A woman in a red suit jacket and clicking high heels entered from a rear door and picked up a microphone. Her voice echoed throughout the school, welcoming the students, listing coming tryouts for school teams, choirs, and clubs. The national anthem followed her greetings. Those in the office stood at attention, so Felicia did too.
After that, the woman in the red jacket came over and introduced herself. Her handshake was warm, her smile welcoming.
“I’m Mrs. Mackie, the school principal. You’re in Grade Eight, right?” She turned to introduce another girl who had entered the office. “Dorothy will take you to your class.” Dorothy looked with interest at Felicia. The two girls left the office and started down the corridor together.
“What did you say your name was?”
“Felicia.”
“Wow, that’s so pretty.”
“Dorothy’s nice.”
“For an old lady! I don’t know what my parents were thinking when they came up with my name. You can call me Dodie. Everybody does.”
Felicia glanced at Dorothy as they walked along, noticed her rosy cheeks, her glossy brown braids held in place with butterfly clips.
“I like the way your hair looks.”
Dorothy turned to examine Felicia’s beaded braids. “I’ve never seen any like yours up close. How do you make them like that, so tiny?”
“My grandmother did it for me.”
They arrived at the classroom door. Dorothy breezed through and Felicia followed, her heart in her throat. She hoped the teacher was nice and wouldn’t ask the class to greet her. There was a hum of voices, and nobody stared at her. The teacher put her hand on Felicia’s shoulder.
“Attention, everyone! I want you to say hello to your new classmate.”
The room became quiet. A few heads swiveled in Felicia’s direction. Someone said “Hi.”
Felicia tried to keep smiling, ignored her churning stomach. She noticed two girls at the back of the room putting their heads together, one with her hand covering her mouth, whispering.
The teacher’s hand squeezed her shoulder. “What’s your name, dear?”
“Felicia.”
“Lovely. I’m Miss Peabody.” Felicia felt herself propelled toward a desk. “Here’s your spot. Have a seat.”
Felicia sat down with relief. Lined notebooks were distributed. Miss Peabody talked and wrote on the board at the same time. When she underlined a word, the chalk broke in the middle of her sentence. She picked up another piece and continued. Felicia tried to pay attention, but her mind was buzzing. She stared straight ahead at the board, but the words meant nothing to her.
Relax. Stay calm.
Felicia’s grandmother had advised her to take deep breaths and count to ten when she was upset, so she inhaled deeply. The room was hot and stuffy. Perspiration began to trickle down her side.
I should have just worn the T-shirt instead of all this other stuff.
But it was too late to change her wardrobe, and since she didn’t have a locker yet, she had nowhere to put the extra clothes. Felicia pushed the sleeves of her sweater up to her elbows and felt some relief. The words on the blackboard began to clear. She started to write them down in her notebook, trying not to pay attention to the whispering behind her, but her hand clenched as she heard the distinct words.
“What is it with the teeny weenie braids?”
“Her hair is so fuzzy.”
“Kind of weird.”
“Totally.”
Chapter 5
Flower
THE RIVER was not as close as Eldon had thought. They scrambled and scraped their way toward it, but it remained elusive in the distance. Flower’s father urged them forward, his breathing labored. “Hurry! Hurry!”
“I’m trying to, Pa.”
“Try harder!”
“I’m hurrying as fast as I can.”
“Don’t talk back to me, child! We need to move!” He grabbed Flower by the arm. Her feet stumbled over one another, and the skin on her arm burned under his grip.
“She’s trying. Why are you being so harsh?” asked Cleo.
“The two of you should be listening to me…I’m doing my best to lead you…and getting nothing but sass.”
“We’re doing our best to follow. We’re tired. Let’s rest for a bit.”
“There’s no time, I tell you!” Eldon gave his wife a tug. Startled, she fell in a heap, and the baby began to cry.
“We’re your kin, not your slaves. Remember that!” Cleo’s eyes blazed up at her husband, then she turned to shush and comfort Gabriel.
Eldon knelt beside his wife. He tried to take her in his arms, but she pushed him away and turned her face to the whimpering baby.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But time is running out…we have to meet a man—I’m not sure where—to take us across the river.”
“Will he wait for us?”
“I don’t know.”
Flower’s parents looked steadily at each other, then Eldon helped his wife to her feet. The family started to walk again. Flower had never seen her father act like that. It frightened her to see him frightened. She knew what fear looked like. She had seen and heard things, back where they’d come from. Sometimes there were cries in the night in the shared bunkhouse. She remembered her mother bathing the bleeding backs of two men who had been beaten after they tried to run away. She knew if the family got caught they could face the same punishment. She wondered if there might be a way for them to slip back to the plantation before their absence had been noticed, and before the master knew what they had done. But her father continued to lead them in another direction.
As the sun came up, she heard the swish of moving water, smelled the dampness of approaching wetland. The ground became muddy, the gumbo sucking at her shoes. Flower unknowingly approached a nest and jumped with alarm as the startled bird shot up into the sky.
