By lunchtime I’d planned our honeymoon in Italy and was trying to decide if we should name our first son Orbit or Cosine, when someone slid into the chair beside me. I just about spit out my peanut butter and jelly sandwich when I realized it was JT.
“Hi, Marlee,” he said.
I knew I should squeeze out a “hi” or maybe “hello,” or maybe even “hello, JT,” but of course he knew what his name was and my mouth was full of peanut butter. Still, I’d promised Judy I’d try to speak, so before I could talk myself out of it, I said, “Hi, JT.”
I was pleased. I sounded so smooth and calm, at least until I reached for my milk to wash down the peanut butter and knocked over the carton instead.
JT, always the gentleman, mopped up the mess. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to help me with math this year,” he said as he pushed a pile of soggy napkins around the table.
I was too surprised to move. There was still a big blob of peanut butter stuck to the roof of my mouth. If I said something, JT would be totally grossed out.
“Mr. Harding is a hard teacher,” JT went on. “I’m sure to fail if I don’t find a tutor, and I don’t want to have to repeat the seventh grade like my brother did. I’m not so good at math, and you’re great at it. So, what do you say? Do you want to help me?”
I swallowed. This was my chance. “I do.”
He grinned, pulled out his math book and handed it to me. “The first assignment is on page twelve, numbers one through twenty-one.”
I knew that. We were in the same class. Still, I didn’t mind being the brains in the family.
“Let’s meet up before school tomorrow, and you can explain it to me,” he suggested. “Say at the picnic table by the football field?”
I nodded.
He patted me on the shoulder. “Thanks, Marlee,” he said. “You’re a real sweet girl.” Then he walked off to join his friends at their regular table.
I was on cloud nine. I had a date—a real date—with JT. We’d had a whole conversation. He liked me. He—
“He just wants you to do the work for him,” Sally said, sitting down at our table.
I shrugged. I was happy, and I wasn’t going to let Sally take that away from me.
“Maybe,” said Liz as she put down her tray. “But he sure is cute.”
I didn’t hear the rest of the conversation after that. I was too busy thinking about Cosine and his little sister, Isosceles.
The next morning I had Daddy drop me off at school extra early. I had pencils, paper, both our math books and my homework. JT could use it as an answer key if he got stuck. He wasn’t at school when I arrived, so I sat down on top of the picnic table to wait.
I waited a long time. Cosine and Isosceles were in college by the time JT’s brother, Red, finally pulled up to the curb. JT might be a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream and sprinkles on the top, but his brother was castor oil. Red was seventeen, a year older than Judy. He had blond hair and blue eyes like his little brother, and his features were so regular, they looked like they had been laid out with a ruler. If you ask me, it’s people’s imperfections that give them character—a nose slightly off center or a dimple or one ear slightly higher than the other. There was something creepy about Red’s perfectly symmetrical face.
Or maybe it wasn’t about his face at all. Once, when we were all little kids playing in an old quarry near our house, Red had called me over to see a butterfly he’d caught. It was beautiful—black and orange—and fluttered like a tiny, pulsing heart in his hand. Then suddenly, he’d torn off its wings with his fingertips and laughed when I started to cry.
“You’ve got the mute girl tutoring you?” asked Red loudly as he pulled up to the curb. I knew he wanted me to hear.
JT shrugged. “She’s pretty. And good at math. What else do I need?” He opened the door and got out.
Red sped off, almost hitting one of the colored women who worked in the cafeteria and was trying to cross the street. He leaned on the horn, and she hurried out of his way.
I wanted to say something to her as she walked toward the side door of the school. Are you all right? Isn’t he a jerk? Or maybe even just hello. But before I could get up the nerve, she was inside the building and the moment was gone.
“Hi, Marlee.” JT sat down next to me on the picnic bench.
I smiled at him.
“So,” said JT.
So. I guessed I’d have to say something. In my excitement over planning the JT and Marlee love story, I’d forgotten that tutoring him would involve actual speaking.
“You ready?” he asked.
I opened my math book, and my homework fell out.
The first bell rang.
Great. We only had five minutes to get to class. There were twenty-one problems. We’d never finish in time!
But JT’s grin was as wide as ever. “You’re a sweetheart.”
Before I could swoon over his words of endearment, JT picked up my homework and put it into his book. He winked and slammed the book shut. “Thanks, Marlee. See you same place tomorrow. Okay?” He strode off without waiting for an answer.
All yesterday, I’d imagined the scene. JT and I would have so much fun working together, he’d say he wanted to spend more time with me. We’d do fractions at the Double Scoop Ice Cream Parlor and long division at Krystal Burger. I wanted to believe the best of him. Maybe he’d had another flat tire. Maybe his alarm clock hadn’t gone off. Even though the truth was staring me in the face, I couldn’t help thinking that maybe tomorrow he’d be on time.
6
A NEW PARTNER
I spent all of homeroom frantically doing my math homework. Again.
