The Lions of Little Rock (18 page)

36

FACING FEARS

Tuesday afternoon in the rock crusher, I felt pretty down when I met Liz. “I've been doing so well!” I moaned. “Speaking up, saying what I mean. And then my mother had to come to school and ruin it all!”

Liz and I were leaning against the big stone in the meadow and looking at the sky. “I don't understand why you're so upset. I thought you kind of liked JT.”

I'd never told her what JT had called her when he'd found out she was colored. I didn't see a reason to now. “That was ages ago,” I said. “JT is a jerk.”

“Maybe you like someone else?” asked Liz. “Little Jimmy?”

I laughed. “He's four feet tall and as skinny as a bean pole.”

She shrugged. “People grow. I always thought he was kind of nice.”

He was kind of nice. On the float, asking about Liz, I'd thought he liked her too. And he'd brought me my homework on Valentine's Day. Maybe Liz was right. Maybe I really should give him a second look.

“Come on,” said Liz. “It's a beautiful day. Tommy has an extra-long practice. Two hours. There must be something I can do to cheer you up.”

It was a beautiful day. It was only March, but it was warm and the field was full of wild crocuses, jonquils and Indian paintbrush. When I was little, Judy and I would spend every afternoon like this in the rock crusher, picking flowers and wading in the creek.

“Let's catch crawdads,” I said.

“Ugh,” said Liz. “Isn't there something else you want to do?”

I turned and looked at her in surprise. Liz was usually game for anything. “What's wrong with crawdads?”

Liz blushed. “I don't like creepy-crawly things. Spiders. Roaches. Crawdads.”

I had to keep myself from grinning. It made me feel good to know that there was
something
she was afraid of. “Isn't it important to face your fears?” I asked.

“Do I have to get in the water to catch them?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “That's the best part.”

“Then, no.”

“You weren't afraid of turtles.”

“They are reptiles. With a nice hard shell. And no scary pinchers.”

“Come on, Liz.”

She looked at me a long time. “What are you afraid of?”

“Talking.”

Liz laughed. “Besides that.”

I thought for a moment. “Heights.”

“Fine,” said Liz. “I'll catch those crawdad thingies with you, but then you have to climb a tree with me.”

“Facing our fears, huh?”

“You know it.”

And because I realized I wasn't thinking about JT or Mother or the roller-skating party anymore, I agreed.

Which is how we found ourselves with our shoes and socks off, holding our skirts up as we waded in the creek. The water was cold, but the sun was warm on our backs. “My toes are freezing,” complained Liz.

I ignored her. “What you have to do is flip over a rock or old log or something. Anything where a crawdad might like to hide.”

I flipped over a rock. There was a huge crawdad, six inches long, just sitting there. I scooped it up with an old tin can we had found in the woods and brought it over to show Liz.

She took one look at it and shivered. I grinned and dumped it back into the stream.

“Your turn now,” I said. Liz turned over a rock or two but found nothing.

“You need bigger rocks,” I said, and pointed to a small boulder a few feet away.

It was heavy, so I helped Liz flip it over. “I see one!” she exclaimed, and was so excited, she dropped her skirt in the water.

I handed her the can. “Scoop it up.”

“It might pinch me.”

“Put the can in the water, a few inches behind the crawdad, but far enough away that you don't scare it.”

Liz, moving slowly, placed the can into a crevice between two stones directly behind the crawdad. I handed her a stick. “Now wiggle the stick in front of the little guy. Pretend you're a fish or a snapping turtle or something.”

Liz looked doubtful, but splashed the stick in the water right in front of the crawdad. Just like I knew it would, it moved a few steps backward.

“Again,” I said. “Keep him moving back into the can.”

Liz didn't breathe as she wiggled the stick. The crawdad moved into the can. Only one little pincher was peeking out.

“What now?” whispered Liz.

“Now you pick it up.”

Liz bent over and put her hands in the water. She reached for the can, and slowly drew it out of the water. She was so quiet, we could hear the crawdad scrabbling inside. “I got it!” she breathed.

“Not so bad, was it?”

Liz couldn't stop grinning. “Come on,” she said. “Let's catch some more.”

An hour later, it was my turn. We stood in front of a huge oak tree on the edge of the meadow. I looked up. “You expect me to climb this?” I asked.

“Hey,” said Liz. “I caught those creepy little things.”

“You liked it,” I said.

“Well, then, maybe you will too.”

I sighed. “What do I do first?”

“Reach up and grab that branch,” said Liz.

