The Lions of Little Rock

Judy was quiet on the bus ride home.

  “I’m sorry we made you feel left out,” I said.

  “What?”

  “I mean, when David and I were talking about the schools being closed. I know you’re suffering the most. Being sent away from home and living with Granny and . . .” I tried to think of something positive. “But at least you have Robert. I bet you spend a lot of time with him.”

  Judy picked at a thread on her skirt. “He broke up with me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “When?”

  “Last week. He asked me to give back his jacket and everything.”

  “Oh, Judy, that’s awful.” She started to sniffle, and I patted her back like she was a lost puppy.

  “He wanted to give it to Lou Ann.” Silent tears started rolling down her checks like the rain on the windows of the bus.

  “Is this a good time to tell you I always thought he was kind of goofy looking?”

  Judy snorted.

  “And he smiled like a raccoon,” I added.

  Judy hiccuped as she tried not to laugh. “See, Marlee?” she managed finally. “You always know what to say to make me feel better.”

  “You’re the older one. I thought that was your job,” I said.

  “Shut up,” she said.

  Sometimes it’s good to have a sister.

  39

  ROBES IN THE CLOSET

  Every Sunday afternoon in April I spent at Mrs. Terry’s house. The first week when I arrived, there was a young woman in the dining room balancing a toddler on her lap as she tried to type a letter. The child was fussing.

  “I’ll take her,” I said.

  “Thank you.” The woman stood up and handed her daughter to me. “I’m Mrs. Knowlton. Her name’s Jackie.”

  “Hi, Jackie,” I said. “I’m Marlee.”

  The child screamed.

  “I’ll take her back,” sighed Mrs. Knowlton.

  “No, let me try something.” I scooped up Jackie under her arms and spun her around in a circle, just like my father used to do with me.

  Jackie was so surprised, she stopped crying. I stopped spinning.

  “More! More!” she cried.

  I started spinning again. Jackie laughed.

  “Hey, Miss Winthrop,” called Mrs. Knowlton.

  Miss Winthrop poked her head in the room.

  “Got any more volunteers like her?” she said, pointing at me. “’Cause if you do, we’ll have these schools opened by next week.”

  Jackie and I kept spinning, spinning, until we fell down, laughing in a heap. The room spun, but the compliment remained. Since I was the youngest, I’d always wanted a baby sister or brother. I cradled Jackie, and she put her head on my shoulder as I walked around the parlor. When she was finally asleep, I put her down on the couch and went back to the dining room.

  “You got her to take a nap?” her mother asked.

  I nodded. “I sang to her.”

  “What?”

  “The times tables,” I said.

  Mrs. Knowlton laughed.

  I watched Jackie every week after that, and once she was asleep, I’d sit down with the others at the huge, dark oak table in the dining room to help with paperwork. Mrs. Brewer was usually there, talking on the phone, and Mrs. Terry, of course, and Miss Winthrop and Jackie’s mother, and Mrs. Dalton, silently putting flyers into envelopes.

  I looked at the flyer. It had a picture of a child with a suitcase in one hand and said Will this be your child next fall? Over 1,000 children had to leave Little Rock to go to school this year. There is no substitute for Public Schools.

  “My brother was telling me about the Act 10 thing,” I said as I started folding. “Is the WEC going to do anything about it?”

  “I believe,” said Mrs. Brewer, “that Mr. Shelton—he’s a colored teacher at Horace Mann—is working on filing a suit with the NAACP.”

  “Yes,” said Miss Winthrop. “And Vice Principal Powell from Central is going to join him.”

  “Until the suit is filed and the courts rule on it,” said Mrs. Brewer, “public employees will have to sign or not sign as they see fit.”

  Mrs. Terry walked into the room then and placed a large pile of mail addressed to the WEC in front of me. “Marlee, would you mind opening these?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Thank you. Just put them into a pile and let me know if there’s anything you think needs my immediate attention.”

  I nodded and pulled my silver letter opener out of my purse. Miss Winthrop hummed softly as we all worked. The first few letters I opened were just routine correspondence, bills, membership applications, stuff like that. But the next three . . . “Some of these aren’t very nice,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” Mrs. Terry asked.

  “If you go out today, you will be hit by a car and killed,” I read.

  Mrs. Terry plucked that letter from my hand.

  “There’s also Say good-bye to your loved ones and I thought you were a good Christian woman. I’m ashamed of you.”

  Mrs. Terry took both of those too. “I’m sorry, Marlee. The threats go in a separate file. I’m afraid this is not an appropriate task for you. Perhaps you could go back to stuffing envelopes?”

  Miss Winthrop took over the mail-opening duties, and we all went back to work. But no one hummed anymore. I wanted them to think I was mature and grown-up, but I couldn’t help asking, “All those letters. Aren’t you scared?”

  “Of course we’re scared,” said Mrs. Terry. “But you can’t let that stop you.”

  “It’s like the phone calls,” said Mrs. Brewer. “The first one is awful, but by the hundredth, well, you hope those people are all just talk.”

  “What is it your husband does again when he gets the calls?” asked Miss Winthrop.