“Time for us to make our own nest.” Eldon led them to a tangled grove on higher ground, wearily arranged extra branches for cover. The family settled in.
It was late afternoon when Flower awoke. Without disturbing her parents, she slipped out of their hiding place. Within a few minutes she spotted a felled tree, mossy with age. Flower lifted her skirt and perched on it. A small squirrel scurried through the fallen leaves and sat for a moment with his paws up against his face, filling his cheeks with food. Flower held her hand out to him, but he disappeared under a bush.
She wondered how close they were to the river. Perhaps the man was there. It would be wonderful if Flower saw him—she could return to her father and tell him that help was waiting. How relieved he would be! She stood and rearranged her clothing and began to walk.
Her feet were noiseless on the carpeted ground. The forest floor was soft and pliable, the trees far apart, beams of light angling between them. She promised herself she wouldn’t go far. Her parents might reach for her in their sleep. They would come awake fearful of where she was.
The sound of the rushing river increased. Suddenly, just ahead, she saw a man. He was hunched over the water, bringing his cupped hands up to his mouth, drinking from the river as it flowed by. Flower stood motionless. He turned and looked at her.
She had never seen such a monstrous face: charred dark as if from a fire, lumpy and misshapen. Only one eye was open, and it glared at her. She gasped and spun around, tried to run, but wasn’t fast enough. Terror made her clumsy. Within a breath, he was upon her, and a cold, wet hand was clamped against her mouth, stifling her desperate cry for her father.
CHAPTER 6
Felicia
FELICIA FOLLOWED the other students down the hallway, hoped they were heading for a cafeteria. Her upset stomach was gone, and now she was hungry. They formed groups and headed in different directions, most of them outdoors. Felicia tried to walk as if she had a destination. The gym and the l
ibrary were easily found, but where was the cafeteria? If she were back in Toronto, in that comfortable stew of colors and accents, she would be having lunch with Lenore and Rosalee, surrounded by kids she knew, some of them with “fuzzy” hair like hers. Here she felt like a visiting stranger. The whisperers at the back of the classroom had demolished the little confidence she had with their nasty comments about her hair. She overheard someone in the hallway talking about a lunch pit and followed him outside.
She stepped through the doors, and the early September heat hit her like a blast from a furnace. The boy walked toward a central area where many students were congregating—that must be the lunch pit. Felicia swept by that group as if she had someone to meet, someone waiting for her. She considered leaving for home but wasn’t sure of the way. There was a white truck with an ice-cream-cone logo on its side parked on the street. Food! Felicia checked her wallet. She had just enough for a hot dog and an ice cream bar.
Felicia purchased her lunch, found leafy shelter beneath a large maple tree, and sank to the grass. She bolted the wiener and bun, then savored the blend of chocolate and ice cream as it melted on her tongue.
The schoolyard was alive with play. There were at least three pickup basketball games, the balls lazily looping through the air, and voices laughing, shouting, calling to each other. Felicia felt alone again, longed to join in, but felt stiff with shyness and encumbered by her mountain of clothing. She wiped the perspiration from her forehead with her sleeve and stayed on the sidelines. It was terrible to sit alone. If only they had stayed in the city, where she had friends. Now we have to live in geeky old Plainsville. There had been no discussion about moving. Felicia had not been asked what she would like.
“Hey, Felicity!”
She turned and saw Dodie. “It’s Felicia.”
“Sorry. Aren’t you boiling?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Dodie dropped to her knees on the ground, followed by two other girls. “At least you’re in the shade.”
Dodie introduced Felicia to Renate, who had curly hair and dancing dark eyes, and Sophie, who was red-haired and freckled. “We started to play tetherball, but it was too hot.”
“I guess,” said Felicia.
“And we have gym after lunch.”
“You’re kidding!” Felicia wondered how she would manage with her winter wardrobe in the gym. “Outside?”
“Could be. Or, we could complain about the heat, and Miss Peabody might let us play volleyball inside.”
“I like volleyball,” said Felicia.
“Are you good at sports?” asked Sophie.
“Some. It depends.”
“Sophie is an excellent tennis player,” said Dodie. “And we all like to ride.”
“Bikes?” asked Felicia.
“No, horses!”
She tried to imagine Dodie, Renate, and Sophie riding.
The buzzer rang. The girls stood and brushed grass from their clothing.
“Three more hours!”
“Sophie, please,” said Renate, “It’s only our first day.”
“Sometimes the first time is the worst time. I wish I was at the stable.”
“At least we have gym!”
The girls entered the school. The air conditioning provided some relief, but not enough for Felicia, who imagined steam rising from her body.
“Felicia, you’re so hot!” said Dodie. “Take some of your stuff off.”
“What will I do with it? I don’t have a locker yet.”
“Take off what’s extra,” said Renate, “and we’ll each wear something.” She reached for Felicia’s sweater and slid her arm into a sleeve. “This is cool. Where did you get it?”
