The Lions of Little Rock (5 page)

8

A NEW FRIEND

The next day at lunch, Liz showed up with a schedule. “I've got it all worked out,” she said. “We have three weeks until our presentation. If we work Monday, Wednesday and Friday after school, and Saturday afternoons too, I think we'll be ready. Maybe. I hope.”

“Why are you two working so hard?” asked Sally when she heard about our plans.

I was wondering the same thing myself. Judy had told me Miss Taylor was an easy grader. We could probably wait until the weekend before and still get an A.

“Marlee is going to talk,” bragged Liz.

Oh, yeah. That was why we couldn't wait. I kept trying to forget that part. If the bribe had been anything but a magic square math book, it would have been so easy to refuse.

“Oh, really?” said Sally, as if that was about as likely as me jumping off the diving board. I suddenly wanted to do it, magic squares or no, just to prove her wrong.

Liz elbowed me in the ribs. “Tell her,” she said.

“I am,” I squeaked.

Sally rolled her eyes.

“Ignore her,” ordered Liz. Sometimes she could be as bossy as Sally herself. “Now, we just need a place for you to practice speaking aloud. The library's out, of course. It needs to be somewhere you feel comfortable, but where we don't have anyone else like a maid or an older sibling hanging around. You don't have a tree house, do you?”

I shook my head.

Liz thought in silence for a moment. A few tables over, JT shoved a whole slice of orange into his mouth. His bangs fell into his eyes as he started jumping around like a monkey, but somehow, he still managed to look cute.

“The zoo?” I suggested.

“Perfect!” said Liz. “You can talk to the animals.”

Great, I thought glumly. Just call me Dr. Dolittle.

We started the next afternoon in front of the gorillas. I watched the mother gorilla picking the bugs off her baby for a good five minutes before Liz cleared her throat.

“Okay,” said Liz. “Now I've prepared a few questions to get you warmed up.”

I gave her a look. This was sounding pretty stupid.

“Come on, Marlee. They're easy. Give it a shot.”

“Fine.” I crossed my arms and stared at her.

“What's your favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“Who's your favorite singer?”

“Buddy Holly.”

“I like him too. Did you see him sing ‘Peggy Sue' on
Ed Sullivan
?”

I nodded. That had been pretty neat.

“What's your favorite subject?” Liz continued.

“Math.”

“I knew that.”

“And the point of all this is?”

“To get you talking,” said Liz.

I hated to admit it, but her plan had worked. We'd just had a whole conversation.

The next day we met, we moved on to the elephants. Liz had me read part of the notes I had written up. Even though Ruth the elephant was the only one listening, my hands were still trembling.

“The Quapaw families had lots of traditions,” I mumbled. “The Quapaw—”

Ruth stomped her foot.

“Go on,” coaxed Liz.

“Fathers were really important to the Quapaw—”

Stomp. I paused again.

“Quapaw, Quapaw,” said Liz.

Stomp, stomp.

“Why is the elephant . . . ?”

Liz shrugged.

“Quapaw, Quapaw, Quapaw, Quapaw,” I said. Ruth stomped her feet so fast, it looked like she was dancing. Liz and I glanced at each other and burst out laughing.

It was fun after that. Singing to the seals and hollering to the herons. Liz always helped me “warm up” (like an opera singer) by asking me a few silly questions:

“Would you rather be a hippo or a rhino?”

“Rhino.”

“If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Peanut butter.”

“It's the night of the big dance. You're there with JT and—”

“I don't like JT,” I said.

“You give him his homework every morning,” Liz pointed out.

Okay, so I did.

“It's the night of the dance,” Liz went on. “Would you rather have a pimple on your chin or your forehead?”

“Forehead, of course,” I said. “I could wear my hair down and hide it.”

“Great,” said Liz. “Now it's your turn.”

“My turn to what?” I asked.

“Ask me questions.”

Actually, I wanted to. We'd been meeting for two weeks now, and she knew all sorts of random facts about me. I knew next to nothing about her, except that she was bossy and organized, and actually kind of fun. But when I tried to think up something witty or funny to ask, my mind went blank.

“What's your favorite color?” I said finally.

“Green,” said Liz. “Like the grass.”

“Who's your favorite singer?”

“Elvis Presley.”

“What's your favorite subject?”

