The Lions of Little Rock (6 page)

10

BEHIND THE GRIN

Mother and Daddy started arguing again on Sunday. Mother was frying hamburgers on the stove when she said to Daddy, “States do have rights, you know. Those politicians in Washington can't be telling us how to run our schools.”

Daddy bit his lip. He was grating carrots so briskly, I was afraid we would find fingers in the salad. “The schools have already been closed almost two weeks. The students are the ones who are suffering.”

“If the governor gives in, what's next?” Mother asked. “Negroes at the swimming pool?”

Daddy shrugged. “They're already sitting at the front of the bus. And you still manage to find a seat.”

“Richard!”

“It's not right to keep the schools closed, Maurine, and you know it.”

At that moment, the back door flew open and David burst in. I squealed and dropped the bowl of potatoes I was mashing. “You came home!”

“Hi, Marlee,” said David, and he gave me such a big hug, he picked me up off the ground.
David always wore a dazzling smile, which transformed him from a nice-looking guy into a movie star.

“Classes going well?” asked Daddy.

“Never better,” said David. But his eye twitched just like Daddy's did when he was lying. He popped a tomato from the salad into his mouth. “Where's Judy?”

“Hi, David,” said Judy, coming into the room.

“Hey, sis!” David grinned. “Wanted to tell you the university's going to offer correspondence classes to all the kids without school.” He took a spoon and swiped a bit of mashed potato. “Needs more salt,” he told me. Then to Judy, “Thought you might be interested.”

“Correspondence classes?” asked Judy.

“Yeah,” said David. “They give you a list of assignments, and you send your work in. The professor grades them and sends you the test and you send it back and—”

“And who's going to help me if I don't understand something?” asked Judy.

“I can help you, sweetie,” said Mother.

“Yeah, if it's English or history,” said Judy. “But what if it's chemistry?”

“If it's chemistry, I'm sure one of my colleagues in the science department would be glad to help you. In fact, maybe we could organize study groups for you and Margaret, at least until—”

“And Marlee could help you with the math!” David teased.

“Wonderful,” said Judy as she carried the plates into the dining room. “I get to be tutored by my mother and my little sister.”

Daddy laughed.

It was a great dinner, even if the burgers were dry and the potatoes were salty and the salad didn't have any tomatoes because David had swiped them all. The whole family was together, and for an hour, that was enough.

After dinner, I pulled David into my room. “So how's it really going?” I asked.

“What?”

“Your classes.”

“Oh, great.” David picked at a piece of lint on his sweater.

“Come on, David.”

“What?”

“I can tell you're lying.”

He looked around, though there was no one else in the room with us. Then he sighed and sat down on the bed. “Promise you won't tell Mother and Daddy?”

“Course not!”

“It's awful. All those math classes I signed up for . . . well, I don't have the foggiest idea what's going on. The professor's talking in the lecture hall, and it's like he's speaking another language.”

That sounded awful. I mean, David has never been as naturally good at math as me (I'm not bragging, it's just a fact), but we'd had so much fun talking about all the things we were going to invent together. He was the one who'd explained what an engineer was and how they built things—like spaceships and satellites.

David shook his head. “If you were there, I bet you'd understand.”

“Me?” I asked. “No way.”

“Yeah, Marlee. I think you would.”

Then we heard Daddy calling, and David stood up. “Bye, sis,” he said. “It's up to you now to beat those Soviets.” He pasted his usual grin back on. “Now, remember, not a word to Mother.”

I nodded.

That night I lay in bed wondering how many other times David had grinned and fooled me too, even though he'd felt awful inside. The idea that my big brother sometimes felt not good enough was strange, and a bit scary. But the idea that he thought I'd be able to do those math classes, maybe work on a spaceship someday, well, that made me feel awful good.

11

THE TALISMAN

Pretty soon, it was the last weekend in September, the last weekend before our presentation. There was an election going on that Saturday, and both Mother and Daddy were in a bad mood. I think the grown-ups were trying to decide if they should keep the high schools closed or open them again. But of course they didn't say it that way. No, it was more like,
Do you think it's a good idea for whites and Negroes to go to school together?

That was kind of tricky, if you ask me. There aren't too many people in Little Rock who'd say yes to that kind of question. Mother and Daddy voted first thing in the morning, even before we cleaned the house. They didn't say how they voted, and I didn't ask.

But I thought about it. I tried to imagine what it would be like going to school with Betty Jean, since she was the only colored person I'd ever really talked to (if you call drinking a glass of tea a conversation). I tried to picture Betty Jean as a twelve-year-old girl, but I kept imagining a smaller version of her in a big flowered apron. It made me giggle as I vacuumed my room.

