had said about Ida. She wanted assurance that everything was all right. Then she could feel free to ask them if what Burt said was true. She sighed and asked, “Where is Burt?”

“He's out trying to get a scoop on the governor's speech,” her father said. “But that's a well-kept secret. No one will know until we all know in about an hour.”

Sophia sat up, determined it was now or never. “Mom.…”

“Yes.”

“Oh, never mind.…”

“What is it, dear?” her mother asked with so much warmth that Sophia was encouraged.

“Did you ever go down to colored churches?”

“No … I don't remember.”

Sophia flushed. Her heart beat faster and she tried to control this unexpected happiness that came out of knowing her parents had not done such a thing. “You and Dad never took Burt and May to hear colored people sing?”

“Oh, that. Not at a church, dear. But that's so long ago. Honey,” she turned to her husband, “what was that colored school?”

“That Baptist college? My, my, that's been years ago.”

“Did you go there?”

“Yes. We used to. I remember. Oh, and could they sing,” her mother said.

“And you sat with them?”

“Well, we had special seats,” her father said.

“Why … why did you want to go there?” Sophia asked in dismay.

“I was on their Board then,” her father said matter-of-factly. “I'd forgotten that, those were pleasant times … no pushing then for the mingling of the races.”

“They had very special concerts that were excellent. Especially at Easter,” her mother recalled with enthusiasm.

Sophia felt a sudden letdown. Why hadn't they mentioned this before? Didn't they know that Grandma Stuart had forbidden her to even think of going among those people? “Why didn't you tell me you had done that?” Sophia asked. The tone was sharp.

Her father, who had his hand on the knob to turn on the television, straightened up and looked at Sophia.

“Why, Sophia!” her mother said. “What's with you this evening?”

“You never asked. And how did you find out?” her father wanted to know.

“Burt told me.”

From the hall, Burt's voice came in loud and clear. “And what did Burt tell you?”

“It's no secret and no big thing,” their father said.

“I don't know what has gotten into Sophia these last few days,” their mother said.

Suddenly there was a loud rumbling noise.

“What's that?” their father asked, alarmed.

“Sounds like war,” Burt said.

“Oh, Burt, you having one of your nightmares?” Sophia asked, wanting to be mean.

The noise increased steadily. Sophia ran with Burt to the nearby street.

It was not one of Burt's nightmares. It was real. The traffic was halted; people stood outside their cars; children bicycled and roller-skated to the scene. A long convoy of brown, canvas-topped trucks loaded with soldiers in battle dress helmets, boots, and rifles with bayonets fixed was rolling down the street.

Sophia screamed over the roar. “What is this?”

Burt, too, was amazed, but realizing that she was frightened, he said, “Don't worry. The governor must have called up the Guard. They certainly aren't here to harm anyone.”

The crowd stood as if frozen in confusion. They did not cheer the soldiers as a liberating force, because they did not know who the soldiers would help. And the soldiers did not wave and greet the crowd. With the grinding and groaning of the motors, Sophia felt that machines were in control.

The long convoy rolled away. Sophia stood with Burt, not knowing what to think. She did not like the angry feeling rising in her. Was the guard there to force her to swallow nine Negroes at the point of a bayonet?

Finally she said, “I'll bet all this is to get those Negroes into Chatman.”

“Surely, Sophia, it doesn't take the army to get nine kids into school.”

“You sound as if it's just a simple matter, an everyday affair.” She tried to control the rising anger she felt at Burt.

“I should think it's not a matter for the U.S. Army.”

Burt's calm reasonableness angered her more. “Forget it, Burt. By now, the whole world knows what you think.” She quickened her step, and left Burt behind.

The sound of the television in the study scared her more. The governor already was speaking:

… I have asked Judge Pomeroy to issue restraining orders to delay integration at Chatman High School. I am also asking Negro parents to keep their children home.… Outsiders bent on preserving the white way of life, are pouring into our city.… Blood will flow in the streets if Negroes try to integrate.… Therefore, I have called in the National Guard to protect our citizens and property.…”

Sophia listened and all the anger and frustration she had felt in the past days combined with the terrible fear that the governor's words provoked. She rushed to her father, “What's happening to us?” The tears gushed forth and she clung to him sobbing. “There're soldiers out there, in
our
streets … everybody's against
us.”

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