The Lions of Little Rock (17 page)

34

MAIL, MEASLES AND MORE

My thirteenth birthday was January 27, 1959. Daddy gave me a pink purse, Granny sent me ten dollars, David gave me a new satchel for school, Judy sent a card
(Happy Birthday, Little Sis! Hope you have a great day. Send me a piece of cake!)
and Mother gave me a silver letter opener. “I noticed you're getting more mail,” she said. I guess she meant the WEC flyers and the letters from Judy, though those were usually postcards. Still, it was a nice gesture.

“Look,” Mother pointed out, “I had your name engraved.”

Sure enough,
Marlene Nisbett
was written on the blade. I didn't have a middle name. David had one. Judy had one. By the time I came along, I guess my parents were both too busy to pick one out.

“Did I ever tell you I named you after Marlene Dietrich?” Mother asked.

No, she hadn't.

“She was my favorite movie star. So glamorous. Even as a baby, I knew you were someone special.”

Suddenly, having no middle initial didn't seem quite so bad. I ran my finger over the engraved letters and slipped the letter opener into my new purse along with the black feather from Liz.

While my talking experiment was going well with Sally and the other kids at school, I still couldn't figure out how to speak to Mother. The problem was, we hadn't had a conversation in so long, it seemed like we didn't have anything to say. So we didn't talk, and by not talking, we made it even worse.

It was like a repeating decimal. You can divide 10 by 3 for as long as you want, but all you're going to get is 3.33333 with ever more 3s after it. There had to be some way to finish the problem. Daddy and I talked after dinner while we did the dishes, and once I caught Mother watching us, envious, as if she were trying to figure out the easy flow of conversation she and I could never catch.

The next day, I didn't feel quite right. I dragged myself through school, determined to show off my new stuff (Nora liked the letter opener, Sally liked the money), but when I got home, Betty Jean took one look at me and ordered me up to bed. I didn't complain. Not even when she brought me a bowl of chicken soup and ordered me to open my mouth.

Betty Jean pulled my lower lip gently and looked at my gums. “Yup, white dots. Girl, you got the measles.”

She was right. The next morning, I had a fever, cough and fine red spots all over my body. All I wanted to do was sleep.

Everyone else had had the measles, of course. Mother and Daddy and Betty Jean a long time ago, and Judy and David a year or two before I was born. But I had a bad case—my eyes turned red, and I had to lie in the dark in my room hour after hour.

Miss Winthrop stopped by one afternoon, a few of her blond curls escaping from the scarf she'd tied over her head. “Thought you could use some company,” she said. “Nothing worse than sitting in the dark alone. I brought some WEC flyers for us to fold to keep our hands busy.”

I felt well enough to sit up and help her for a while. Betty Jean brought up the radio from the kitchen, and it felt like a little party, until we heard the news. February 3, 1959. There was a small plane crash in Clear Lake, Iowa. Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and J. P. Richardson, a.k.a. the Big Bopper, were all aboard. There were no survivors.

Miss Winthrop gave a little gasp, and I thought she was going to cry. We didn't fold anymore, just listened to the radio play “La Bamba” and “Chantilly Lace” and “Peggy Sue” over and over again.

When Miss Winthrop left, my fever got higher and higher. In the evening, Mother called Dr. Agar, our family doctor. He brought his black bag and pulled out his stethoscope. It was cool on my back. He gave me a lollipop, like I was a baby. I was too tired to lick it, so I put it on my dresser as he turned to talk to my mother.

“There's isn't much I can do for her,” he said. “Measles has to run its course. Just try to keep her comfortable.”

That night I dreamed of flying and plane crashes and Judy stealing my lollipop. In the morning, I woke up more tired than when I went to sleep. But I was thirsty, and no one came when I rang the little bell Betty Jean had put next to my bed, so I pulled on my robe and crept down the hall.

Daddy had already gone to work, but Mother was sitting at the table, the paper open in front of her.

“Mother?”

She jumped and sat up quick, like she was a burglar and I'd caught her stealing.

“Marlee, you should be in bed.”

“I'm thirsty.”

“I'll pour you a glass of tea.”

I sat down at the table, tired by my walk down the hall. Mother went to the fridge. There was a big article in the newspaper about the plane crash and Buddy Holly. Underneath it was another smaller article:
Closed Schools in Virginia Reopen; School Crisis in Little Rock Drags
On
.

Mother handed me a glass of tea and followed my gaze.

“Ever since I was a little girl, I've been proud to live in Little Rock. Proud to be from the South. But this . . . it's been going on too long.”

