New Boy (25 page)

"What are we going to do tomorrow?" I said.

"Meet back here," said Russell. "Same time, same station."

"How long do you think the store can hold out?" I said.

"Hard to say. Looks like they're losing money right now," he said.

"Have you noticed how we haven't seen many white people?" I said. Other than the whites who happened to walk by the store in the morning and a few white customers who had ventured inside, it seemed that white folks had decided to stay away from Woolworth's. Though the number of Negro students on the sidewalk swelled in the afternoon, whites could not be found anywhere outside. One white newspaper reporter did show up, a young blond fellow who talked briefly to a few of the students and then left. There were still only a few colored adults, none of whom I recognized, standing at the edge of the crowd, silently observing. A patrol car with two white police officers inside had been parked across the street all day, but they just sat there and watched us. It was clear that we were on our own.

"The whites are laying low," said Russell. "Just waiting to make their move. They aren't going to give up easily."

When the store closed at five o'clock Joseph and the other students emerged through the revolving door onto the sidewalk and were greeted by a cheering throng of students. The sun was starting to go down and it was getting cool, and everyone was standing close together. The crowd covered the sidewalk for half a block, the traffic on Main Street had started to pick up, and someone started to sing the spiritual "I'm Gonna Sit at the Welcome Table." Pretty soon everyone in the crowd was singing along and clapping and laughing, especially when they got to the line "I'm gonna tell God how you treat me." People were holding hands and their bodies were swaying back and forth, as in church. There was a feeling of strength surging through the crowd that was new to all of us. We were no longer bound by the chains we had inherited from our parents and we were setting ourselves free, free to turn our back on the white man, if necessary, free to live the way we wanted. It was a feeling that I knew I'd forget.

"This is going be a long struggle," said Joseph after everyone had quieted down. His tie was loosened at the neck and he sounded tired, like he'd been through an ordeal. "We need everybody to come back tomorrow and every day after that, until we get to sit down at this lunch counter just like the white folks. If we stay together, we can do it." Everyone cheered as Joseph and the others made their way through the crowd and down the side street. Sylvia showed up and followed Joseph along with Russell and me. When we got to the first of the five cars, Joseph stopped to talk to us.

"Let's meet here tomorrow morning at eight and follow the same plan. It looks like we could be at this for a while," he said,
shaking his head. "That store manager said they would
never
serve us. We gonna have to be
organized
to get through this." His voice was raspy, but he seemed determined. It was getting dark and the street was deserted, so we quickly said goodbye to each other. As the cars drove off, Russell and I walked up to Main Street and caught the bus back to our neighborhood. On the way, we sat silently in the back looking out the window at the shops along the street, which were closed. I kept thinking about returning to Draper on Sunday before the sit-in was over. I wanted to stay home to help Russell keep the protest organized. I realized that I had been naive about a lot of things. I had convinced myself that Woolworth's would give in right away and that Paulette and I would sit down at the lunch counter on Saturday afternoon and have a slice of chocolate cake and a glass of milk next to the white kids, and I could take the train back to Draper the next day feeling like a hero. But now I had to face the truth: the play was just beginning and the sit-in would probably go on for months. Maybe it would even, be going on when I came home from Draper for the summer. And I realized that Joseph and Albert and the other students who had volunteered to put themselves on the line were true heroes They were going to be showing up at Woolworth's every morning to sit at the lunch counter, day after day, missing their classes and their exams unable maybe, to even hold a summer job Now I was longing to return home just as I had once been so desperate to leave and somehow I knew then that I would always feel that way yearning for home wherever I happened to be.

"Did you have dinner?" said Mom when I walked in the back door. She was standing at the stove, and I could smell fish frying in the skillet.

"I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. We didn't want to buy anything to go from the restaurants downtown, since they won't serve us either, so we took up a collection and sent some volunteers out to a supermarket to buy peanut butter and jelly and bologna and cheese and some loaves of bread, and we made sandwiches for everybody. It was the best sandwich I've ever tasted." My mother gave me a long look. Dad came into the kitchen.

