Ruby Lee and Me

by Shannon Hitchcock

  “Granny says if I try to be friends with coloreds, I’ll be called names and left out of birthday parties.”

  “Ostracized is the word you’re looking for,” Mrs. Brown said. “Your granny could be right.” She patted my hand. “I’ve given you a lot to think about, but should you decide to broaden your circle of friends, you’ll have an unexpected ally. I have it on good authority that the new sixth-grade teacher at Shady Creek will be a Negro. A very intelligent, dignified woman. In fact, Mrs. Smyre will be stopping by here later to pick up some books.”

  Now I understood the things grown-ups whispered about, and why my mama was sometimes quick to turn off Walter Cronkite on the evening news. I thanked Mrs. Brown for answering my questions.

  “No thanks are necessary. Answering questions is the best part of my job.”

  Mrs. Brown turned to leave, but I had one more question. “Where did the new teacher come from?”

  “She used to teach at the colored school. The teachers from that school will be integrated in schools throughout the county, same as the students.”

  I sat in the library for a long time. I watched Mrs. Smyre stop by for her books. She was with a little girl who looked so much like her—same eyes and mouth—that I knew they were mother and daughter. The little girl giggled, and Mrs. Smyre put her finger to her lips. “Sssh.” The teacher smiled and bent down to tie her daughter’s shoe.

  While I watched them, a big lump formed in my throat. I wondered if the little girl was nervous about being in a classroom full of white children. I wondered if it would seem strange to Mrs. Smyre to teach mostly white children, with only a dark face or two mingled in. I hoped the people in my town would be kind to them.

  This integration business was hard. After looking at Mrs. Brown’s scrapbook, I didn’t know if I was brave enough to be friends with Ruby. She said I wasn’t standing up for what was right, but I didn’t want to quit eating at Bubba’s or swimming in the town pool. And if we were gonna make up, I had to change. Our families had worked together as far back as anybody could remember. Calling Ruby that name was the meanest thing I could have said. I needed to think about the fine line, and what it meant to cross over it.

  On Thursday afternoon, Granny and I broke and strung green beans underneath the maple trees.

  “You’ve moped around here all day,” she said. “Are you still worried about school?”

  I snapped a fresh bean into three pieces. Mostly I was worried about Robin, but the thought of being the new kid at school was gnawing a hole in my stomach too. Would Ruby and I just ignore each other, nod our heads as if we barely knew one another? What did integration really mean here in Shady Creek?

  Granny shifted her weight in the green webbed lawn chair. “I guess it wouldn’t help much if I told you things have a way of working themselves out.”

  “Nope, I would still be worried.”

  “Drucker will be there,” Granny teased. “Won’t that help some?”

  My mouth fell open big enough to catch flies. How did Granny know I had a crush on Drucker?

  Granny chuckled and peered into the garden bucket. “I notice everything about you, Sarah Beth Willis. You and Robin have my heart.”

  We were still stringing beans when Miss Irene hollered, “Miss Maybelle, you at home?”

  “Under the maple trees,” Granny answered. She sent me to fetch a chair for Miss Irene from the porch.

  Miss Irene sat down and smoothed her faded dress over her knees. She kept working her mouth like she had something to say but couldn’t quite get it out. “Miss Maybelle, I hate being beholden to anybody, even you, but I need a favor.”

  Granny snapped a bean and then looked up. “I’ll surely help you if I can.”

  “I’m worried some of the mothers will act real ugly at the Back-to-School Ice-Cream Social. They’re riled up over having a colored teacher. I heard about it over at Gentry’s Grocery.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Granny said, “not one bit, but how can we stop such as that?”

  Miss Irene reached into her apron pocket. “I have a list of the children that will be in Mrs. Smyre’s class right here. How about calling their parents? Remind ’em they’re generally good people. Ask ’em to do what’s right.”

  Granny reached for the list. “I don’t think there’s time for me to call all these people before tonight, but I’ll call as many as I can. I’ll start with the families I know are liable to be the biggest problem.”

  “That would surely ease my mind,” Miss Irene said. “Pauline Smyre is a fine teacher. All she needs is a chance to get off on the right foot.”

  I remembered seeing Mrs. Smyre and her daughter the day before. “Call Mrs. Brown at the library,” I said. “She’s on the committee. I bet she’d help call the parents.”

