Mississippi for blacks and whites to eat at the same counterâyou know that," he said. "They broke the law, Samantha."
"Then maybe the law is wrong. Maybe that's what should be broken."
"How can you say that? If the law is wrong, then my parents are wrong and our teachers are wrong. How can you even say that?"
Then he pulled over by the side of the road. My heart was beating fast. "Look, Samantha." He wasn't angry. He spoke calmly, even softly then. "I'm just trying to figure all this out, just like everybody else, okay? You know what my mom's like. And my dad. You've met them. I have to live with them." I nodded. I could understand that. Stone was older than I was, but he was still only sixteen. We both of us sighed then. I didn't want to argue and I didn't think Stone did either. It was strange to want to be with someone you didn't agree with.
***
Our school was lit up, and inside, the decorations committee had strung balloons and streamers from the gym ceiling and through the basketball hoops. Stone and I watched other people dance until we agreed we were thirsty and went for the punch bowl.
Soon enough some new song came on, and then there they were, Perry and my mother dancing in the middle of the gymnasium floor, with everyone making a circle around them, watching them, and all I could think was
This is no good at all.
Stone and I stood in front of the punch table until he excused himself to talk with a group of his friends. I worried that I bored him. It seemed like Stone was someone who always needed people around him, orbiting him, his satellites other boys, mostly. I supposed I was mostly a loner, standing there like Pluto, sipping cherry-flavored punch. I looked for Ears but didn't see him.
Then I heard: "How come you don't dance like your mom?"
I heard: "Your mom is like a teenager. You're nothing like your mom."
I heard: "Is your mom a beatnik? My mom says she dresses like one."
I even overheard our principal, Mr. Calhoun, tell Miss Jenkins that my mother looked like a young Lesley Caron, the way she looked in that movie
Daddy Long Legs.
When was this going to get fun? When was this going to become my night and not my mother's?
I sat down in a chair. When Elvis came on, my feet started tapping and I didn't think the chair would hold me, but that passed and another song started. I was beginning to think Stone had ditched me.
Patti Page was singing "Tennessee Waltz" when I finally heard Stone call
my
name, not my mother's.
I had never danced with a boy. I wondered if my face looked funny this way, looking up, and if my hair spread out over my shoulders the way it was supposed to. I wanted Stone to look the other way for a minute so I could reorganize myself.
He put one hand around my waist and he took my other hand and held it up steady in the air, and then we began to move. We didn't step on each other once. My chin just about reached his shoulder so that I could glance around to see if anyone saw us. But I didn't even care who saw, or what they were saying about my mother or Perry anymore.
I
was dancing and I was dancing with Stone McLemore. Even his ears were clean and fine-looking, and every now and then my lips brushed against his left lobe.
Was this love? Was this what my mother felt when she'd first danced with my dad?
Stone's shoulders felt man-like, and I wondered when that happened, when a boy's shoulders became man shoulders. Maybe when they began to read the paper in the morning and watched the TV news, maybe that's when shoulders changed. In movies I had seen girls talking while they danced, so I thought I should too. I told Stone what I'd heard my mother and Perry discussing. I told him about spies and stuff I didn't know anything about going on in Leningrad and Moscow. I thought what I said sounded secretive and romantic, especially whispered.
"You sure know a lot about Commies," he said, smiling, pulling me toward him. "Where'd you find all this out?"
"I watch. I listen," I
"Then maybe the law is wrong. Maybe that's what should be broken."
"How can you say that? If the law is wrong, then my parents are wrong and our teachers are wrong. How can you even say that?"
Then he pulled over by the side of the road. My heart was beating fast. "Look, Samantha." He wasn't angry. He spoke calmly, even softly then. "I'm just trying to figure all this out, just like everybody else, okay? You know what my mom's like. And my dad. You've met them. I have to live with them." I nodded. I could understand that. Stone was older than I was, but he was still only sixteen. We both of us sighed then. I didn't want to argue and I didn't think Stone did either. It was strange to want to be with someone you didn't agree with.
***
Our school was lit up, and inside, the decorations committee had strung balloons and streamers from the gym ceiling and through the basketball hoops. Stone and I watched other people dance until we agreed we were thirsty and went for the punch bowl.
Soon enough some new song came on, and then there they were, Perry and my mother dancing in the middle of the gymnasium floor, with everyone making a circle around them, watching them, and all I could think was
This is no good at all.
Stone and I stood in front of the punch table until he excused himself to talk with a group of his friends. I worried that I bored him. It seemed like Stone was someone who always needed people around him, orbiting him, his satellites other boys, mostly. I supposed I was mostly a loner, standing there like Pluto, sipping cherry-flavored punch. I looked for Ears but didn't see him.
Then I heard: "How come you don't dance like your mom?"
I heard: "Your mom is like a teenager. You're nothing like your mom."
I heard: "Is your mom a beatnik? My mom says she dresses like one."
I even overheard our principal, Mr. Calhoun, tell Miss Jenkins that my mother looked like a young Lesley Caron, the way she looked in that movie
Daddy Long Legs.
When was this going to get fun? When was this going to become my night and not my mother's?
I sat down in a chair. When Elvis came on, my feet started tapping and I didn't think the chair would hold me, but that passed and another song started. I was beginning to think Stone had ditched me.
Patti Page was singing "Tennessee Waltz" when I finally heard Stone call
my
name, not my mother's.
I had never danced with a boy. I wondered if my face looked funny this way, looking up, and if my hair spread out over my shoulders the way it was supposed to. I wanted Stone to look the other way for a minute so I could reorganize myself.
He put one hand around my waist and he took my other hand and held it up steady in the air, and then we began to move. We didn't step on each other once. My chin just about reached his shoulder so that I could glance around to see if anyone saw us. But I didn't even care who saw, or what they were saying about my mother or Perry anymore.
I
was dancing and I was dancing with Stone McLemore. Even his ears were clean and fine-looking, and every now and then my lips brushed against his left lobe.
Was this love? Was this what my mother felt when she'd first danced with my dad?
Stone's shoulders felt man-like, and I wondered when that happened, when a boy's shoulders became man shoulders. Maybe when they began to read the paper in the morning and watched the TV news, maybe that's when shoulders changed. In movies I had seen girls talking while they danced, so I thought I should too. I told Stone what I'd heard my mother and Perry discussing. I told him about spies and stuff I didn't know anything about going on in Leningrad and Moscow. I thought what I said sounded secretive and romantic, especially whispered.
"You sure know a lot about Commies," he said, smiling, pulling me toward him. "Where'd you find all this out?"
"I watch. I listen," I
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