IT WAS STRANGE HOW THE SUMMER SEEMED TO END THAT NIGHT EVEN though it was only the Fourth of July. Me and Frita slept inside for the rest of the night, and in the morning Pop called the Wilsons and they came over and sat around our little kitchen table to discuss the whole thing. Even Terrance came, and he’d never been to my trailer before. Not even once.
“I just don’t understand why you spoke to Mr. Evans in the first place,” Mr. Wilson said, looking hard at Frita. “You know better…”
I’d never felt so bad in my entire life.
“I talked her into it,” I said. “Because I used to be scared of Terrance, but after we talked, I wasn’t so scared anymore.”
Terrance shook his head. “It’s not your fault, Twerp.”
Then Frita said, “I knew I shouldn’t have done it.”
Her momma said, “No, you shouldn’t have,” but she sighed like she was tired instead of mad. “Something ought to be done,” she muttered, studying her empty coffee cup.
Pop got up and poured some more. “Not much to be done about the Klan,” he said. “Can’t stop them from existing. Maybe there are some things people ought to be afraid of.”
That sounded right to me, but Mr. Wilson frowned.
“There’s always something to be done,” he said, looking from me to Frita and Terrance. “We just need some Peace Warriors to stand up to them. Isn’t that right, kids?”
Pop gave me a real curious look, but Mr. Wilson kept talking.
“When a grown man threatens a little girl,” he said, “he does it because he thinks he can get away with it. He thinks that little girl will be too scared to do anything about it, and that everyone she tells will be just as scared. Only this time he picked the wrong little girl.”
Frita sat up straight. “That’s right,” she said, “because me and Gabe have been getting brave all summer. Gabe’s practicing for the fifth grade.”
Terrance snorted, but Mrs. Wilson gave him a look, so he kept his mouth shut. I glanced over at Momma, but she just looked worried.
“What do you think we should do?” she asked.
“Let’s storm their trailer,” Terrance said. “No one’s going to threaten my little sister.”
Mrs. Wilson scowled. “What would that accomplish?” she asked, one hand on her hip. “Then they’d storm our house and we’d have to fight back…”
“Well, we can’t just hide out,” Terrance said. His hands were balling up into fists, but Mrs. Wilson rested her hand on his arm.
“That’s not what I’m suggesting,” she said, turning to the rest of us. “How about this. Mr. Wilson is preaching at a rally in Hollowell for Jimmy Carter at the beginning of August. He could say something then. We could gather all of our friends and neighbors and ask them to stand with us to remind people that America is about freedom for everyone. Not just white people. We’d be sending a strong message to Carl Evans and anyone else in the Ku Klux Klan.”
Mr. Wilson nodded in agreement. “No one’s going to hide from this,” he said, looking at Terrance. “Not this time.”
Momma took a deep breath. “I don’t know…,” she said, but Mr. Wilson smiled real gentle.
“I know you’re afraid,” he told Momma, “But if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that people will do anything if they think no one’s going to stand up to them. As soon as they’ve got a crowd against them, they’re not so brave.”
Momma looked over at Pop, but he was swirling the coffee in his coffee cup.
“How would they get the message?” Pop asked. “They’re certainly not going to come to the rally.”
“Actually,” Mrs. Wilson said, “there’s almost always someone who shows up from the other side. They don’t make themselves known, mind you, but they show up. It’s human nature to be curious. Regardless,” she added, “they’ll hear about it. People talk and the newspaper will cover the story. We might even get on TV if we have a large enough turnout or if Jimmy Carter shows up.”
“You sure we won’t be stirring up trouble?” Momma asked. “It’s not like Mr. Evans did anything, and we can’t prove he’s in the Klan. Maybe he just said that to scare Frita.”
“Isn’t that enough?” Terrance asked.
For once no one corrected him.
Mrs. Wilson took Momma’s hand. “If someone wants to take our children’s security away from them, don’t you think we should do something about it?”
That’s when I remembered Pop’s words from the day at the catfish pond.
Do you want to let someone take something from you that you can never get back again?
Pop looked at me like he was thinking the same thing, then he nodded real slow. “You’re right,” he said at last. “What can I do?”
Mr. Wilson grinned just like Frita. “You could stand up with me when I give that speech,” he said. “Maybe say a few words to the crowd.”
Pop’s eyes went wide. I knew he’d meant what could he do with his hands—like building signs or platforms. He glanced at Momma. “I’m not exactly…I mean, I’m not so sure what I’d say is all, and…”
It was the first time I’d ever seen Pop look scared.
“Pop! You could tell that story about Jimmy Carter,” I said. “The one you told me.”
“That’s perfect,” Mr. Wilson said. “Gabe told me all about it.”
He winked, and Frita hopped up and down.
“What about me and Gabe?” she asked. “What can we do?”
This time all the adults answered at once.
“You can stay out of trouble!”
Even Terrance nodded like he agreed.
Frita told me later that meant they were uuu-nanimous.