When I was done, Liz leaned over and whispered, “What are you going to do for your history report?”
For a minute, I didn’t know what she was talking about. Then I remembered the project Miss Taylor had told us about yesterday. The one that involved an oral presentation. No wonder I’d done my best to block it out.
Liz kept talking. “Because I had this really good idea, and I wanted to ask you to work with me.”
I glanced at Sally.
Liz saw who I was looking at, and her face dropped. But she pasted a smile back on so fast, if I’d blinked I’d have missed her true reaction. “Oh, of course,” she said brightly. “That makes sense. You and Sally being old friends and all.”
I suddenly knew she’d imagined this scene, just like I had pictured the one with JT. And this wasn’t the way hers had ended either. I felt bad, but not bad enough to actually work with her.
Liz turned away, but as she did, she knocked her math notebook to the floor. I bent over to pick it up.
On the back was a square with lots of little squares in it. In some of the squares were numbers. I knew what it was—it was a magic square.
Magic squares have been around for just about forever. According to David’s old math book (he used to let me read it when he wasn’t studying), the Chinese discovered them way back before Jesus was even born. The simplest was a three-by-three square, with the numbers 1 to 9 arranged so that every row, column and diagonal added up to 15. Liz had a four-by-four square on her notebook with some of the numbers missing.
I ran my fingers over the numbers. The top row added up to 34.
“It’s a magic square,” said Liz, sounding a little embarrassed. “It’s a silly game my mother taught me.”
“Thirteen,” I said, pointing to a blank square.
“Oh,” said Liz. “Thanks. I couldn’t figure that one out.”
I stared at the square again. Yep. Each row, column and diagonal added up to 34. It was beautiful. I handed back the notebook and counted 2, 3, 5, 7. “What was your idea?”
“Well, I have this book about the founding of Little Rock and the Indians who used
to live here and . . .” Liz paused and looked at me. Then she shook her head. “It’s okay, Marlee. You don’t have to pretend to be interested.”
“It’s just . . .” I took a deep breath. “Why me?”
Liz shrugged. “You seem like a hard worker. At my old school, I was the one who always ended up doing all the work.”
I knew what that was like. I’d worked with Sally on every project since third grade. Maybe it was time for a change.
“Okay,” I said.
“Really?” she asked.
I nodded.
“Great,” she said. “Meet you at the public library tomorrow after school?”
I nodded again.
The bell rang, and homeroom was over. Liz gave me a little wave and walked off. What was she? A root beer? An extra-thick milk shake with two straws? Carrot juice? I didn’t know, and I didn’t really care. I just wanted to know everything she knew about magic squares.
On Friday I arrived early and waited by the picnic table, and again JT arrived just before the bell rang. He winked at me as he took my homework. “Like your hair.”
Judy and I had stayed up late the night before, putting my hair into curlers. I knew I should feel mad about the homework, but I couldn’t help being just a little tickled he had noticed. And at least this time, I’d known to do the homework twice.
When I walked into the library that afternoon, there was Liz, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, reading glasses balanced on her nose. When she saw me, she pulled off the glasses and waved.
“Hi, Marlee,” she said with a smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
I shrugged. Clearly she didn’t understand how much I liked math.
When she realized I wasn’t going to answer her, she handed me a book, and I sat down and started reading. We read for a long time. The book she had pulled for me on the Quapaw Indians was actually pretty interesting. The Quapaws were the Indians who had lived in Little Rock when the first settlers came. The book talked all about their families and how they got married and what they did when they died. When I looked up, Liz had two pages of notes in a crisp, neat handwriting.
“Find anything interesting?” she asked.
I nodded.
“What?”
I passed her a book and pointed to a paragraph about what they did with orphaned children. She read it quickly. “Cool. Hey, we could do this for the class—put on sort of a pretend ceremony. Pick some kids to be the orphans and some others to be the fathers.”
That would be interesting. And more fun than just reading a boring old paper aloud.
“Only one problem,” she said.
I looked at her.
“You have to talk,” she said. “I mean during the presentation.”
I shook my head. I did not talk in front of the class. That was like asking me to walk down the street in my underwear.
“You have to at least say something.”
I just looked at her.
“If I do all the talking, people will think I did all the work. And that’s not fair.”
She was right. It wasn’t fair. And I didn’t care. I did not give oral presentations.
“It’s important to face your fears,” said Liz. “It makes you a better person.”
I thought I was pretty good just the way I was. We stared at each other for a long moment. If it was a staring contest she wanted, I knew I’d win.
Sure enough, she looked away first. “I tell you what,” said Liz. “My mother has a whole book about magic squares. You speak during our presentation, and I’ll give it to you.”
Just when I thought I’d gotten the best of her, she went and turned it all around. A book of magic squares? There was no way I could resist that. And from the smug look on her face, I was pretty sure she understood how much I liked math, after all.
“Fine,” I said.
Liz smiled at me.