I held my breath.

“Frankly, I don't care who she goes to school with anymore. I just want Judy to come home.”

Me too. “We should do something about it,” I said finally.

“What can we do?”

I went back to my room and brought out the box of flyers Miss Winthrop and I had been folding. I handed one to Mother. It said:

Saying what you think is as important as thinking
it!

Speak out for public schools!

I sat down and started folding, and after a moment, so did Mother. We didn't say a word, but I couldn't help thinking maybe this was it. Maybe this was the way Mother and I would finally connect. Working on a project together had turned Liz and me into friends. Maybe it would work with Mother too.

35

MOTHER GETS INVOLVED

I was home sick for most of February. Liz called once or twice a week, pretending to be “Lisa, from math class.” On Valentine's Day, Little Jimmy showed up on our front porch, with his skinny legs and his old bike. I was in my old pink bathrobe when I opened the door, which was kind of embarrassing, but Little Jimmy smiled at me like I was wearing a ball gown.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi.”

“I brought you your school assignments.” He handed me a page, torn out of his notebook, that listed all my work.

“Thanks,” I said. And for the first time I noticed that his large eyes were a pretty golden-brown color like a caramel candy.

He turned to go, and I suddenly called out, “Liz says hi too.”

Little Jimmy smiled.

“You won't tell anyone?” I asked.

“Of course not!” said Little Jimmy. “Feel better, Marlee.”

That night, I searched through all the papers and books he had brought, looking for a card or paper heart, but I didn't find one. I was a little disappointed.

It was early March by the time I was well enough to go back to school. When the day finally came, I was excited. “Ready to go, Daddy?” I asked.

“Mother's going to take you today.”

“Why?”

“I'm going to be subbing at your school,” said Mother.

“What?”

“The school board came up with the idea of using the high school teachers as substitutes at the schools for the younger students,” explained Mother. “They get qualified substitutes, and the school system saves money, since they're paying us regardless.”

“You two can take the car,” said Daddy. “I'll ride the bus.”

Now, I love my mother. I was glad she had helped me fold the flyers. But the only thing I could imagine that was worse than being in junior high was having Mother come with me to junior high.

“Some of the other teachers are against it,” Mother continued as we drove to school. “I guess they think it's beneath them to teach the younger grades. Or maybe they're afraid of maintaining order. But I'm thrilled to finally have something to do.”

I nodded and prayed that no one would see us together. Soon as we arrived at school, I waved to her. “Bye!” I said. “See you at home.”

She headed off to the office to get her assignment.

I went on to Miss Taylor's class and found my seat. Sally leaned over to me. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Was that your mother I saw outside the school this morning?” Sally asked.

“No,” I lied, and got up to sharpen my pencil.

JT caught up with me at the sharpener. “Marlee!” he exclaimed. “You're back.”

I sighed. “Hi, JT.”

“Am I ever glad to see you,” he said. “I tried cheating off Sally, but she's not so good at math, and Mr. Harding said if I don't get help soon, he's going to have to hold me back.”

“JT,” I said, “I told you I'm done helping you.”

“Okay, okay. Can't blame a guy for asking. One of these days you'll change your mind.”

Not in a million years.

The bell rang, and we both took our seats.

Miss Taylor still wasn't there. I can't believe I didn't realize what was going to happen, but I didn't, not until the door opened and she came in.

My mother smiled at me. She actually waved, like she was on stage or something. I tried to sink down into my seat and disappear.

“Hello, class. My name is Mrs. Nisbett.” She wrote her name on the board in big block letters. “Miss Taylor is out sick with the flu, so today I'm going to be your teacher.”

JT raised his hand. “Aren't you Marlee's mother?”

“Why, yes.” Mother looked pleased. “Yes, I am.”

What I wouldn't have given for another case of the measles.

In the cafeteria, the talk was all about Sally's upcoming birthday party. She was going to have it at Troy's Roller Rink and had invited everyone. When I'd had my fill of discussing cake flavors and party dresses, I got up and walked over to where Little Jimmy was writing in his notebook. “Hi,” I said.

“Hi,” he said, and blushed.

“Thanks for bringing my homework by my house.”

Little Jimmy shrugged. “No problem.”

“Want to come sit with Sally and Nora and me?” I asked.

He glanced at Sally and Nora, then back at me. “Why?”

“Well,” I started, “it's a big table, and Sally always sits at that end, and I'm in the middle, but there's no one at the other end. And you're here by yourself, and I just thought, why use two tables when one would work?”

