IF SIGNS AND PORTENTS WERE TRUE, THEN MY DREAM REALLY WAS one, because Mr. Evans’s words were like the sticky strands of a spiderweb. Even though they seemed tiny, we knew they could spread everywhere until we were caught and couldn’t get out. Look how they’d spread so far. First, he’d called Frita a nigger and only my pop had stood up to him, so he’d kept right on going, and now the whole town of Hollowell was getting involved because Mr. Wilson was going door-to-door asking everyone to come to the rally.
Me and Frita walked into town one afternoon about two weeks after the Bicentennial, and even though we were trying hard to stay out of things, that wasn’t easy to do. We were getting ice cream cones at the general store and everyone we met had something to say.
“Did Carl Evans really say that to you?”
“How come you kids are stirring up trouble?”
“Who could believe it? In 1976!”
Frita was real polite, but I could tell she was tired of listening to them.
“Let’s walk down the old dirt road,” she said once we’d eaten our ice cream. I waited for the familiar twist in my stomach, but this time it didn’t come.
“Okay,” I said. Me and Frita turned off Main Street and started walking. We walked real slow and I didn’t even listen for eighteen-wheelers or check to see if the cows were loose.
“Want to go on the rope swing?” I asked after a while, but Frita didn’t have her swimsuit.
“Want to build a tree fort?” she suggested.
“Nah. Too hot.”
“Want to finish our lists?” Frita asked.
We hadn’t talked about our lists since the fireworks.
I shrugged. Truth was, I’d been thinking on things. I’d come to a decision a week ago and the only reason I hadn’t said anything was because I was gathering my courage.
I opened my mouth, but it was all dried up.
“Frita,” I said at last, “I don’t think it’s working.”
Frita stopped walking. “What’s not working?”
“The lists,” I said. I thought about what she’d said that day I squished the centipede. “You were right. I’m not getting any braver. Guess I’m one of the chicken ones.”
“That’s not true,” Frita said. “I was just mad when I said that. You’ve gotten lots braver. You’ve jumped off the rope swing a bunch of times and you kept Jimmy all summer.”
“Yeah,” I said, “but those aren’t the ones that counted. I’m still plenty scared of the fifth grade. I’ve thought it over and I’m staying behind, no matter what.”
Frita’s face fell. “But you said you wouldn’t be scared of mean teachers anymore, and we planned out what you’d do if you got locked in the toilet again…”
I drew pictures in the sand with my foot.
“But I’m twice as scared of Duke,” I said at last. “I’ve had two bad dreams where he was burning stuff on the playground and yelling for you to come out. What if he does something real bad?”
“He won’t,” said Frita. “Duke is a scaredy-cat. Besides, we’re having the rally, remember? You won’t be scared of him after that. We’re gonna stand up to those Evanses—me and you, our mommas and daddys, and Terrance…”
Frita was on a roll, but she might as well have been talking to herself because it wasn’t going to make any difference. All I could hear was Duke’s voice in my head.
“No one’s going to clap for Frita Wilson if I can help it.”
All this time I’d thought he hated Frita because she could pummel him, but now I knew different. Now I knew what real hate was, and it was the scariest thing of all, even if I hadn’t put it on my list.
I shook my head. “I made up my mind,” I said. “And you got to stay back with me because you pinky-swore it.”
Frita’s face fell. I suspect she’d forgotten all about that.
“Gabe,” she said, her lip quivering. “I can’t. Momma and Daddy would never let me, and I don’t even want to. You got to move up with me. You got to!”
“Nope,” I said. “I won’t. No one can make me.” Then I corrected myself. “No one can make us, I mean.”
But Frita shook her head. She looked sadder than I’d ever seen her.
“I won’t stay back,” she said at last. She looked at me real hard. “Guess you’ll have to learn to be brave without me.”
I could hardly believe it. Now we’d both broken a pinky swear.
We stood face-to-face on the old dirt road. Then Frita turned in the opposite direction.
“Guess I better go,” she said. “Momma will probably be calling me in for dinner soon.”
It was hours yet before dinner, but I shrugged. I couldn’t decide whether I was mad or sad or just plain terrified.
“Okay,” I said at last.
Frita got set up to run, but she looked back over her shoulder.
“Call me when you find your courage,” she told me. “Then we’ll move up together, okay?”
I didn’t say a word. I knew she wanted me to say “All right,” like I’d change my mind and everything would go back to normal, but I didn’t want to change my mind. I wanted Frita to change hers.
Frita waited a long time, but I didn’t say anything, so she took off.
“See ya, Gabriel King,” she said. I watched her run until she was a tiny speck in the distance, and soon as she was gone, I missed her something terrible.
“See ya,” I hollered at last, loud as I could. My eyes were brimming over and I waved super hard and whistled my extra-loud whistle, but it was too late.
I knew she couldn’t hear me.