Soon as I was done cleaning, I ran out of the house to meet Liz at the zoo. We were going to go over our presentation one more time. I'd done my part at least twice for every animal in the zoo. I'd said my lines in front of the mirror at home, trying to maintain eye contact with myself. I'd even said my part for Judy, late at night, when Mother and Daddy were asleep. I'd done everything I could to prepare. I knew my lines perfectly. And I was still terrified.

Liz was late. I watched the lions, but they were just lying there, sleeping. I got more nervous every second I stood there alone, so I thought about all the ways Liz had taught me to relax.

One: take a deep breath.

Two: imagine all the people at school in their underwear. This didn't work too well. Just thinking about JT in his underwear made my heart beat way too fast.

Three: my good old friends the prime numbers. I'd actually told Liz about them, and she hadn't laughed. I'd reached 83 by the time Liz finally appeared. She was clutching a paper bag.

“Sorry I'm late,” she said. “I've got a surprise for you.”

“What?”

She reached in the bag and pulled out two small green turtles. Their claws scrabbled gently on her hand. “I got them at the variety store,” she said. “Let's have a race.”

“Liz,” I said, “we have to practice.”

Liz waved a hand in the air. “Marlee, there's one more rule of giving a presentation I haven't taught you yet.”

“What?” I should have brought a pencil to write this down.

“You have to know when you're done.”

“But I'm not done,” I said.

“You know your part cold,” said Liz. “Heck, I bet you even know mine too.”

I shook my head. “Let's go over it a few more times.”

“Marlee, at some point you just have to believe that you can do it.”

“Well, I don't.”

Liz sighed.

She was getting frustrated. This wasn't going to work. Any minute now, she'd give up and say she'd do all the talking after all, and I'd be incredibly relieved and incredibly disappointed. That's what Sally would have done.

But Liz wasn't Sally. Instead of giving up, she started looking around like she'd lost something on the ground.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Looking for a talisman.”

“A what?”

“A talisman. A good luck charm.”

Like she was going to find a gold amulet or a magic ring lying around on the ground amidst popcorn and peanut shells.

But after a few moments she said, “Aha!” and picked up a single black crow's feather. “You've seen
Dumbo,
right?” asked Liz.

I nodded. I'd seen the movie a bunch of times when I was little. I could relate to the little elephant with the big ears. He didn't talk either.

“Well, this is a magic feather. Put it in your pocket, and if you get nervous during the presentation, just touch it, and you'll be fine.”

“A magic feather?”

“Yeah,” said Liz.

“That's kind of silly.”

“Just try it.”

“Fine.” I held out my hand.

Liz placed the feather carefully on my palm.

It weighed nothing, just a wisp of air. The feather tickled my hand, but as for making me less nervous, nope, it didn't do a thing.

“Better?” Liz asked.

I nodded. I didn't have the heart to tell her no.

“Good.” Liz pulled out a small bottle from her pocket. “Because I brought nail polish so we can paint our names on the back of the turtles. That way, you'll know for sure that it was mine when it wins.”

So instead of working, we painted our names on the backs of the tiny turtles and let them run up and down our arms as we waited for the polish to dry. Then we raced the turtles across one of the large stones that made up the lion's den. My turtle won.

“Least we know for sure it was mine,” I said, and Liz laughed.

It was getting late, so we walked down to the ducks and let the turtles go. They slid silently into the murky green water and paddled away.

“That was really fun,” I said. At least it had taken my mind off the presentation for a little while.

“You'll be fine,” said Liz. “I'll bring the magic square book with me to school on Monday.”

“I'm still not sure I can do it,” I admitted.

“I believe in you,” said Liz.

“Thanks,” I whispered.

She put her arm in mine, and we turned to go home.

12

BLOOD LIKE A JEWEL

All Saturday evening and through half of Sunday, I got more and more nervous. I started pacing through the house, clutching my note cards. The third time through the living room, Judy caught my arm. “Your presentation's tomorrow, isn't it?”

I could only nod. I'd lost my voice. How was I going to find it again? I'd—

“Come on,” said Judy. “Let's go to the rock crusher.”

Though we lived in the city, our house was in one of the newer neighborhoods. There were still patches of undeveloped land only a few blocks from our house. The rock crusher was an old abandoned quarry. The open mine sometimes filled with rainwater, making a small pond, but mostly it was just hills and trees and lots of rocks.

David and Judy and I used to take picnics to the rock crusher, but I hadn't been there in ages. The pond was too shallow for swimming, so mainly it was a place for little kids to run around and collect rocks during the day. At night, sometimes teenagers would park there on dates or sneak off to drink beer. Mostly, though, there was no one around and the woods were calm and peaceful.

“Okay,” I said. I could practice there as well as at home. I started to gather up my note cards.

“Margaret said the old man who lives next to the rock crusher just got a horse,” said Judy. She plucked the cards out of my hands and handed me two apples instead.

