Virginia Hamilton
Page 19
The unit moved its heads to see. It sat on a cliff edge, looking down. Far below and all around it was the future.
Thomas tore himself from the unit. He ripped his way into the vast nothing between times. He found joining as a unit unbearable and he came to, hurled backward by the violent force of his re-entry into now. Falling hard on his back, he rolled over and lay low, his eyes fixed on the tree where Justice and the boys still were joined, minds as well as hands. But now the Watcher began fading out of their eyes.
Thomas stayed in a crouch as Justice looked all around, finally focusing on him, six feet away from her.
Don’t ever break contact like that again, she traced. We could have lost you between times forever and ever.
Who cares! You think I care? His tracing fairly screamed at her: I don’t care! You won’t turn me into some—unit! I won’t be some kind of monster machine controlled by you!
A person over there has to be joined, she traced. Everything over there is a group, a joining. There’s no other way to survive.
I won’t become a unit! Thomas traced furiously.
Then you won’t survive!
Thomas was shaking all over, with his arms wrapped around himself, as though he thought he might fly away in tiny pieces.
She coaxed him back over to the tree, where the four of them grouped together again. Thomas hunched over under the heavy branches. He moaned softly, his face in his hands.
Levi took hold of his brother’s shoulder. He didn’t feel weak now or have pain of any kind. But he was tired and very sad inside.
“You wanted me to show you the future,” Justice said to Thomas. “I even took you there. Not all the way in, not so you would be in danger, but partway, so you could see it and smell it, feel it and know it.”
“I … IIII,” Thomas began stuttering, and quickly entered her mind to trace: Why can’t we just stay here? We don’t even have to use our power. I won’t use it on anybody ever again, I promise. We’ve kept it a secret up until now. Why can’t we just stay here? Or even help people, if you want. Who needs a unit!
Thomas, don’t you see? Justice traced. We can’t use it here.
Before she had ceased tracing, Levi could certainly see that. Still connected to Justice’s mind, he saw the problem they would face in the present. Grimly, he nodded. Glancing at Dorian, he found that he, too, had seen. He and Dorian accepted the unit she had made of them. Unquestionably, they knew she would never use it against them.
Justice sighed. Gazing at Thomas, she hated seeing the grief and despair he had not yet realized shone through his eyes.
“Thomas, we’re the first,” she said, attempting to explain. “And why we are isn’t important now. We just are, so stop and think what that means. There are people who would give anything to control our power. There’s no telling what they might do to us.”
Thomas had already thought of this and he nodded agreement. But you could stop anyone, Justice, he traced.
Oh, maybe for a time, she traced. But not forever. And the authorities would certainly get in on it. They’d want to take the four of us away someplace safe to study us.
“But you don’t have to go even that far,” she said quietly. “Think about Mom and Dad. Think what it would be like for them to know their three kids—”
She broke off, aware that Thomas was feeling the overwhelming sadness she had already seen in his eyes.
“Thomas …”
I want … , he traced. I … just want … to be the way we were. I want … I want to go home and see Mom and Dad. His chest heaved up and down in a rush of emotion. His eyes filled, but he did not cry.
Justice touched him on the wrist, but soon drew her hand away. Thomas could recover by himself. He pulled himself in. They all did. Each remembering what this summer had been like. Thomas and Levi, age thirteen. Justice, age eleven. Dorian, thirteen in a couple of weeks. Themselves being kids. Their moms and dads.
At least Dorian’s mom knows about us. Thomas traced what they all had been thinking. She knows because she’s … He didn’t know what he should call Mrs. Jefferson.
She’s a Sensitive, Justice traced. She discovered my power and she helped me recognize it and use it sensibly. She’ll help us, Thomas. She’ll help get you over this part that’s so sad.
“I went through feeling that way yesterday,” Justice told them. “I guess, all our lives, that kind of feeling of separation will come over us. That’s why we have to stick together.”
I still don’t see how we can go to the future and remain right here, too, Thomas traced.
