Chapter Thirty-Five

THEY WERE NEARLY TO NO CREEK when Celia overheard Janice Richards, three school bus seats back, bragging to Norma Jackson and the cluster of girls beside her.

“So all I did was tell Ida Mae what I’d seen plain as day—Mrs. Swope goin’ down to the Tates’ one day with a satchel and another day with books—back and forth once, maybe two times in a week. Anybody’d know she was over there teachin’ that colored boy to read. I never had to spell it out.”

“But you heard what happened to her, didn’t you? You reckon Ida Mae told? You reckon she knows who’s who—in the Klan?” Peggy Sue Brown hoarse whispered.

“Doesn’t everybody? Anyway, Ida Mae probably didn’t tell a soul. There was a checker game goin’ strong in the back of the store the day I was in. How could I help it if half the men in the county was there?”

“Ha! You mean the Wishons and their like!” Norma touted.

“Well,” Janice giggled, “the good-looking one, anyway.”

“You think he might have told—?”

“How do I know who told what? She had no business goin’ down there in the first place—especially not after Rhoan Wishon warned her. He showed Ruby Lynne the light of day all right. We keep to ourselves and they keep to theirselves. That’s the way of things—my father said so—and Mrs. Swope best understand that.”

Celia listened till she couldn’t take any more. She pushed her way back to the seat in front of Janice, turned around so the bus driver couldn’t see, and spit in her eye.

“Ack!” Janice squealed. “You pig!”

“Better a pig than a traitor! Miss Lill opened her home to all—even the likes of you—because she cares about sharin’ Miz Hyacinth’s books with everybody. And you trot your prissy britches around tellin’ tales like a gossipy old lady, stirrin’ folks up to no good. What does it hurt you if Marshall learns to read? You afraid he’ll grow up and become mayor of No Creek? Afraid he’ll steal your daddy’s job and you’ll lose your shiny patent leathers? You’re slime, Janice Richards—slime lower than a slug, and anybody that has anything to do with you is slime, too. Doin’ what you did and gettin’ Miss Lill almost killed is near murder and like spittin’ on Miz Hyacinth’s grave at the same time. You shame us all!”

It was the longest speech Celia had ever made and she meant every word. Jim Biggins, the tallest and handsomest boy in their class, who always sat in the back of the bus, began to clap his hands. “You tell her, Celia!”

Janice Richards’s cheeks burned the color of ripe persimmons. She’d never care what Celia thought of her, but she cared plenty what Jim thought, and whatever Jim Biggins thought, the whole class followed. The gaggle of girls pulled away from Janice. Gratified, Celia marched off the bus and into the general store to pick up the mail.

When she returned to the store’s front porch, Janice was waiting for her. The other kids, other than Chester, were gone. Janice stepped close as Celia hopped down the steps, doing her best to ignore her archnemesis.

“You think you’re so smart, so clever, so much the favorite of everybody at Garden’s Gate. But I tell you, Celia Percy, beware,” Janice hissed. “You and your white trash family made an enemy today.”

Chills ran up Celia’s spine at the venom in Janice’s threats, but she pretended not to hear and marched away, with Chester aghast at her heels. By the time she reached Garden’s Gate, the hair on Celia’s arms had settled down and the ire in her heart had risen. She flung open the back door and slammed her schoolbooks on the kitchen table. “Janice Richards is the meanest, nastiest girl in the school—in the whole history of No Creek going back five hundred years!”

Chester, out of breath, trailed behind and plopped his books on the chair. “No Creek didn’t exist five hundred years ago. It was founded by the—”

“I don’t care who found it! I only care who’s gonna hog-tie and tar and feather that no-’count—”

“Celia Percy!” her mother exclaimed, running into the kitchen from the parlor. “Nobody talks like that in this house! I ought to Lifebuoy your mouth, young lady!”

“It’s her fault, Mama! It was Janice Richards who told about Miss Lill helpin’ over to the Tates’. She did it on the bus today, made it look like Miss Lill was doin’ somethin’ wicked—”

“It doesn’t matter, Celia.” Miss Lill walked in and Celia whirled to face her.

“It does matter! Don’t you see? Those KKK would never have known if it hadn’t been for her followin’ you, tellin’ on you. It was her got them riled.”

“You can’t blame Janice for riling them. Their own hate and hypocrisy and fear of what they don’t understand got them riled.”

“How can you say that?” Celia demanded, her anger forcing her eyes to well. “They like to killed you!”

“But they didn’t. And if they’d meant to kill me, they would have. They just wanted to scare me.”

“Well, they scared me!” Celia’s jaw tightened. She felt like shaking Miss Lill. “Don’t you see? If they scare you and you leave, there’ll be nobody to stand up to them. We’ll just go back to bein’ who we were before you and Miz Hyacinth.”

“Before Aunt Hyacinth? Before the Belvideres? Who are—who were the Belvideres? Because I’m confused. On the one hand everybody in No Creek treats the Tates like good folk as long as they ‘stay in their place’ and do their chores. But the moment they want to learn to read, to buy land, to work in the bigger world, they’re pushed down, pushed back, and all the ‘good folk’—maybe even the Belvideres, for all I know—turn away and pretend not to see.” Miss Lill closed her eyes as if trying to get her bearings.

Celia circled the table and grabbed one of her hands. “How can you say that, Miss Lill? Miz Hyacinth was the only Belvidere outside you I ever knew, and she wasn’t like that. And neither am I. Neither is Mama or Chester or Doc Vishy or Reverend Willard. We’re on your side, Miss Lill. I’m your friend! Don’t you see me standin’ here?”

A shudder ran through Miss Lill that vibrated into Celia’s fingers—a shudder she felt deep in her bones.

Miss Lill opened her eyes. “Yes,” she sighed, her eyes filling. “I see you, Celia Percy.”