“English,” said Liz. “But my mother wishes it were math.”

Interesting. Part of me wanted to follow up there, but there was something else I was dying to know. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because I like to see Ruth dance when you say ‘Quapaw.'”

This was hard for me. I'd always told her the truth—and she was turning it into a joke. “Seriously.”

For the first time, Liz was silent. Behind her, the giraffes chewed their cud. “I thought it might be hard always being quiet,” Liz said finally. “I thought you needed a friend.”

She was right. I did.

“I needed a friend too,” said Liz.

And I suddenly knew what Liz was—a cup of warm milk with a dash of cinnamon.

We stuck to the assignment for the rest of the afternoon, walking past the zebras and the flamingos, and finally ending up at my favorite place in front of the lions. There were two lions out that day. Both females, playing together, jumping over a log, batting an old pumpkin with their paws. I'd never seen them so active. We watched them a long time.

“Sometimes I feel sorry for them,” Liz said suddenly.

“Why?” I asked. “They look like they're having a great time.”

“Yeah,” she said. “And I know they get their food and everything, and if they get sick, a vet gives them medicine. But don't you think they'd rather be chasing a zebra across the savanna?”

“Probably,” I agreed.

“I like to listen to them,” Liz said.

“What?”

“At night. I like to listen to the lions roar.”

“Me too.” I'd never thought anyone else did that. I wondered where she lived. I wondered if she'd ever invite me to her house. Should I invite her to mine? Wasn't that what friends did?

“When we first moved here, the roaring used to scare me. But now, I find it . . .” Liz paused.

“Comforting?” I suggested.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

And for the first time, I understood what Judy was saying about finding someone who shared interests with you. Someone you can sit quietly with. For the first time, I thought I might understand what it was like to have a real friend.

9

THE FOOTBALL GAME

By mid-September the Supreme Court had decided that integration in Little Rock should proceed, but the schools still didn't open. For a while it seemed that with the high schools closed, there'd be no football too. But the public outcry was so great, the governor called the superintendent and told him to start up the football program again, school or no school. Daddy nearly turned purple when he heard this news. “They'll let their kids go without an education, but Little Rock won't stand for no football?”

Mother shrugged. She and Judy weren't fans, so they didn't care either way. It was certainly strange that football seemed more important than school, but I was glad they had decided to continue the football program. Friday night football games were something Daddy, David and I had always done together.

Even though he was upset, Daddy called David and asked if he wanted to go to the first game with us. David was actually just down the road at Little Rock University, but he was living in one of the dorms. Mother thought it was a waste of money when he could have stayed at home, but Daddy had had so much fun when he was in college, he wanted his son to have the same experience.

David was busy (having fun I guess), so I'd asked Liz to join us. She was going to meet us at the game, and I was so excited I couldn't help bouncing up and down on the front seat. Elvis's “Jailhouse Rock” came on the radio, and Daddy winked at me and turned it up louder. Mother was always telling us to turn the music down.

Liz was waiting for us by the gate. She yelled, “Marlee!” when she saw me and ran to give me a hug.

“Hi, Liz,” I said, and grinned.

Daddy held out his hand for Liz to shake. “You must be the history partner,” he said.

She took his hand and shook it hard. “You must be the English teacher.”

Daddy laughed.

“Did Marlee tell you she's going to talk in front of the whole class?” Liz asked.

Daddy glanced at me. “No, she didn't.”

“Liz!” I hissed.

“You have to tell people,” she said. “That way you can't back out.”

Daddy laughed again.

“When Marlee's ready to tell me, I'm sure she will,” said Daddy. “Now, who wants something to eat?”

Daddy bought us popcorn and hot dogs for dinner. We gobbled them down and went to find seats in the bleachers. Every time one of the Central players made a good play, we screamed and waved homemade tissue-paper pompoms in the air. Daddy laughed and went off to talk to a colleague from work.

JT was sitting a few rows in front of us. He was wearing a Little Rock Tigers varsity jacket (probably Red's) and tufts of his blond hair were sticking up as if he'd forgotten to comb it. I had an overwhelming urge to go and slick it down.

“Staring at the back of his neck isn't going to make him turn around and say hello,” Liz said finally.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Oh, come on,” Liz said, laughing. “This is the perfect opportunity.”

I gave her a look. “The perfect opportunity for what?”