  “Oh, sometimes he reads them poetry. Or he starts talking to them in French. Or singing an aria from an opera. Mr. Brewer has quite a good voice.”

  We kept working in silence for a while. “Another one for your file,” said Miss Winthrop.

  I glanced at the letter before anyone could stop me. You and all the others who think like you should be tied to a car and dragged down Ninth Street, as did happen once before.

  “What’s it talking about?” I asked.

  Mrs. Terry sighed. “The lynching. The last one in Little Rock was in 1927.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “No,” Mrs. Knowlton said. “She’s too young to know.”

  “She’s helping us,” said Miss Winthrop. “I say that makes her old enough.”

  Mrs. Terry sighed. “A colored man, John Carter was his name, was taken by a mob of people. No one did anything. Not the police or anyone watching. Nobody even tried to save him. They hung him and shot him and dragged his body down the street and then burned him. It happened at the edge of the Negro district, on Ninth and Broadway. This house is only eight blocks away. From my front porch, I could see the glow of the fire and hear people screaming.”

  We were all silent then. I heard the ripping of the paper as Miss Winthrop opened the envelopes. The squeeze of the sponge as Jackie’s mother wet a stamp. Someone cleared her throat, and I looked over to see that it was Mrs. Dalton. She hadn’t said a word the whole time.

  “I’m here, helping,” she whispered, “because once I found white robes in my husband’s closet. I was too ashamed to ask him what they were. I guess I knew. And I was too scared to throw them out. But when the schools were closed, I realized I had to do something.”

  “If your husband is part of the Klan,” Miss Winthrop said, “aren’t you worried he’ll find out you’re helping us?”

  “Yes, I was.” Mrs. Dalton shook her head. “But according to him, this is just a ladies group.
Harmless. We won’t accomplish anything.”

  The baby woke up then, and I was glad to get up and give her a bottle. I even started whispering the times tables again. I might have claimed it was to soothe her, but really, it was so I didn’t have to think about lynchings and death threats and robes in the closet.

  40

  DYNAMITE

  One evening in early May, I finished my homework and came into the kitchen to find my parents sitting at the table with a man I didn’t recognize. He wore a suit and hat, and it wasn’t until I saw his stamp that I realized he was a notary. And I remembered that Mother and Daddy, as teachers, were both state employees.

  “Act 10?” I asked, once the man had left.

  Mother nodded. Daddy’s face was pinched and pale.

  “Did you list them all?” I asked.

  “Yes,” said Daddy.

  “Even the Arkansas Council of Human Relations?”

  “Of course. I’m a member.”

  Daddy got up and left the room.

  Mother and I looked at each other. “Will he lose his job?” I asked.

  “I hope not,” said Mother. Then she went to the sink and started washing the dishes from dinner.

  The next day was Tuesday, and I was meeting Liz at the rock crusher. She wasn’t there when I arrived. I waited awhile, then put my satchel on the big rock and started to climb the oak tree. It wasn’t as scary this time. If I concentrated and held on real tight, I could almost do it without counting. Almost. I was halfway up when I heard a voice call out, “Hey, Marlee!”

  I was so surprised, I nearly fell out of the tree. I looked up.

  There was Liz, looking down at me. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “I didn’t know you were there.”

  “You climbed up without watching me this time.”

  “Yeah, I guess I did.”

  Liz grinned at me.

  “You’re in a good mood,” I said, pulling myself up to the branch she was sitting on.

  “Yeah,” said Liz. “Curtis asked me to a baseball game this weekend. We had a great time. Shirley was there too and she just about fell off the bleachers when she saw I was there with a ninth-grader!”

  “Wow,” I said. But the truth was, I was worried. If things were going so much better for Liz, how much longer would she need me?

  “Bring anything to eat?” Liz asked.

  “I’ve got some apples,” I said. “But I left my satchel on the rocks.”

  “Never mind,” Liz said.

  “No, I’ll go get them.” I started to climb down. It was a long way. I was just jumping down from the lowest branch when I heard something, like someone biting into an apple.

  “Hello, little mute girl.”

  Red and JT were sitting on the stone table. My satchel was open, and they were eating my apples. I was glad I was on the ground, because I suddenly felt so weak, I didn’t think I’d have been able to hold on to the branches.

  “We followed you,” said JT.

  I wasn’t sure if they knew Liz was here or not. She was a long way up. I wasn’t sure she could hear us, but I had to warn her not to come down.

  “Why, JT and Red,” I said, as loud as I could without yelling. “What a surprise to see you here!”

  “Where’s your friend?” Red asked.

  “I came here by myself.”

  “Why were you up in the tree?” JT asked.

  “I was looking at the view,” I said.

  Red went over to the tree and looked up. My heart started beating furiously. But the branches were thick with spring growth. “Sure there’s not anyone else up there?”

  “I think I would have seen them if there were.”

  I held my breath and willed Liz to be silent. I recited the times tables myself, until finally Red looked away from the tree and turned his piercing blue eyes on me.

  “I heard you stopped doing my brother’s homework,” said Red.

  JT was eating my apple intently without looking up.

  Suddenly, I wasn’t just scared. I was angry too. “You going to beat me up, Red?” I asked. “You going to beat up a girl?”