I did so.

“Now pull yourself up.”

I gave her a look.

“Just that branch,” Liz said. “You don't have to go any higher.”

So I pulled, and she pushed, and then I was up in the tree, my arms wrapped around the trunk. You'd think that after going up in an airplane, climbing a tree would be easy. But it wasn't. You can't fall out of a plane. There's a seat belt. And the wind blows, but it's outside, not trying to loosen your grip on the branches. I felt dizzy and closed my eyes and started to count . . . 2, 3, 5, 7 . . . Then I felt Liz's hand on my shoulder. “Open your eyes,” she said.

I did. I was only about five feet off the ground, but already I was surrounded by leaves and oak flowers. It was a different world. There were even a few old bunches of acorns from last fall, clinging to the branches.

“Are you all right?”

I nodded. And it was true. My heart was beating fast and I was scared, but I knew that feeling now. I'd had it before. When I did the presentation at school and when I got on the airplane, and both times I'd been okay.

“All you have to do,” said Liz slowly, “is watch my hands and feet. Put your hands where I put my hands. Place your feet where my feet go, and you'll be fine.”

I nodded.

Liz started to climb. I stared at her white lace socks and saddle shoes, and I watched where her right hand went (she had a bit of dirt under her thumb) and where her left hand went (there was a bit of old red nail polish on her ring finger), and I repeated times tables in my head until I was able to follow her. Pretty soon, we were high enough that I could feel the tree swaying back and forth in the wind.

“It's okay,” said Liz. “It's not going to blow over or anything.”

But I wasn't worried. “It's like flying,” I said. “The airplane rocks like that when you take off.”

“Isn't the view amazing?” Liz sighed.

I was still staring at her feet. Taking a deep breath, I gripped the tree tighter and wrenched my gaze away from her saddle shoes.

The view was beautiful. In one direction, I could see the large rock we liked to sit on, and in the other, the rolling Arkansas hills. The late-afternoon sun turned all the new light green leaves to gold, like King Midas had been walking through the forest.

“It worked,” I said. “You cheered me up.”

Liz didn't say a word. She didn't have to. We stayed in the tree a long time, watching the leaves and the squirrels and listening to the birds. Together.

37

THE ROLLER-SKATING PARTY

The week before the party, Mother and I went to Cohn's Department Store to buy me a new dress. I knew Mother was trying to be nice, but I would have preferred to have worn a hand-me-down from Judy and spent the money on a new package of graph paper, a box of pencils and a new protractor. The whole time we were at the store, I kept thinking,
I don't want to go with JT.
But what kept coming out instead was “Do you like this color?” or “Is this one too expensive?” I ended up getting a yellow dress with a full skirt that flew out like a buttercup when I twirled around. Mother said I looked beautiful. But I was disappointed I hadn't managed to say one real sentence to her, not one that told her how I was really feeling.

The night of the party, Daddy took my picture and wiped pretend tears from his eyes. “My little girl is growing up.” He sniffed, and I smiled as I waited by the window for JT to pull up.

It was raining, but finally an old gray Chrysler Windsor pulled up to the curb and JT walked up to our door. He had a suit on, a bit too big, but he looked nice, if only I didn't think about how he was a cheat and a racist. Daddy snapped one more picture, and we walked out to the car. I had my pink purse in one hand and Sally's present in the other.

JT opened the door, and we slid into the backseat. The car started moving, and I looked into the front seat, expecting to see Mr. or Mrs. Dalton. Instead, Red sat behind the driver's wheel.

My heart started beating in time with the windshield wipers, only twice as fast.

“You still friends with that colored girl?” asked Red at a stoplight.

I didn't answer. My stomach hurt as if my mother had dosed me with castor oil.

“Leave her alone,” said JT.

“JT's in looooooove,” teased Red.

“No, I'm not,” snapped JT. Then he looked at me, aghast. “I didn't mean . . .”

He needn't have worried. I certainly wasn't in love with him.

Finally, about ten hours later (for some reason my watch only said eight minutes), we turned onto Asher Avenue, and there we were. A neon sign blinked at us from the parking lot:
TROY'S ROLLER RINK.

“When's this stupid thing over?” asked Red.

“Nine,” said JT.

“Well, don't keep me waiting,” Red snapped. “I got better things to do than drive you two around.”

The car rolled to a stop, and we jumped out. Mrs. McDaniels was waiting for us at the door. “Welcome, Marlee, welcome, JT. Everyone's inside.”