  “Sarah Beth, that’s using your thinking cap,” Granny said. “I’ll start by talking to Mrs. Brown.”

  My new school was made of red brick and shaped like a long, skinny rectangle. The building sat in the middle of a big green lawn, with two baseball fields, seesaws, monkey bars, and swing sets. From the outside, it looked a lot nicer than the colored school. I remembered what Ruby said about wanting to go to a school with real playground equipment.

  Grandpa turned the ignition off and put the keys in his pocket. “I’m going on to the cafeteria for refreshments,” he said. “Y’all come on down after you meet Sarah’s teacher.”

  I followed Granny inside. First through fifth grades were at one end of a long hall. We passed by an auditorium with a stage, red velvet curtains, and shiny wood floors. I hoped Ruby had seen it. I could picture her singing on that stage.

  My new classroom was just past the auditorium, on the sixth-through-eighth-grade end of the hall. Granny pushed her spectacles up on her nose. “Mrs. Smyre,” she read from the sign beside the door.

  I squared my shoulders and marched inside. The room was jammed with parents and kids. I waited in line to meet Mrs. Smyre.

  Her skin was the color of hot chocolate, same as Ruby’s. Miss Irene stood beside her, wearing a royal-blue suit. Mrs. Smyre shook my hand. “I’m Mrs. Smyre, and you are … ?”

  “Sarah. Sarah Beth Willis.” I didn’t tell her that I’d been spying on her the day before.

  “Sarah Beth is almost like one of my grandbabies,” Miss Irene said.

  I felt good all over when she said that. If Ruby had told her about the terrible thing I said, Miss Irene had surely forgiven me, and if she had, maybe Ruby could too.

  Mrs. Smyre gave me a warm smile. “Welcome to Shady Creek School. I am new here, just as you are.”

  I loved the new teacher’s voice. It had rhythm, a storyteller’s voice. “Ma’am, do you read aloud to your class?”

  “On occasion. Why do you ask?”

  I felt my face flush. “Ummm. Well, you have a good voice for it.”

  “Thank you, Sarah. That’s the nicest compliment I’ve been paid today.”

  I moved to the back of the room and watched Mrs. Smyre greet each parent that walked in. She was bound to know some of them had threatened to cause a scene, but it didn’t show in her face or her words.

  When Ruby Lee walked in, I wanted to drink in the sight of her, but instead I turned to stare out the window. My stomach churned because of the mean name I’d called her.

  I picked up a copy of the school calendar, while Granny chatted with Miss Irene and then with the other parents.

  Betsy Carter’s mama whispered to Granny, “I’m still not sure about a colored teacher.”

  I pretended to study the calendar, but I was all ears.

  “We need to give Mrs. Smyre a fair shake,” Granny said. “Times are changing, and we all have some adjusting to do.” She took Mrs. Carter by the arm. “I’m on the welcoming committee. Let’s me and you have us a chat with the new teacher.”

  After Mrs. Smyre shook hands with every parent, she stepped to the front of the room. She waited until all the chatter died down. “I’ve asked Mrs. Brown
, Miss Irene, and Miss Maybelle to escort the grown-ups to the cafeteria so I can get to know the children. They’ll join you for ice cream in about ten minutes.”

  There was lots of whispering, but with Granny, Mrs. Brown, and Miss Irene herding the parents like cattle, nobody had the guts to complain out loud. I was real curious to hear what the new teacher had to say.

  I took a seat at one of the desks. “Welcome to seventh grade,” Mrs. Smyre said.

  Nobody answered her.

  Silently, I counted three colored children: Ruby, a tall girl with cornrows, and a muscular boy with close-cropped hair. There were twenty-five white kids, including me.

  “If you’ll approach this year with open minds,” Mrs. Smyre said, “we’ll journey far past the banks of Shady Creek and take a trip around the globe.” She pulled a map of the world down from its roller case. She pointed to a bookcase brimming with books, and then put her hand on a record player. “We’ll learn about life in other countries, I’ll introduce you to the works of great authors, and we’ll listen to Duke Ellington and Ella Fitzgerald. I have great things in store for this class.”

  I kept my head down, but cut my eyes around the room. Not a single soul was watching Mrs. Smyre.