  Red didn’t answer. “Anything in the bag?” he asked JT finally.

  JT rummaged inside. “Two dollars.” He handed the money to his brother.

  Something fell out of the tree.

  We all turned and looked. An acorn. Then another one. And the sound of something—or someone—coming down the branches.

  No. No, Liz. Stay in the tree. I have it under control. I don’t care if they steal what’s left of my birthday money.

  “What was that?” Red asked.

  I shrugged, my heart beating so hard, I was sure they could see it through my sweater.

  JT and Red walked over to the tree and looked up.

  “You see anything?” asked Red.

  “Nothing,” said JT.

  “I’m going to climb up and make sure.”

  At that moment, two more acorns fell. Red grabbed a branch, about to swing himself up, when a squirrel jumped down, spooked, and jumped on Red’s head. “Ahh!” Red screamed. “Get it off of me!” He fell to the ground.

  JT was laughing too hard to do anything.

  “It’s just a squirrel,” I said. I went over and picked up my satchel. “I’m leaving. You two can stay and play with the rodents if you want.”

  I turned and started walking, praying they would follow me. After a moment, they did.

  “I know you’re a race mixer,” said Red. “We’ll catch you at it one of these days.”

  I didn’t say a word.

  I guess it made him mad that I didn’t respond, because he grabbed the satchel from my shoulder and tossed it into the forest.

  It took reciting all twenty-five prime numbers under one hundred, but I didn’t get angry. I didn’t say a word. I just left the path and went to get my bag. It had fallen into a little ditch, full of weeds and tree roots and ferns. On the way back to the path, I tripped on a rock and fell down. “Ow!”

  JT came over to me. “You all right, Marlee?”

  “Why do you care?” I asked.

  But he held out his hand to help me up, and I took it.

  That’s when we realized it wasn’t a rock I had tripped over. It was a box. An old box. Labeled DYNAMITE.

  “Wow,” said JT. “Red, come look at this!”

  Red crashed through the underbrush, his boots much better suited for tramping through the weeds than my saddle shoes.

  “Dynamite!” he breathed. “Holy moly, JT, your girl’s good luck after all.” Red reached to take the lid off the box.

  “Don’t touch it!” I screamed. “Do you want to kill all of us?”

  “Don’t you know nothing? Dynamite’s stable. It won’t go off unless there’s a charge of some sort. Besides, you tripped over it. If anyone was likely to kill us, it was you.”

  I stood there and watched as he pulled the lid off. There was a whole layer of dynamite inside, nine or ten sticks. He whistled. “Must have been here since this place was a working quarry. Tonight, we’ll have some fun for sure.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying,” said Red, “we’ll find your little friend and show her whole family what we think of niggers who try to pass.”

  “Red!” said JT.

  “Daddy’s right,” said Red. “You are a little coward.”

  JT said nothing.

  “Give me your bag,” said Red.

  I didn’t move.

  “I said, give me your bag.”

  I just stared at him.

  Red came over and grabbed it off my shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” I yelled.
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  “We,” said Red, “are taking this dynamite home.” He started placing the sticks of dynamite in my satchel. “JT!” he barked. “You gonna help me or not?”

  JT glanced at me, then at his brother. He started placing the dynamite in the bag.

  I turned and walked off. Slowly at first. I figured, if I ran, it’d be tempting them to follow, like dogs after a fox. Also, my knee hurt, and my tights were ripped. I’d have to tell Mother I’d lost my school satchel, and we’d have to buy a new one. I didn’t dare go back to find out if Liz was still in the tree. Hopefully, she’d snuck down and had already made it out another way.

  I stumbled home, unsure what to do. I’d have to tell my father about the dynamite. I’d have to warn Liz. We’d thought we were safe at the rock crusher because it was so isolated, but clearly we were wrong.

  When I got home, Betty Jean was waiting for me in the kitchen. She looked me over, from the twigs in my hair, to my ripped skirt, to my bloody knee. Finally she waved a piece of paper in the air. “I have a message for you,” she said, then handed me the paper. “From your friend Lisa.”

  I took the paper and read it: I’m home and I’m fine. Call me.

  “Thank you, Betty Jean.” That was one thing off my chest. Liz was okay. I’d give her a quick call and jump in the shower and . . . Then I noticed Betty Jean was still looking at me, her arms crossed, a frown on her face, and I started to think I wasn’t going to get that shower. “I don’t think I’ve ever met your friend Lisa, have I?”

  “No,” I said quietly. “I don’t think so.”

  “Funny thing is,” said Betty Jean, “her voice sounded awful familiar. I couldn’t figure out who it reminded me of at first. But then it came to me. Elizabeth Fullerton. She’s in youth group with Curtis. Nice girl. Pretty. Sometimes goes by the name of Liz.”

  Oh, no. She knew.

  There was a glass of iced tea and a piece of pecan pie on the kitchen table.

  “Now, sit down, Marlee, and start talking.”

  41

  CONSEQUENCES

  I had to tell the whole story three times. Once to Betty Jean. She made me call Mother and Daddy when I was done, and after they rushed home, I had to tell them everything again. Then Daddy called the police.