You saw a little of how it’s done a few minutes ago, Justice traced. And you saw what a shock going can be. We need Mrs. Jefferson to prepare you and Levi. Then Dorian and I will teach you the rest. But for now …
She paused, telepathically checking on Levi to see if he had rested long enough.
I’m fine now, Levi traced. Yet he felt melancholy, as they all did. He was deeply shaken—they all were—to comprehend finally how different the four of them were from everyone else. They’d have to work hard to live with it. And he felt Justice’s awareness agree with him.
But I won’t be part of any unit, Thomas broke in on all of them, tracing to them all. I’ll be me, alone, if I have to. You wait and see.
“Come on,” Justice said to them. She would let Thomas believe what he liked.
Together, all of them left the protection of the shade trees. Stepping in the midst of writhing creatures, they found the day, the black river, everything, just as it had been—a heat-drenched day under a burning sky.
“The Great Snake Race is over and done,” Justice said.
“And you won it,” Dorian reminded her. He didn’t care to discuss winning and losing. But Thomas had overheard.
I had eighteen snakes, carefully he traced in their minds. I could have won it, but that wouldnt’ve been fair to the other guys and Slick. He gazed, unblinking, at Justice. Something of his old self shone through.
“Meaning,” she said, “I shouldn’t have won it because I’m your sister, I’m a relative. Well, I honestly didn’t know that my snake was pregnant. I won it fair and square.”
Thomas had to smile, they all did, when it flashed through their minds what a shock it had been seeing all those baby snakes.
“Eight-t-t-teen,” Thomas said softly, and traced: I come in second there, too. He kicked his sneaker in the dirt.
Levi said, “I don’t know how the two of you can go on so calmly about the snake race, with all that’s happened.” He looked troubled. “There’s a lot we need to talk about. I mean, when we go to the future, do we have our bodies? And how are we supposed to act while we’re here in the present? Do we use power only through the unit?”
Justice was looking at him as from a great distance.
Somewhere in him, and in all of them, was the Watcher, tracing, Not to worry, Levi. Day by day, it will be dealt with.
“Come on,” Justice said to them. For a split second, her voice vibrated around them. When it ceased, all was still.
They started back. Thomas and Levi took the lead, while Justice brought up the rear with Dorian.
She was feeling very good. She was Justice. Not very big, age eleven. She was Justice, the Watcher. Given power because it was needed. Not now, but in another place and time. She didn’t mind it that she had been born in the wrong age. And she was content to be different as long as she was not alone. She would never be alone again.
They had started slowly through the high weeds. By the time they were over the fence, they were dripping with sweat. Wiping their wet hands on their pants legs and shirts, they picked up their bikes and hurried to be gone. Not Justice, not the others, gave a glance backward toward the Quinella Trace. Black-water river, they knew they would be seeing it and its future day upon day.
They were on their bikes, Thomas in the lead. Instantly, they raced in a flurry of shining, spinning wheels and glinting metal. Hollers, and grunting from the exertion of
climbing hills too fast. They had nothing more on their minds than beating the heat across town. Fresh cold drinks of water. Of getting home.
Kids.
A Biography of Virginia Hamilton
Virginia Hamilton (1934–2002) was the author of forty-one books for young readers and their older allies, including M.C. Higgins, the Great, which won the National Book Award, the Newbery Medal, and the Boston Globe-Horn Book Award, three of the most prestigious awards in youth literature. Hamilton’s many successful titles earned her numerous other awards, including the international Hans Christian Andersen Award, which honors authors who have made exceptional contributions to children’s literature, the Coretta Scott King Award, and a MacArthur Fellowship, or “Genius Award.”
Virginia Esther Hamilton was born in 1934 outside the college town of Yellow Springs, Ohio. She was the youngest of five children born to Kenneth James and Etta Belle Perry Hamilton. Her grandfather on her mother’s side, a man named Levi Perry, had been brought to the area as an infant probably through the Underground Railroad shortly before the Civil War. Hamilton grew up amid a large extended family in picturesque farmlands and forests. She loved her home and would end up spending much of her adult life in the area.