The day was hot, so we walked slowly. Judy chattered on about the classes they had started broadcasting on TV for all the high school students. Eleventh grade was on channel eleven. Seven
A.M.,
history; seven thirty
A.M.,
algebra; eight
A.M.,
English; and so on. I knew she was going on and on to try to distract me from worrying, and even though I could see right through her, it kind of worked.

“When the classes first started, they were scary,” said Judy. “I kept thinking I was going to miss something and wouldn't be able to ask the teacher to repeat herself. Turns out, they keep it really basic, and it's pretty easy to follow along. I actually like the classes now. It seems familiar, a way to get to go to school after all.”

“Like the lions,” I said softly.

“What?” asked Judy.

“Like how the lions roar at night,” I said. “You'd think it'd be scary, but I've heard them for so long, it actually makes me feel safe.”

“You're right,” Judy said finally. “It's like the lions.”

We walked in silence for a moment. I felt for the black feather. Even though it didn't work, I still had it in my skirt pocket. It was a gift from Liz. JT had only ever given me his math book—and I already had one of those.

“Judy,” I asked, “you ever have a crush on anyone at school? I mean, last year when you got to go.”

“Yes,” she answered slowly.

“Who?”

She shook her head. “I'm not going to tell you.”

“I'll tell you who I like if you tell me,” I said.

“Fine,” said Judy. “Who do you like?”

“JT,” I admitted. I tried not to blush, but I think I did, just a little.

“Red's little brother?” Judy asked.

I nodded.

Judy laughed, but it was good-natured.

I pouted. “What?”

“Heard he's not the brightest.”

I shrugged. “Awful cute, though.” I waited for her to tell me who she liked, but before she could, a group of teenagers in cars pulled up in front of us at a red light. They were all honking their horns and yelling, and one boy even waved at my sister.

“Who's that?” I asked.

“Some stupid kids from school,” said Judy. “They've got nothing better to do.”

Most of the cars had signs in their windows:
HIGH SCHOOL STUDENTS AGAINST INTEGRATION; SUPPORT FAUBUS; CHRISTIANITY, NOT COMMUNISM.
One girl leaned out of the window and yelled at us, “Two, four, six, eight. We don't want to integrate!” Then the light turned green, and they drove off.

“Do all the students at Central feel that way?” I asked.

Judy shook her head. “Only the loud ones.”

She didn't say anything else. Pretty soon, we came to an open lot with a barbed wire fence. In the middle of the field was a gray horse. We crawled carefully under the wire and fed the horse the apples. I scratched her nose, and she looked at me with wide eyes as brown as Judy's and Liz's.

I stuck my hand in my pocket again, and this time when I touched the feather, I felt my fingers tingle. A surge of bravery swept over me, but I didn't trust it. I had to do something scary to test the feather, to see if it really was magic.

“I'm going to ride the horse,” I said.

Judy shook her head.

“Come on,” I said. “Just give me a lift.”

Judy held out her hands, and I stepped onto them. She lifted me onto the horse's back. The mare was very tame and stood still as I tried to arrange myself. I'd ridden a horse once or twice before at Girl Scout camp, but of course I'd had a saddle then. I sat straight up and grabbed her mane just like they did in the movies. The horse turned her head back to look at me, then continued to chew the last apple core.

I gave her a little kick, but I guess it was harder than I planned, because the horse took off so fast, I had to wrap my arms around her neck just to stay on. I could feel the horse's muscles moving under her skin. It was scary at first, but thrilling too, and pretty soon I was imagining I was a cowgirl, riding off into the sunset. No, an Indian. I could take the feather from my pocket and put it into my hair and ride forever.

The horse stopped when she came to the far end of the pasture. I slid off and rubbed her nose as I waited for Judy to make her way over to us.

“It was great,” I said. “You have to ride her too.”

Before Judy could answer, a man yelled out, “What are you kids doing with my horse?”

We looked up. In the next field, there was an old man in worn coveralls, clutching a shotgun. “Get out of there,” he yelled. “Now!”

We turned and ran, scrambling under the fence. Judy and I headed into the old quarry. After a moment, I realized I had cut my thumb on the barbed wire and stopped, shocked. It hurt, a lot, and I started to cry.

Judy stopped too and made me sit down on a large boulder. She took one look at my hand, then pulled out a handkerchief and wrapped it around and around, holding it tight. I kept sobbing.

“His name's Robert Laurence,” Judy said quietly. “He's really smart, and not that cute, but I like him anyway.”

I stopped crying, and we sat there in silence. My sister pressed her handkerchief into my thumb. I would have a scar, but I didn't care. One final drop of blood oozed out and sat on my fingertip like a jewel, a secret given to me by my sister.