for trick-or-treating, andto make sure we went no place near Ivoryton.
When we got to the corner near Crossland, I told Yolanda it was time to turn back, time to head home. Ivoryton was right up ahead.
“I got two pennies in my treats bag,” Goober said. “Two shiny pennies.”
From behind us, we heard somebody making fun of Goober, repeating after him in a baby voice.
“Two shiny pennies.”
It was the Hatch brothers, Bobby, Cecil, and Jeb. They came up on all sides of us. Bobby was dressed as a cowboy. Cecil was a scarecrow. Jeb’s Dracula cape stopped at his knees.
“What in the Sam Hill kind of costume is that?” Jeb was talking to Goober.
We tried to walk past the boys, but only got a few steps. They blocked us from going farther.
Bobby and Cecil bumped shoulders. They laughed. “Hey, Negro retard, what are you supposed to be?”
I prayed Goober would just not answer and keep walking, but of course he had to say something. “I’m not Sam Hill, I’m a peanut.”
The brothers laughed harder. “You’re a
what?”
they teased.
“A peanut,” Goober said simply.
“You mean a blackie nut,” said Bobby.
Yolanda surprised me then. She dropped her pillowcase, hooked arms with me and Goober, and shoved us past the Hatches.
“Run!” she hollered, holding tight. Lena Horne sure can move! Yolanda’s dress flickered against the circles of light set down by the streetlamps.
Goober slowed us up. Peanuts made from butcher paper and wire can’t go fast.
The boys came after us, hurling eggs.
Me and Yolanda held firm on to Goober, who was between us. “Run, Goob, run!” I encouraged.
Jeb mimicked me. “Run,
poop,
run!”
The Panic Monster was out on Halloween, dressed as himself,
shaboodle-shaking
me all over.
Eggs flew, some just missing our feet, some smacking at our backs. Thunder came. Yolanda tripped on the hem of her sheet-dress, but kept going.
When we turned onto Maycomb Street, the Hatches stopped. “That’s the heart of Crow’s Nest,” I heard one of them say. “Pa says to never ever go there.”
At the steps of our porch, Goober fell forward, hard. He was nowhere near to being hurt. His peanut’s shell had protected him. His feetwiggled out the bottom of his costume. He’d lost a slipper.
Lena Horne checked the hem on her sheet.
Then it rained.
Monday, November 1, 1954
Diary Book,
I’m still shook up from what happened last night. I’m scared to tell Mama and Daddy about it. And scared
not
to tell Mama and Daddy. If I tell them, they’ll ask what we were doing so close to Ivoryton, and I’ll get the skin tanned off my behind. If I don’t tell them, and they find out, I’ll get the skin tanned off
all
of me.
This is why it’s good to write things down. You can see what’s in front of you and decide which way to go. I will not be telling Mama and Daddy about Halloween, or what happened last summer with the Hatch brothers at the drinking fountain.
I’ll need to hide this diary good. From now on, it’ll be tucked to the back of my closet shelf, behind my dictionary.
Because if Daddy or Mama reads this, I am a skinned possum!
Tuesday, November 2, 1954
Diary Book,
Last summer when Yolanda and I first set eyes on Prettyman’s baseball field, I was convinced that field was heaven’s front yard. I suppose heaven is a big place, ’cause today I stepped foot into heaven’s parlor — the Prettyman Science lab.
The first thing I learned from Mrs. Elmer, our Science teacher, is that the word
lab
is short for
laboratory.
It sounds so official, like where you can really learn important stuff.
The Prettyman Science
laboratory
has bottles and goggles and tubes and clips and counter-tops — and microscopes.
And there are four sinks for washing things, and for making sure our hands are clean. Sinks in a classroom! And microscopes!
THIS is why I will put up with kids staring at me like I’m some purple-headed carnival creature, and clucking after me like they’re the
When we got to the corner near Crossland, I told Yolanda it was time to turn back, time to head home. Ivoryton was right up ahead.
“I got two pennies in my treats bag,” Goober said. “Two shiny pennies.”
From behind us, we heard somebody making fun of Goober, repeating after him in a baby voice.
“Two shiny pennies.”
It was the Hatch brothers, Bobby, Cecil, and Jeb. They came up on all sides of us. Bobby was dressed as a cowboy. Cecil was a scarecrow. Jeb’s Dracula cape stopped at his knees.
“What in the Sam Hill kind of costume is that?” Jeb was talking to Goober.
We tried to walk past the boys, but only got a few steps. They blocked us from going farther.
Bobby and Cecil bumped shoulders. They laughed. “Hey, Negro retard, what are you supposed to be?”
I prayed Goober would just not answer and keep walking, but of course he had to say something. “I’m not Sam Hill, I’m a peanut.”
The brothers laughed harder. “You’re a
what?”
they teased.
“A peanut,” Goober said simply.
“You mean a blackie nut,” said Bobby.
Yolanda surprised me then. She dropped her pillowcase, hooked arms with me and Goober, and shoved us past the Hatches.
“Run!” she hollered, holding tight. Lena Horne sure can move! Yolanda’s dress flickered against the circles of light set down by the streetlamps.
Goober slowed us up. Peanuts made from butcher paper and wire can’t go fast.
The boys came after us, hurling eggs.
Me and Yolanda held firm on to Goober, who was between us. “Run, Goob, run!” I encouraged.
Jeb mimicked me. “Run,
poop,
run!”
The Panic Monster was out on Halloween, dressed as himself,
shaboodle-shaking
me all over.
Eggs flew, some just missing our feet, some smacking at our backs. Thunder came. Yolanda tripped on the hem of her sheet-dress, but kept going.
When we turned onto Maycomb Street, the Hatches stopped. “That’s the heart of Crow’s Nest,” I heard one of them say. “Pa says to never ever go there.”
At the steps of our porch, Goober fell forward, hard. He was nowhere near to being hurt. His peanut’s shell had protected him. His feetwiggled out the bottom of his costume. He’d lost a slipper.
Lena Horne checked the hem on her sheet.
Then it rained.
Monday, November 1, 1954
Diary Book,
I’m still shook up from what happened last night. I’m scared to tell Mama and Daddy about it. And scared
not
to tell Mama and Daddy. If I tell them, they’ll ask what we were doing so close to Ivoryton, and I’ll get the skin tanned off my behind. If I don’t tell them, and they find out, I’ll get the skin tanned off
all
of me.
This is why it’s good to write things down. You can see what’s in front of you and decide which way to go. I will not be telling Mama and Daddy about Halloween, or what happened last summer with the Hatch brothers at the drinking fountain.
I’ll need to hide this diary good. From now on, it’ll be tucked to the back of my closet shelf, behind my dictionary.
Because if Daddy or Mama reads this, I am a skinned possum!
Tuesday, November 2, 1954
Diary Book,
Last summer when Yolanda and I first set eyes on Prettyman’s baseball field, I was convinced that field was heaven’s front yard. I suppose heaven is a big place, ’cause today I stepped foot into heaven’s parlor — the Prettyman Science lab.
The first thing I learned from Mrs. Elmer, our Science teacher, is that the word
lab
is short for
laboratory.
It sounds so official, like where you can really learn important stuff.
The Prettyman Science
laboratory
has bottles and goggles and tubes and clips and counter-tops — and microscopes.
And there are four sinks for washing things, and for making sure our hands are clean. Sinks in a classroom! And microscopes!
THIS is why I will put up with kids staring at me like I’m some purple-headed carnival creature, and clucking after me like they’re the
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