“Oh.”

“And I wanted to say thank you for bringing by my homework,” I finished.

“You mentioned that,” he said.

“So will you?” I asked.

“Sure.” He smiled and picked up his notebook.

I took his bagged lunch and moved it to the far end of our table.

“Marlee, what are you doing?” asked Sally.

“Inviting Little Jimmy to join us for lunch,” I said.

“Why?” asked Sally.

“If it's a problem . . . ,” said Little Jimmy.

“No,” I said. “Sit down.”

He did.

Sally rolled her eyes and continued her discussion of party decorations with Nora.

Little Jimmy kept his eyes on his notebook. He still had his pen in his hand, as if he couldn't decide if he should talk to me or continue writing. I remembered what Liz had said to me. “Don't worry,” I whispered. “You don't have to actually talk to me. Just sitting here is enough.”

Little Jimmy smiled and put his pen down. His eyes crinkled, and I knew what he was doing. He was saying the words in his head. I wondered what was going to come out.

Just then, Mother came over to our table.

“Marlee, do you know Mrs. Dalton's boy, that nice James-Thomas?” asked Mother.

Of course I knew JT. But Mother pointed him out like I'd never seen him before. He turned, as if he could feel her gaze, and waved. She grinned in return.

“Yes,” I said finally.

“Well,” said Mother, “he told me he was having trouble in math, and you're so good at it, I thought you could tutor him. He said that would be swell and to meet him today after school in the library. I've got some paperwork to do anyway, so I'll wait for you, and then we can drive home together.”

What? I'd finally told him
no
, once and for all, and my mother had gone and told him
yes.
I was so mad, I couldn't think straight. The words bottled up in my throat like people running from a fire, all trying to rush the door at once.

I glared at her, hoping she would notice something was wrong. But she just looked pleased with herself.

“Well, I have to go get ready for my next class. See you after lunch, Marlee!”

Little Jimmy watched her go. Then he turned back to me, with his big brown eyes. “Are you okay, Marlee?”

I shook my head.

The final bell rang, and it was time to go to the library. I trudged there, my feet as heavy as my heart. JT was sitting on a table waiting for me. “Hi, Marlee!”

I opened my own math book and did the assignment. Furiously. Pressing the pencil down so hard, it broke. Twice. Each time I had to get up to sharpen it, I told myself I could just walk out of there. I could flee. I wasn't chained to the desk or anything. I could just go to Mother and tell her everything, tell her I had liked JT, but now I didn't, and I didn't want to do his work anymore, but I needed help telling him no, and she wasn't helping. JT kept whistling the entire time, flipping through the pages of a comic book.

When I was done, I picked up the paper and threw it at him. But paper doesn't throw very well, unless you fold it into a paper airplane, which I hadn't done, so it just kind of slid into his lap.

“Thanks, Marlee,” said JT as he placed the homework in his comic book and closed it. “See you around.” And he started to stroll out of the library.

I hated him. I was going to tell him so. I was going to throw words like daggers at him, I was just figuring out which ones to say.
If you ask me to do your homework again, I'll tell Mr. Harding. I'll get my big brother to come beat you up
and—

My mother walked into the library. “You kids done already?” she asked.

“Yes, ma'am,” said JT.

“Well then, come on. I'll drive you home.”

I sat in the backseat as far away from JT as possible, pressing myself into the side door. Neither he nor Mother seemed to notice. Mother chattered the whole way home, and JT laughed at all the right spots. When we reached JT's house, Mrs. Dalton was waiting on the front porch with a tray of lemonade.

JT climbed out first, and Mother turned back to me. “Get out, Marlee, and let's go say hello.”

I shook my head.

“Marlee!”

I got out of the car. Mrs. Dalton looked like a delicate bird wrapped in a silk scarf, huddled up in a wicker chair on her porch. She acted glad to see us, though she didn't say much. The lemonade was too sweet, and the cookies were dry and crumbly. Mother and JT chatted and laughed, while I got quieter and quieter.

“Are you going to Sally's party next month?” JT asked.

I nodded.

“What's this?” asked Mother.

“Sally McDaniels is having a birthday party at the roller rink,” explained JT. “I wanted to ask if Marlee would go with me.”

What? Like a date?

“Oh, that would be lovely,” said Mother.

No, it wouldn't. It would be terrible.

But even Mrs. Dalton nodded. “I'd be happy to drive them there and pick them up.”

“Then it's decided,” said Mother.

No one even asked me what I thought. And I didn't say a thing.