37
“Help, please help! The Klan’s got Sonny and they’re going to hang him!” It was Sonny’s sister Sally dressed as a princess and crying her eyes out. She collapsed into Jenny’s arms in the living room. “We were on our way over in our costumes but Sonny was lagging behind. When they spotted us, they thought he was following me. They yelled, ‘There’s one now!’ and chased him down. I got scared and ran, but Sonny tripped and fell in front of Mr. Lee’s house, and that’s where they grabbed him!”
Jenny held the poor girl. “Where’s the sheriff?” she demanded. No one knew.
All the adults gathered around the front door or stared out the window at the spectacle of a group of twenty or so men covered in white robes and hoods. “Maybe they’re just dressing up for the party?” said someone feebly.
Queenie was running around the yard in circles, barking and acting hysterical. Truman, Nelle, Big Boy, and all the children heard the ruckus and ran to the stone wall to see what was going on. They peered over the top and saw a group of men with torches leaning over something in the road in front of Nelle’s house. To Truman, it looked like a bunch of ghosts with dunce hats milling about.
“I’d best go tell A.C. what’s going on,” said Nelle, concerned. She quickly scrambled over the top and the boys followed. “This looks like another case, Sherlock,” whispered Big Boy.
But Truman knew it wasn’t. “Hush, Big Boy. Even Sherlock might not be able to get out of this mess . . .”
They snuck in through Nelle’s back door. “A.C.?” Nelle called out.
There was no answer. The house was dark except for a single light coming from her parents’ room.
“A.C.?” She peeked in, but the bedroom was empty. “Where are they?”
“Over here,” whispered Big Boy.
Nelle and Truman found A.C. in the living room, which was lit only by the torch light coming from the street. He stood, silhouetted in the frame of the open front door, dressed in his undershirt and pajama bottoms.
“A.C.? Where’s Mama?” asked Nelle.
“Hiding” was all he said. He motioned for her to stay put, then walked slowly down the front steps toward the mob, careful not to startle anybody.
“A.C.!” Nelle hissed.
Her daddy peered over his shoulder and saw the kids in their costumes. “This isn’t the time for fun and games, children. Let me take care of it.”
A.C. made his way across the front yard to the fence. It was deadly quiet except for the sounds of the torches burning and the whimpering of a boy.
He waded into the middle of the costumed mob and not a word was spoken. They simply stepped aside.
Nelle couldn’t stand it. She followed him out into the street. Truman fretted; he still hated himself for the last time he’d abandoned her.
“Oh, shoot. Stay here, Big Boy. No sense in all of us getting killed.”
He made his way across the front yard, his Fu Manchu hair floating behind him. He caught up to Nelle and wrapped his hand around hers. “I’m coming too,” he whispered.
She nodded and they both snuck up behind A.C.
Some of the men stared at these bizarrely costumed kids and seemed unsure what was happening. Someone shoved Truman as he passed. He stumbled and looked up to see a gigantic hooded person who sniped, “Nice party, maggot.”
Even with the hood, Truman knew it was Boss.
What caught his attention more, though, was the man dressed in green robes blocking their way: the Grand Dragon.
The Grand Dragon stood his ground, his arms crossed. The man’s eyes glared at A.C. from deep within his hood. Behind him, on the street, was a messy pile of boxes, all painted silver. Truman noticed the boxes moved, and he spotted two round holes cut out in the box closest to them. He heard a whimper coming from inside it.
Truman and Nelle saw the cardboard cubes were wired together to form a costume: a childlike robot. The robot was struggling to get up but couldn’t because the boxes made his arms and legs too stiff to bend.
“Now, A.C., this don’t concern you,” said the Grand Dragon. “You’re a respected man ’round these parts; let’s keep it that way.”
“Step aside, Mr. Henderson,” said A.C.
“It’s Catfish,” whispered Nelle to Truman.
The Dragon flinched. “This is one of those Negros that boy invited to his party. Do you really want them mingling with your children?”
Truman suddenly realized he had gone too far. To do things differently was one thing. To upset the order of Monroeville was another.
“I do,” said Nelle as she stepped in front of A.C.
Truman sighed and also stepped up. “Me too,” he said, holding tightly to Nelle’s hand. “Plus, it’s my party.”
“Our party,” said Big Boy behind them.
Queenie growled at the Grand Dragon from behind Big Boy.
The Grand Dragon glared back at all of them.
“You heard the children,” A.C. said.
For a tense moment, they just locked eyes. Then, without a word, A.C. calmly stepped around the Grand Dragon and reached down to offer a hand to the robot. One of the robot’s arms reached up to meet his hand. It was painted black.
“Help me!” the robot whimpered.
A.C. grabbed one arm and Nelle and Truman quickly grabbed the other, and they helped the robot to its feet. A.C. removed the tape and wire that held the cardboard head on.
He finally yanked it off, and there was Sonny Boular, white as a ghost, tears streaming down his face.