When she said everyone, she wasn't kidding. In order to get the maximum number of presents, Sally had invited every single person in our class. There was a gift table by the door, so I put my present down and looked around.

I'd been to Troy's with my sister once or twice before, but never for a party. The rink was a large, open room with a hard wooden floor. There was a snack bar, where Mr. McDaniels was setting up a cake, and an organ in one corner, where old Mrs. Chapman, the piano teacher from down the street, was playing a polka. The strangest thing about Troy's was a huge quote painted on the wall. It read
The more you skate, the more you learn. The more you learn, the more you skate
. I could never quite figure out what that meant.

I sat down to put on my skates (I had to rent a pair since I didn't have my own), and when I was done, Sally and Nora skated over to me. Sally's dress was so pink and frothy, she looked like a piece of cotton candy. She had new white leather roller skates, and I couldn't help feeling a little envious. Nora was in lime green, the color all wrong for her complexion.

“Glad you made it, Marlee,” said Sally. “We're going to do the limbo later!” And with a flip of her hair, she was off.

JT rolled up to me then, in black leather skates, carrying a cup of punch. “For you,” he said with a little bow.

I nodded, took the punch and put it on the side of the rink.

“Oh, come on, Marlee,” JT pleaded. “Don't be cross. Let's skate.”

He took my hand and pulled me onto the floor, linking his arm through mine. I kept my arm stiff, standing as far from him as possible as we started to skate in circles around the room.

“Why don't you like me?” asked JT.

“Why do you care?” I asked.

“Maybe I want your good opinion.”

“Maybe you want help with your math.”

JT smiled. I could see a little bit of the golden child who got away with everything.

“I mean it, Marlee. What'd I do?”

I thought for a moment. What was the harm? I might as well tell him the truth. “You called Liz a name,” I said. “When we all found out she was colored.”

“You're upset because I called your friend a ni—”

“Don't call her that!”

“Gosh, Marlee, you're a square tonight. Defending your
colored
friends.”

“Why shouldn't I defend my friends?”

“Negroes are not your friends,” said JT. “They are trying to destroy our schools and—”

“Who told you that?”

“Red. And my father. They said—”

“Liz never did a thing to you. You liked her. Probably would have been trying to get her to do your English homework for you if she were still here.”

JT laughed. “Yeah. That sounds like me.”

We skated for a moment without talking, the polka music oompahing along.

Finally, JT shrugged. “Maybe you're right. I didn't much care last year when those nine students first started at Central. But then my father said it wasn't right. Red skipped school to make signs and protest. And Liz did lie to us! I don't like dishonesty.”

I snorted. “Don't seem to have a problem with it when it comes to math homework.”

“Yeah, well . . . I got no problem with Negroes, long as they stay in their place.”

“Which is?”

“Driving your car and shining your shoes and cleaning your house.”

“Liz is about ten times smarter than you. Why should she clean your house?”

“Marlee, you can't say stuff like that. People will call you a communist.”

“I don't care.”

“Well, I do. And my brother wouldn't say those things if they weren't true.”

“Really?” I snapped. “Red's a great scholar, is he?”

“Shut up.”

We skated in silence again. The organist switched over to a waltz, and the lights dimmed, but JT gripped my arm, and we kept skating. Little Jimmy was watching us from the side of the rink. I waved at him, but he just scowled and looked away. I suddenly remembered Judy had said waltzes were for couples. Did Little Jimmy think . . . “Are you still friends with her?” JT asked.

I said nothing.

“Red says you are, but I didn't think you'd—”

I nodded.

“But she's, she's . . . ,” JT sputtered.

“A Negro?” I supplied.

“A colored girl and a white girl can't be friends,” said JT.

“Says who?” I asked.

“Says everyone!” exclaimed JT. “That's why we go to different schools and churches, and . . . that's why the high schools are closed!”

“Then maybe,” I said quietly, “everyone is wrong.”

I finally dropped his arm and skated away from him, and it wasn't as hard as I'd thought it would be. JT drifted on, finally coming to a stop in the middle of the floor. Even with a frown on his face, he still looked handsome, and it irked me. Sally skated over to him and grabbed his arm, and he waltzed off with her.

I sat in a metal folding chair on the edge of the room until the song was over. My fingers were cold. I shouldn't have told JT about Liz. It had been reckless and foolish, and yet it had felt good to speak my mind.

I imagined a magic square to calm down, all the rows and columns and diagonals adding up to fifteen. Fifteen. How old I'd be in two years. A year older than Emmett Till was when he was killed. For the first time, the magic square didn't really work.

