We leave before
the sun has fully come up.
Aunt Bee talks the whole way
about how this year
is going to be different.
Our schools have been slow
to desegregate, she says.
But the government
cracked down this year.
About time, too, is what I say.
She says she’s expecting
protestors, so we’ll have to
be careful on our way in.
On a street that leads up
near the elementary school,
we pass a whole group of people
carrying signs and yelling.
They don’t move off the road,
so Aunt Bee drives real slow,
winding around them
like she’s done this
sort of thing before.
They hit our car as we drive past.
Every smack is so loud
it makes me jump.
The signs say things like
STOP THE RACE MIXING and
RACE MIXING IS COMMUNISM and
GO BACK TO AFRICA, LANGLEY & KIDS.
Oh, for God’s sake,
Aunt Bee says.
She says a few more words
I’m not supposed to repeat.
Charlie looks back at me
with big eyes.
And then we’re past them
and pulling into the
school parking lot and the
sun is staring at us,
like it’s determined
today will be a good day.