  “Ah, boys and girls,” she said. “Your avoiding me will never do.” She turned an empty desk to face us and sat down. “I believe some of you are uneasy about school integration, and me in particular,” she said.

  I raised my head, and lots of other kids did too. We were curious to see what this unusual teacher would say and do next.

  “Black and white folks are a little different on the outside,” she continued. “But on the inside, we’re just the same. We all need friends.” And then she did something that caused our mouths to drop open. She invited each of us to touch her face and hair.

  Betsy Carter squirmed, before sitting on her hands. Not one person volunteered to be first, but then I stood up. I wasn’t a bit afraid to touch Mrs. Smyre, because I’d been touching Miss Irene and Ruby my whole life. I walked over and touched Mrs. Smyre’s cheek. Her skin was soft, like satin. Then I patted her short, dark hair.

  After I took my seat, curiosity got the best of the other kids. Everybody but the colored children lined up. I thought they were being plumb rude until Ruby explained. “We don’t need to touch your hair,” she said. “It’s just like ours.”

  “I understand,” Mrs. Smyre said, but then Ruby’s friend raised her hand.

  “Yes, Ella?”

  Ella pointed her finger straight at me. “I’d rather touch her hair. Ruby says it feels like corn silk.”

  Ruby would know. When we were little, maybe six or seven, Ruby had asked to touch my freckles, and then she’d asked to touch my hair. When it’d been my turn to touch her, I had told Ruby she was the color of a candy bar. Since we both loved candy, we decided that was a good color to be.

  Mrs. Smyre nodded at Ella. “Sarah Beth, would you mind if Ella touched your hair?”

  I twisted a strand around my finger while I thought about it. “I reckon that would be okay.”

  Ella rose and touched my hair real gentle, like she was rubbing a baby chick. “Ruby was right,” she said. “Just like corn silk.”

  I pushed through the crowded hall on my way to the cafeteria. Reverend Reece and Reverend Tyree from Miss Irene’s church were patrolling the ice-cream social.

  That seemed like a stroke of genius. I didn’t think most folks would act out in front of their minister.

  In the cafeteria, there were three lines for homemade ice cream. One for chocolate, one for vanilla, and one for strawberry. I waved to Granny standing in the vanilla line and went to check things out for myself. I searched the crowd for the only three people I knew: Betsy, Ruby Lee, and Drucker.

  I saw Betsy first, standing with a group of “perfect girls.” Perfect hair, perfect clothes, even a dab of makeup. As much as I liked Betsy, all that perfection made me feel bad about my freckles and ratty ponytail. I wished I’d worn my hair down and put on some Pink Passion lip gloss.

  Next, I spotted Ruby Lee and Ella. They were standing with their own people. I counted sixteen girls and boys of different ages. All of them were dressed in their Sunday best. They weren’t saying much, just looking down and shuffling their feet.

  And finally, I saw Drucker. His hair was damp, like he’d just taken a shower. He was wearing a striped shirt tucked into a pair of Levi’s. The boys standing around him had broad shoulders, probably football players. None of them were as cute as Drucker.

  A yearning for home washed over me. I didn’t have a group anymore, not like at my old school. I took the easy way out and walked over to Betsy. “Hey, Betsy.”

  “Hey, corn silk.”

  I didn’t know how to take that until Betsy said, “Thanks for what you did in there. It was awful uncomfortable until you touched her first.” Betsy gestured toward the two girls standing closest to her. “Lisa, Susan, this is Sarah Willis. She’s new to Shady Creek.”

  “We’re talking about cheerleading tryouts,” Lisa said. “We’re sick of all that integration business.”

  “Yeah,” Susan piped in. “Betsy can do a cartwheel, a roundoff, a front split, and a side split. She’s been practicing all summer.”

  Ruby and me kept watching each other, though we pretended not to. Miss Irene must have taken the hot comb to her hair. When we were little, she’d run and hide to avoid it. I listened for a few minutes as Betsy, Susan, and Lisa talked about cheerleading. I didn’t have much interest in it; the school newspaper was more my speed. I wondered how long three girls could talk about pom-poms. The answer seemed to be forever. Betsy and her friends didn’t even notice when I mumbled an excuse and slipped away.

