lit the cross that fell on the colored schoolhouse and burned it down and killed Jess Still.
I stand still for a very long time, looking down, staring at this person covered in a sheet with the mask. I do not have to pull off the mask to know who this is, but I do. I have to. I do it carefully. I bend down. I take the ends in my fingers, and quietly, gently, I lift the hood from the sleeping head it covers. Without thinking, I ball up the hood in my fists and stuff it in my pocket.
When I see him, when I recognize for sure that this here is my own pappy, I cannot say that I am surprised, but for a minute I cannot breathe. He does not wake up. He sleeps on like a baby. What could he be dreaming?
I think,
Now it is worse because the killers are not only just men, one of them is my pappy.
If they were monsters, we would
just get rid of them and not think twice. But they are men. They are our men. They are one of us. They are who we are. And him? He is my pappy. He is who I am.
Pappy, who people say is such a jokester in No-Bob. My pappy, who lives to make people laugh. It was Pappy who burned a cross over thirty feet high in front of the colored people's church. It was Pappy who killed my sweet little friend named Jess Still.
Last night they said they were curing what they called the horrors of anarchy and reckless Negro rule. But Pappy and these O'Donnell men? These men are stirring up a fight when there is no fight. These men, this whole nation of men, were forced to quit the war in 1865, when they lost. Then they got mad and started to fight each other. They are trying to make it so that it is like it was before all the fighting and they kill anybody and everybody who disagrees.
I put together what I've known all along but couldn't admit to myself. I think of the talk last night, what Pappy said, the secret handshakes. All around me are my people. All around me are violent men, killers, members of the Klan. I could run and tell Mr. Frank now so he could get the sheriff who has the warrant for Pappy's arrest, but I think,
No, I cannot, should not.
Already I have brought too much trouble to the Russell home.
I look down at my sleeping pappy. If I could, I would shake him awake this instant and stand before him and tell it to his face. I would say to him,
Pappy? You are a killer and a thief. You have stolen so much from so many. You have taken lives. You will not steal from me. You will not steal away my life.
But I could never say this to his face.
I look around at all the passed-out, sleeping men in this grungy one-room house, and it's like seeing the map in Mr. Frank's schoolhouse for the first time. I see exactly where I am now, and I know what to do. I do just what Pappy would do if he were his own little girl. I bundle up some leftover cornbread and sweet potatoes in my quilt. I put on my new blue coat and tie the quilt around me so the food won't fall out. I take the asafetida bag from my pocket and hang it around my neck.
Then I step over everybody laying there on the ground and I keep stepping and stepping and stepping until I am running. And I keep running. I only have one plan and that plan is to get out.
You have to cross No-Bob to cross out of No-Bob and I do. I run across No-Bob and away into the piny woods where the trees sway like dancers and the hills are snakes curling their backs.
Chapter 9
Once in the woods, I walk the paths that few know, past misty fields sprayed with leftover, worn-out corn and rows of longleaf pines standing soldier straight. I say hey to the frogs and the rabbits and the birds and Mr. Snake who slithers into some sunshine to sun himself.
When I need to do my business, I squat in the field like a partridge.
I keep moving to stay warm. I walk further away from the roads, to where the pines grow closer together, to where
horses can't pass through. I am grateful for the shoes and the good, warm coat Mr. Frank gave me. Did he know? Did he know how I would need and use them
I stand still for a very long time, looking down, staring at this person covered in a sheet with the mask. I do not have to pull off the mask to know who this is, but I do. I have to. I do it carefully. I bend down. I take the ends in my fingers, and quietly, gently, I lift the hood from the sleeping head it covers. Without thinking, I ball up the hood in my fists and stuff it in my pocket.
When I see him, when I recognize for sure that this here is my own pappy, I cannot say that I am surprised, but for a minute I cannot breathe. He does not wake up. He sleeps on like a baby. What could he be dreaming?
I think,
Now it is worse because the killers are not only just men, one of them is my pappy.
If they were monsters, we would
just get rid of them and not think twice. But they are men. They are our men. They are one of us. They are who we are. And him? He is my pappy. He is who I am.
Pappy, who people say is such a jokester in No-Bob. My pappy, who lives to make people laugh. It was Pappy who burned a cross over thirty feet high in front of the colored people's church. It was Pappy who killed my sweet little friend named Jess Still.
Last night they said they were curing what they called the horrors of anarchy and reckless Negro rule. But Pappy and these O'Donnell men? These men are stirring up a fight when there is no fight. These men, this whole nation of men, were forced to quit the war in 1865, when they lost. Then they got mad and started to fight each other. They are trying to make it so that it is like it was before all the fighting and they kill anybody and everybody who disagrees.
I put together what I've known all along but couldn't admit to myself. I think of the talk last night, what Pappy said, the secret handshakes. All around me are my people. All around me are violent men, killers, members of the Klan. I could run and tell Mr. Frank now so he could get the sheriff who has the warrant for Pappy's arrest, but I think,
No, I cannot, should not.
Already I have brought too much trouble to the Russell home.
I look down at my sleeping pappy. If I could, I would shake him awake this instant and stand before him and tell it to his face. I would say to him,
Pappy? You are a killer and a thief. You have stolen so much from so many. You have taken lives. You will not steal from me. You will not steal away my life.
But I could never say this to his face.
I look around at all the passed-out, sleeping men in this grungy one-room house, and it's like seeing the map in Mr. Frank's schoolhouse for the first time. I see exactly where I am now, and I know what to do. I do just what Pappy would do if he were his own little girl. I bundle up some leftover cornbread and sweet potatoes in my quilt. I put on my new blue coat and tie the quilt around me so the food won't fall out. I take the asafetida bag from my pocket and hang it around my neck.
Then I step over everybody laying there on the ground and I keep stepping and stepping and stepping until I am running. And I keep running. I only have one plan and that plan is to get out.
You have to cross No-Bob to cross out of No-Bob and I do. I run across No-Bob and away into the piny woods where the trees sway like dancers and the hills are snakes curling their backs.
Chapter 9
Once in the woods, I walk the paths that few know, past misty fields sprayed with leftover, worn-out corn and rows of longleaf pines standing soldier straight. I say hey to the frogs and the rabbits and the birds and Mr. Snake who slithers into some sunshine to sun himself.
When I need to do my business, I squat in the field like a partridge.
I keep moving to stay warm. I walk further away from the roads, to where the pines grow closer together, to where
horses can't pass through. I am grateful for the shoes and the good, warm coat Mr. Frank gave me. Did he know? Did he know how I would need and use them
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