The front door of the library opened, and a couple of colored girls walked in. Liz stiffened. I knew Negroes were allowed to use this library now—that rule had passed a few years ago—but I didn’t see them there much. It was like the bus—officially, anyone could sit anywhere they wanted now, but most of the time, the colored folks stayed to the back.
“I think we’ve done enough for one day,” said Liz, closing her book. She glanced over at the colored girls again. They were waiting, trying unsuccessfully to get the librarian’s attention.
I wondered if Liz was like some of the other kids at school, calling colored folks names I wasn’t allowed to say. I wondered if I could do this project with her if she was.
“They aren’t hurting anyone,” I said quietly.
“I know,” she said. “I’m just tired of studying.”
But I didn’t quite believe her.
7
A NEW ROOMMATE
Every Saturday we had to clean the house from top to bottom. It wasn’t my favorite thing to do, but it wasn’t so bad either, not since Judy and I got a record player last Christmas. Now every Saturday morning, we put on our latest album and sang along. This week it was South Pacific.
I like singing. The song gives you the words, so you don’t have to think about what to say. Sometimes I dream about being in the church choir. But that involves getting up and standing in front of a group of people. Which is not something I like to do.
Every time I thought about how I had agreed to talk during our presentation, I felt sick. Even reciting prime numbers didn’t calm me down. I hadn’t even told Judy about it yet, since I’d already decided twenty times to tell Liz no on Monday. But then I’d think of that math book and change my mind again. Especially since last year, I’d spent a week building up my courage to ask the librarian for a book on magic squares, and when I did, she said they didn’t carry books about witchcraft.
“Mother,” Judy said, bringing me back to the world of scrubbing tubs and toilets, “is it okay if I move into David’s room?”
What? David might be at college, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t ever coming back. Did it?
“I asked him before he left, and he said he didn’t mind,” said Judy.
I mind! But I didn’t say it. I just scrubbed harder.
Mother stopped shining the mirror over the sink. “What about when he comes home for the holidays? Christmas and spring break.”
“I’ll just move back in with Marlee then. She can have the double bed; I’m happy with the twin.”
“All right, then.” Mother went back to work.
“No,” I said. “I don’t want you to go.”
Judy laughed. “Marlee, I’m not going anywhere. Just down the hall.”
“You’ll love having some space to yourself,” said Mother. “You’ll see.”
But I knew she was wrong.
As soon as we were finished with our chores, Judy moved into David’s old room. We’d shared a room my entire life, and it only took her half an hour to disappear.
That night, it was as quiet as a graveyard in my room. Even the roaring of the lions couldn’t break the silence. I missed the sound of Judy breathing, the squeak of the bed as she rolled over, even the ticking of her alarm clock. Finally I took my blanket and snuck down the hall into my brother’s old room. The moon shone in the window, and I could just make out Judy asleep on the bed. I crept inside and curled up on the floor. It was hard and uncomfortable, but I fell asleep easily, listening to Judy’s quiet snoring.
“Marlee!”
I woke up to Judy staring at me. The sun was shining in the window.
“Why are you sleeping on the floor?” she demanded.
I shrugged.
“Marlee, I changed rooms because I wanted to be alone! Tonight, make sure you stay in your own bed.” Judy stepped over me and marched off to the bathroom.
I picked up my blanket and went back to my room. My sister, the one I could always talk to, didn’t want me around anymore. I didn’t know what I was going to do.
Sally wasn’t pleased either. Not when Liz told her we were working together.
“But Marlee always works with me,” she said.
I’m right here, I wanted to yell. I can hear what you are saying about me.
“Well, you are so nice,” said Liz smoothly, “to make sure a new girl like me doesn’t have to work alone.”
Sally opened her mouth, then closed it again.
“I’ll work with you, Sally,” said Nora.
Sally shrugged, and Nora beamed.
What I wouldn’t give to be like Liz, to be the one who could make Sally speechless.
That afternoon when I got home from school, Betty Jean was in the kitchen making sweet tea. Everyone has their own recipe, but Betty Jean makes it by boiling water in a saucepan on the stove. She adds in a pinch of baking soda, and then when the water’s boiling, puts in the tea bags, all tied together. Once it’s dark enough, she pours it into a pitcher and adds a cup of simple syrup. She stirs, adds enough water to fill the pitcher to the top, and stirs again.
Betty Jean was just getting ready to put it into the fridge when she realized I was watching her. “Oh, Marlee, I didn’t see you,” she said. “Would you like a glass of tea?”
What I really wanted was for my sister to come down and talk to me, but she was up in her new room, even though I knew she’d heard the front door open when I came in. But I didn’t want to sit in my room alone, and I guess I was a little thirsty, so I nodded.
I sat down at the table while Betty Jean filled a tall glass with ice and poured in the tea. “Do you mind if I sit down for a minute?” she asked as she put the tea down in front of me. “The heat makes my ankles swell.”
The Lions of Little Rock Page 3