“In Toronto.” Felicia handed her vest to Dodie and the scarf to Sophie. She was left with her T-shirt. “Thanks!”
“No problemo!”
“It’s like we’re in a fashion show.” Renate led the way as they marched together back into the classroom.
CHAPTER 7
Flower
FLOWER BIT down hard on a wet finger.
“Ow! That hurt! Why’d you have to go and do that?”
“You put your hand…over my face!”
“Quiet! To keep you quiet, that’s all.” He shook his hand in the air and gave it a pained look. “Teeth marks!” Flower started to edge away. He pushed her to the ground. “Where do you think you’re going?” She scrambled to her knees and tried to get up. “Stay there.” She sank back down to the earth and buried her face in her hands. “What’s your name? Where you from? Answer me!”
Flower raised her head and then lowered it. His face was too horrid to look at. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? Everybody knows their name.”
“My Pa is going to whup you.” Flower hoped her father would hear them and rescue her.
“Where’s your Pa, then?”
Flower looked up and beyond the man. “Here he comes.” She could see her father striding toward them through the trees, a large stick in his raised hand. She ran and clung to him.
“Don’t go pushing my child about!”
“I didn’t mean any harm.”
“It surely looked like you did.”
“I wasn’t going to hurt her. Please, I’m a slave on the run. I’m waiting for someone to help me cross the river.”
“Waiting? How long?”
“Today is four.”
Flower’s father dropped the stick and looked toward the river. “We must talk.”
Cleo, with Gabriel bouncing in her arms, rushed to embrace Flower when they returned. The hug was paired with a scolding. “Where have you been? You must stay close.” She noticed the stranger following behind. “Is this the man who is going to help us?”
“No. He’s waiting too,” Eldon said.
“Oh no.” Cleo’s voice was soft with disappointment as she turned to greet the newcomer. Flower turned her face away, heard her mother gasp. “You’re hurt!” Cleo stepped closer and studied the side of his head. “Let me see to it.” She handed the baby to her daughter.
“There’s a safer place down by the river,” said the stranger.
The family gathered their few belongings and followed him to the sheltered spot. There, Cleo tore a rag in two. She dipped one section in the river and gently washed the man’s wound, removing the crusted blood from his face, then covered his lesion with the other. His swollen eye slowly opened, and he looked at his nurse with gratitude. Flower carried her brother, sang quietly to him, and wondered how her mother could stand to touch such ugliness.
After, they sat together and shared their food. Eldon said, “Tell us your story.”
The man sat quietly as if to collect his thoughts, then began. “My name is Samuel. I come from a plantation in Georgia. The master was cruel. He treated us so bad.”
“His name?”
“Logan.”
Eldon nodded and Samuel continued. “He sold my sister. She cried and cried, and tried to hold on to me, but she was pulled away. We’d been together forever; she was the only family I had. It was too much for me. I couldn’t stand being there any longer. I decided to run away. I didn’t succeed, as you can see.” Samuel swallowed and looked at the ground. “After I was caught and returned to him, he called everyone together to watch. Then he nailed my ear to a post, drew a knife, and sliced it off.”
Poor Samuel! Flower’s fingers touched her right ear—grateful it was still there—then her mouth, as she felt a rising nausea. She closed her eyes and tried to close her mind against the dreadful images there.
“I stayed for one day, then ran again,” conti
nued Samuel.
“Terrible, terrible,” said Cleo.
Eldon brooded. “We need to leave this place. I have to wonder if the man who is supposed to help us is going to come, or whether we should try to find our own way to cross the river.”
“The river is deep and fast,” said Samuel. “We should look for a place that’s easier to cross.”
“Perhaps tonight the man will come,” said Cleo, but her voice was wistful.
CHAPTER 8
Felicia
FELICIA STEPPED down from the school bus and walked up the driveway, carrying her extra clothing. Her grandmother sat on the porch.
“What’s that you’re carrying? Have you been to a rummage sale? Or shopping?”
“I wish.” Felicia flopped down on the steps and dropped her bundle. “I’m so hot!”
“The world is heating up, there’s no doubt. We’re paying for our sins: avarice and greed.”
“Don’t those two words mean the same thing?”
“What of it?”
“You’re repeating yourself.”
“Of course. I meant to…for emphasis.” Florence changed the subject. “You managed to organize a seat on the bus.”
“Yup. No problem.”
“Good. How about the school? Were the kids friendly?”
Felicia didn’t want to repeat the words whispered behind her back in the classroom. “I met three girls. They helped me out with all this stuff.” She described the sharing and the way they had all sashayed into the classroom wearing her clothes.
Florence laughed. “They sound like good kids. Now, if Delia’s job works out as well as your school, we’ll be just fine.”
“I have homework, too, you’ll be glad to know.”
“What kind of homework are you getting on the first day of school? Weren’t you able to keep up?”
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