“Well, you can't just talk to animals forever. We're giving the presentation to our class. Which is made up of people.”

I didn't like where this was going.

“And JT is in our class.”

Before I could protest, Liz pulled me up and practically pushed me down the bleachers. “Go talk to him.”

I glanced back at her. She grinned and gave me a thumbs-up. Maybe I could do this. All I had to do was say hello. I took one step forward, then another. I was wearing my cream sweater and the pleated skirt, which was really cute and—

I kicked over someone's Coke bottle, leaned over to try to catch it before the glass broke, slipped, almost fell headfirst down the bleachers and only managed to save myself by grabbing onto JT's jacket, which I pulled halfway off his shoulders before I finally landed at his feet.

“Oh, hi, Marlee,” JT said, like girls threw themselves at him every day of the week. (Who was I kidding? They probably did.) “Enjoying the game?”

I nodded and struggled to my feet.

“Sit down,” JT said. A big burly guy with slicked-back hair moved over to make room for me. He was wearing a T-shirt and leather jacket, and I didn't know him from school. He was probably one of Red's friends, and he smelled funny, like a warm beer.

I sat down between them. I was so nervous, all I could think about was the smear of ketchup on my cream sweater. It must have happened when I fell. At least Red was playing in the game, so I didn't have to sit next to
him
.

“I'm really glad you stopped by,” JT said. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Finally! After all those math problems, he was going to ask me on a real date. “What?” I said, looking up at him expectantly. It was the first time I had ever spoken to him. I thought about batting my eyelashes, but he'd probably just think I had popcorn or something in my eye.

“It's about the homework,” said JT.

The homework. Okay. Maybe he really wanted me to tutor him. I could live with that. Liz would say it was good speaking practice and—

“You're getting all the problems right.”

Well, of course I am. I thought that was the point.

“You can't do that. See, if I get them all right on my homework, but I don't do well on the tests, Mr. Harding is going to get suspicious. I need you to throw in a couple of wrong answers here and there.”

Get more wrong? He could just do the homework himself if he wanted to get more wrong.

“Do you like the movies, Marlee?” He looked at me with big, smoky blue eyes.

I nodded.

“I do too,” JT said, “but Mother won't let me go unless I keep my grades up.”

If I helped him, maybe someday he would ask me to come along.

“So what do you say?” JT cooed. “Will you help me out?”

I nodded again.

“Great,” he said, and grinned. “See you on Monday?”

I smiled, stood up and practically ran back to my seat. At least I didn't trip on anything this time.

Liz patted me on the back when I returned. “There you go, you did it!” she cheered.

“Liz,” I said, “all I said was ‘what.'”

“That's something.”

“And I nearly fell into his lap.”

“Yes,” she said. “But you did it
gracefully
.”

We both started to laugh, harder and harder, until my stomach started to hurt, and Liz wiped tears from her eyes.

“You two sound like a pack of hyenas,” said Sally. She was walking up the bleachers with her mother behind her.

“Who are your friends?” Mrs. McDaniels asked.

“You know Marlee,” said Sally.

“Yes, of course.”

“And this is Liz, she's new at school. Liz, this is my mom.” Sally waved her hand in introduction.

“Hi,” said Liz.

Sally's mother gazed at Liz intently for a moment. “I've heard a lot about you, Elizabeth.”

Liz blushed. “Sally's been real welcoming to me.”

“Glad to hear it.”

A woman in a large white hat, sitting a few rows behind us, waved in our direction. “Well, it was nice to meet you,” said Mrs. McDaniels. She headed up the bleachers, but Sally sat down with us.

“What did you tell your mother about me?” asked Liz. I knew her well enough now to hear the annoyance in her voice.

“Nothing but the truth,” said Sally. She flipped her hair, then smoothed it down. “Does my hair look okay? In a minute I'm going to talk to JT.”

“Oh,” said Liz casually, “Marlee already did that.”

Sally turned as red as the ketchup on my sweater, and I had to force myself not to start laughing again.

It was dark when we drove home. “You know,” Daddy said quietly, “I like that Liz girl.”

“Me too.”

“Are you”—he paused—“are you really going to speak during that presentation?”

“I think so,” I said.

Daddy patted me on the shoulder, and when I glanced at him, I could see the pride in his eyes.