"Well, look who's here," he said. "How did things go today?" He had taken off his tie and his suit coat and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, and he sat down at the kitchen table as though he was ready for a full account, so I described it all to him. Dad listened closely and didn't seem surprised. "Sounds like they are gonna try to wait you out," he said.

"By the end of the day, we were singing and clapping and everyone was volunteering to help, promising to come back tomorrow, and there was this feeling that we could do
anything,
that the sit-in at the lunch counter was just the beginning, and if we stayed together like this, we could end segregation all over town. But, you know Dad," I said, "there was just one thing that bothered me."

"What was that?" he said, looking at me standing nearby. Mom also glanced at me before returning her attention to the stove.

"No parents showed up," I said. "Not just you and Mom. Not a single parent, even though we were trying to do something to benefit the whole Negro community. It felt like the parents had washed their hands of the whole thing. I don't understand it. I guess they didn't take us seriously. I was really disappointed." Dad didn't respond, and neither did Mom. Dad was looking at the sugar bowl and the salt and pepper shakers on the kitchen table with his head bowed. I was upset. Without saying any more, I walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway and called Paulette. Her mother answered.

"Mrs. Gentry," I said. "This is Rob Garrett. May I please speak to Paulette?"

"Hello, Rob," said Mrs. Gentry. "You're back from school?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said. "I came down for the protest at Wool-worth's."

"How did it go?" she said.

"Pretty good for the first day," I said. "Eleven college students
sat in at the lunch counter and stayed there until Woolworth's closed. A lot of students came downtown from high school and college to show their support. There was a big crowd of students outside of Woolworth's by the end of the day."

"So I guess you didn't have any problems?" she said.

"None so far," I said. I was wishing she would get off the phone and call Paulette.

"Well, best of luck to you," she said, and she called Paulette to the phone.

"Rob?" said Paulette. She sounded breathless. "I've been waiting for your call. Did everything turn out okay?"

"It was sensational!" I said, and I told her everything that had happened during the day, and the feeling of strength that seemed to emerge from the sheer size of the group. "It was amazing!" I said. "I had never seen anything like it before."

"I feel awful that I wasn't there," said Paulette. "But I'm glad you got to go."

"Me too," I said. "I wish I could stay home longer. It's going to be important to keep everybody together. It's great to have so many kids show up on the first day, but they have to be organized so they will keep coming back. Russell's going to have that on his shoulders, but maybe you can help him."

"I'll do whatever I can," said Paulette. "Maybe we can get Roosevelt to help."

"Oh, yeah," I said. "I didn't see Roosevelt at all. I guess his father cracked down pretty hard on him."

"Yeah," said Paulette, "we were in the same boat. Defy your parents and take the consequences or accept the fact that you're living under their roof and do as you're told. I decided to do what they wanted this time, but it won't always be that way."

"Well, if you and Roosevelt can help Russell with the organizing, that will make a big difference," I said. I was hungry and tired, but I wanted to arrange to see Paulette, and then I heard my mother's voice calling me to the dinner table. "I've got to get off," I said. "My mother's calling me for dinner."

"Do you have to, right now?" said Paulette. "We just started talking."

"What was that you were just saying about doing what your parents want?" I said. "I'll come by after dinner."

We had a quiet dinner in the kitchen. My parents and I sat around the table silently picking the bones out of our fish. I had a feeling there was something that was going unsaid, but I didn't know what it was.

"You know, Rob, just because we didn't come over to the demonstration today doesn't mean we aren't behind what you're doing. I had appointments with patients scheduled all day today and your mother had to teach school." He still looked embarrassed, and so did Mom, but I guess he was trying to apologize.