It was time for the limbo then. I threw myself into it, trying to stop thinking. Maybe because I'm small and short, I was good at it. Pretty soon, Sally and I were the only ones left. I'm pretty sure I could have won, but it was her party, so I tripped on purpose.

Sally got a bouquet of flowers as the winner, and I got a single rose as the runner-up, and Mrs. McDaniels made us take a victory lap around the rink so she could get some pictures.

“You know,” said Sally as we were skating, clutching our flowers, “I didn't throw away my hairbrush.”

“What?” I didn't know what she was talking about.

“The one I loaned to Liz. I know I said I did, but . . . it's a nice brush. I washed it in the sink, but then I thought, if I hadn't gotten lice yet . . .”

Had she overheard JT and me talking? Was she saying she was wrong?

“I just wanted you to know I hadn't thrown it away,” said Sally.

“But you said—”

“What you say with your friends is one thing,” she said. “How you really feel, that's another.”

Not with Liz, I thought. With her, I say how I really feel. For the first time, I felt a little sorry for Sally, that she didn't have a friend with whom she could do the same.

“Come on,” said Nora, skating up to us. “Let's go have cake.”

The organ lady played “Happy Birthday,” and we all sang, and Sally blew out the candles. While I was eating the sweet cake, I noticed the quote on the walls again:
The more you skate, the more you learn. The more you learn, the more you skate
.

It made sense this time. It was about practice. The more I talked, the better I got at it. The better I got at it, the more I wanted to do it. I'd been waiting for it to feel natural for me to talk to my mother, waiting for just the right moment. But maybe that was the wrong approach. Maybe I had to talk to her first, and then, after I did, maybe it would start to feel natural.

In any case, I knew one thing. I didn't want to ride home with Red. I had a dime in my purse and found the pay phone in the corner. Watching the numbers go around and around as I dialed made me dizzy. I wished I had a napkin or something to jot down what I was going to say, but there weren't any nearby, and I didn't have a pen anyway. I'd just have to figure it out on my own.

“Hello?”

Drat, it was Mother. I'd been hoping Daddy would answer the phone.

“Hi,” I said. “It's me.”

“Marlee?”

“Can you come pick me up?”

“Why?” said Mother. “I thought the Daltons were bringing you home. It's not even eight thirty.”

“I don't feel well.”

“Womanly troubles?” asked Mother.

That was her way of asking if I had cramps.

“Something like that,” I said. “I don't want to say anything to JT and—”

“Oh, of course not,” agreed Mother. “I'll be right there.”

I told JT I wasn't feeling well, and he didn't say a word. I wanted to tell Sally I was leaving early, but she was busy opening presents. I put my street shoes back on and went to wait by the door.

Little Jimmy walked up to me. “Why'd you come with JT?” he asked.

I shook my head. “It's too complicated to explain.”

“Oh,” he said, shifting from one skate to the other, like he wasn't really comfortable on them. “Well, I wanted to give you this.” He handed me a piece of folded paper.

I unfolded the paper. It was a page from his journal, dated February 28, 1959.
I'm planning to ask Marlee to go with me to Sally's skating party when she comes back to school. I hope she says
yes.

“But then I heard you were going with JT,” Little Jimmy said when I looked up at him. “So I never asked.”

“Oh, Jimmy,” I said. “I wish you had.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

A horn honked then, and it was Mother.

“Bye,” I said. “See you at school.”

“See you.”

I slid into the front seat, and Mother drove off before I could even figure out exactly what had happened.

“Hi, sweetie,” Mother said. “Are you feeling any better?”

I almost said
yes
or shrugged or made up some other lie. But then I remembered,
The more you skate, the more you learn,
and I thought about Liz and doing what you were afraid of, and I realized I'd never have a better chance.

“No,” I said.

“I'll get you a hot water bottle when we get home.”

I could let it go, or I could speak up. “That's not going to help.”

“What?”

I took a deep breath and counted 17, 19, 23, 29. “JT's been making me do his homework for him all year, and when I finally told him
no
because it was cheating, you made me do it again. And then Red drove us there tonight, and he hates colored people and eggs houses and is really creepy.” Once I started, I couldn't seem to stop. “And Little Jimmy was planning on asking me to go to the party with him, and I actually think I like him, but you set me up with JT first. And Sally still brushes her hair.” Okay, so that last bit didn't make sense without an explanation, but Mother didn't seem to notice.