Hamilton excelled as a student and graduated at the top of her high school class, winning a full scholarship to Antioch College in Yellow Springs. Hamilton transferred to Ohio State University in nearby Columbus, Ohio, in order to study literature and creative writing. In 1958, she moved to New York City in hopes of publishing her fiction. During her early years in New York, she supported herself with jobs as an accountant, a museum receptionist, and even a nightclub singer. She took additional writing courses at the New School for Social Research and continued to meet other writers, including the poet Arnold Adoff, whom she married in 1960. The couple had two children, daughter Leigh in 1963 and son Jaime in 1967. In 1969, the family moved to Yellow Springs and built a new home on the old Perry-Hamilton farm. Here, Virginia and Arnold were able to devote more time to writing books.
Hamilton’s first published novel, Zeely, was published in 1967. Zeely was an instant success, winning a Nancy Bloch Award and earning recognition as an American Library Association Notable Children’s Book. After returning to Yellow Springs with her young family, Hamilton began to write and publish a book nearly every year. Though most of her writing targeted young adults or children, she experimented in a wide range of styles and genres. Her second book, The House of Dies Drear (1968), is a haunting mystery that won the Edgar Allan Poe Award. The Planet of Junior Brown (1971) and Sweet Whispers, Brother Rush (1982) rely on elements of fantasy and science fiction. Many of her titles focus on the importance of family, including M.C. Higgins, the Great (1974) and Cousins (1990). Much of Hamilton’s work explores African American history, such as her fictionalized account Anthony Burns: The Defeat and Triumph of a Fugitive Slave (1988).
Hamilton passed away in 2002 after a long battle with breast cancer. She is survived by her husband Arnold Adoff and their two children.
For further information, please visit Hamilton’s updated and comprehensive website: www.virginiahamilton.com
A twelve-year-old Hamilton in 1948, when she was in the seventh grade.
Hamilton at a New York City club while she was a student at Antioch College in the mid-1950s. She often performed as a folk and jazz vocalist in clubs and larger venues.
Hamilton with her brothers, Buster and Bill, and sisters, Barbara and Nina, around 1954.
Hamilton’s head shots. The first was taken while she was a teenager in the early 1950s. The second was taken in her New York City apartment in the late 1960s, before she and Adoff built their house in Yellow Springs.
Hamilton outside of her first New York City apartment, which she shared with Adoff, around 1960. The couple moved to a below-street-level single room on Jane Street and, Adoff says, “thought we were such hot stuff, living in the Village and taking our places in that wonderful and long line of writers banging their heads against the wall . . . but in style.”
Adoff and Hamilton in Gibraltar in 1960, after a hard day of shopping and climbing the rock seen in the photo. As Adoff recalls, “This was the first time I convinced Virginia to sell everything but the books and leave America forever. It was also our delayed honeymoon. We made our way from Bremen to Paris to Málaga to a residency in Torremolinos, Spain, where we worked on our manuscripts and took side trips. This was one of them.”
Taken in 1965 in Argelès-plage, France, this photo shows the building where Hamilton and Adoff rented an apartment during what Adoff calls their “second time leaving America forever . . .”
Hamilton, Jaime, and Leigh at a reception at the Yellow Springs Public Library in 1975 after she received the Newbery Medal.
Hamilton at the publication party for Jaguarundi. She attended hundreds of conferences and book signings at schools and libraries around the country as each of her books was published.
Hamilton, Adoff, Leigh, and Jaime at Leigh’s wedding in Berlin in 2001.
Hamilton on Thanksgiving in 2001. This photo was taken by her niece, Nina Rios, a professional photographer, after Hamilton’s last round of chemotherapy, only a few months before her death.
All photos © 2011 by the Arnold Adoff Revocable Living Trust. Used by permission. Portrait courtesy of Jimmy Byrge.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
copyright © 1978 by Virginia Hamilton
cover design by Connie Gabbert
978-1-4532-3721-2
This edition published in 2011 by Open Road Integrated Media
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New York, NY 10014
www.openroadmedia.com
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