"Look, Dad," I said. "If you really wanted to come, you and Mom had plenty of time to make arrangements. You've known about this for over a month! As I said, I don't think you took us seriously. You thought we were just a bunch of kids trying to show off and get a little attention." I was still annoyed, but I had
said enough for the time being. "I'm going over to Paulette's for a little while after dinner," I announced. "I won't stay for long. I have to be back at Woolworth's at eight o'clock tomorrow morning." Dad nodded and looked at Mom, and they continued eating. I finished dinner and asked to be excused. I rinsed my plate and called Paulette to tell her I was coming over. As I rushed out the door, I said goodbye to my parents and they responded so softly I could barely hear them.

Paulette answered the door wearing a blue-and-red striped dress and the biggest smile. She looked prettier than ever. She took me by the hand and brought me into the living room and gave me a quick kiss and we sat down on the sofa, holding hands and cuddling. We were back together, gazing into each other's eyes, giggling as we recalled how Mrs. Braxton had introduced us, and how we spent New Year's Eve sitting on the steps in the kitchen with the cooks jitterbugging and the firecrackers popping outside. Even though her eye was crooked, it was now so much a part of her face, her beauty, that I couldn't imagine her without it. I put my arms around her and we kissed and it was as if I had never left. I wanted to stay with her on the couch, to hold her as I was doing, forever.

"What time does your train leave?" she said.

"Sunday morning, seven
A.M.
Same as before."

"Will I see you tomorrow?" she said.

"I'll do my best. My mother wants to spend a little time with me. I'm going to have to figure out when I can see you."

"How's school?" said Paulette. I told her about the honor roll
and McGregor nominating my paper for the history prize. In the excitement of making the arrangements to come home for the weekend, I had forgotten to give her that news.

"Oh, Rob!" she exclaimed. "That's wonderful! What an honor!" and she clasped her hands together and closed her eyes. "I hope you win. It would be so great if you won it."

"Is everything all right in there?" said a voice from the hallway, and then a tall, light-skinned man appeared in the doorway. He was wearing a dark suit, a white shirt, and a striped tie. He had a carefully trimmed mustache and dark eyes, one of which wandered a bit like Paulette's.

"Daddy, come in," said Paulette. "I want you to meet Rob Garrett." I went over and shook Dr. Gentry's hand as he looked me over carefully.

"Why, yes," he said. "We've heard quite a lot about you." He was smiling, and he glanced at Paulette. "You're the fellow who goes to school up in Connecticut."

"Yes, sir," I said.

"I was just speaking with—that is, I've talked to your father fairly recently," he said. "He's a fine man, a man of real character. You're lucky to have a father like him."

"I know," I said.

"Well, I've got to get something to eat and get to bed. I have a full day tomorrow." He extended his hand toward me and we shook. "Don't stay up too late yourself, young man," he said. "I know you have a busy day tomorrow, too." He left us and I turned to Paulette again.

"He's right," I said, taking her hand. "I only napped on the train and I'm exhausted, and I've got to be at Woolworth's by eight thirty."

Paulette nodded slowly, but I could see she didn't want to let me go. I leaned over to kiss her and I didn't want to let her go either, but finally I pulled away. On the bus ride home, I thought about her father. He was so dashing, as a lot of the doctors were.

When I got home the house was dark but the back door was open, and I let myself in. My parents were asleep so I washed up quickly, changed into my pajamas, and climbed into bed. As I closed my eyes, I began to wonder why even the few white people who had ventured inside the store had deserted it by the end of the day and why the skinny white guy with the bow tie had also disappeared. Slowly the veil of sleep fell over me, and I was one with the darkness.

"Robby. Robby, wake up," said Mom. I opened one eye. She was standing over me in a housecoat with her hand on my shoulder, gently shaking me. The bedroom shades were still down, but the sun was out and my room was filled with filmy light. "It's a quarter past seven. Russell just called. He's gonna be here in fifteen minutes. Your breakfast is ready."

I jumped out of bed, quickly pulled on my clothes, and washed up. Mom served me pancakes and sausage. She poured me a cup of coffee without asking this time, and I drank it fast, while finishing my pancakes.

"Where's Dad?" I said. After the unpleasantness of our conversation at the dinner table the night before, I thought he might at least stay around to wish us well and say goodbye.