  Maybe I couldn’t be school friends with Ruby, but it seemed downright mean to ignore her. I mustered up my courage and fought my way through the crowded cafeteria. “Hi, Ruby.”

  All the chatter died down in her group. Ruby’s dark eyes met my green ones. I knew exactly what she was thinking: I told you we couldn’t be school friends.

  After what seemed like forever, Ruby said, “Hey there.” She didn’t bother introducing me to the boys and girls from the colored school. Ella gave me a nice smile, before looking away.

  I felt whiter than white. Like I was somehow responsible for the town pool and Bubba’s Grill, and every other bad thing a white person had ever done to a black one.

  Finally, Ruby spoke up. “How’s Robin doing?”

  “She’s back in the hospital. They took her cast off, and she’s working with a physical therapist. Thank you for helping us this summer.”

  “You’re welcome,” Ruby said. “The money will come in handy.” She turned toward Ella. “I did some cleaning and gardening for the Willis family this summer.”

  So that’s how it is, I thought. Ruby and me are gonna be just like Granny and Miss Irene. We’re gonna smile and nod when we see each other in public. Anything else is too hard. “I’m glad the money helped.” My bottom lip started to tremble, and I bit down on it.

  “I got your letter,” Ruby said. “I appreciate what you wrote, but it didn’t change my mind about things.”

  Tears welled up in my eyes so that Ruby and her friends became a blur. I turned my back on them. I bobbed and weaved my way through the crowd to a poster on the cafeteria wall. It was of a night sky, a full moon, and some dried cornstalks. If I stared at it long enough, maybe I wouldn’t cry.

  What: The Harvest Moon School Dance

  Who: 6th, 7th, and 8th Graders

  When: Friday, October 3, from 7–10 p.m.

  “Are you going?”

  “What?” I whirled around and bumped into Drucker.

  “Ouch!” He rubbed his forehead. “To the dance. Are you going?”

  “Uh, well, uh, I don’t know.”

  Drucker kept rubbing his forehead. “You’re new. How are you gonna make friends if you don’t go to the dance?”

  I shrugged. All I could think about was the na
me I had called Ruby Lee, the stuff in Mrs. Brown’s scrapbook, and how Ruby thought I was more like a chicken than a Freedom Rider.

  Drucker put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “You can’t make friends staring at a poster.”

  Tears were pricking my eyes, because I didn’t fit in with Betsy’s group or with Ruby’s. No way I wanted to cry in front of him. “I ha-have to go.”

  “Hey, wait up,” Drucker called.

  I hurried across the gym to find Grandpa. I didn’t even look back.

  A big crowd had gathered in the parking lot. “Wonder what’s going on?” I asked.

  Granny shook her head. “It can’t be anything good.”

  The dead silence was what bothered me the most. Normally, anywhere there’s a lot of people, there’s a lot of noise.

  “Sarah, stay behind me,” Grandpa said, but when I saw Ruby pushing her way through the sea of people, I followed her.

  The first thing I noticed was that Mrs. Smyre had a run in her stockings. Her dress was wrinkled too, and she’d lost an earring.

  “No, no, I wasn’t hurt,” she assured Reverend Tyree. “Just saw a group of hoodlums gathered around my car. I chased them off, but shouldn’t have been running in the dark with high heels.” She reached up and pulled a leaf out of her hair.

  I noticed that most people weren’t looking at Mrs. Smyre but staring at her car. Somebody had keyed the awful word across the side. The same one I’d called Ruby Lee. The tears I’d been fighting back all night finally came. There was no way to stop them. I was crying for Ruby, for me, for Mrs. Smyre, and for all the people in my town, even the bad ones who’d vandalized the car.

  Ruby was standing underneath the floodlights so I could see her real good. Her shoulders were hunched over her chest. She rocked from side to side, while the tears streaked down her face.

  Some nights make you question if there really is a God in heaven. I hung my head, feeling more hopeless than I ever had before, but then Mrs. Smyre’s voice rang out. She sang the words to “We Shall Overcome.” Reverend Tyree took one of her hands and Reverend Reece took the other one. Then lots of people started singing. White or black, it made no difference, everybody’s voices blended. The notes to that song soared past the treetops until they reached the starry sky. I remembered a quote from one of Dr. King’s speeches: Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. It might be a bumpy ride, but our school was headed toward integration.