Seeing Red

by Kathryn Erskine

  “I’ll come if you think the gang – the Brotherhood – can help me.”

  “Of course we can. You have to show you’re worth it, though.”

  “How?”

  “Glen will tell you.”

  I got the feeling that Darrell didn’t have a clue. In fact, I wasn’t convinced he was even a real member of the gang. Still I was desperate. “All right, I’ll come.”

  He pointed his finger in my face. “I’m sticking my neck out for you, pipsqueak, so you’d better behave.” He turned on his boot heels and walked awkwardly back home.

  Late that night Larry led us up the hill with his flashlight held low to the ground, “so Uncle Kenny don’t see us,” he whispered, as if Kenny could hear us all the way up the mountain.

  I heard the gang’s voices before I could see them, talking softly and occasionally laughing. When we got close, Larry’s flashlight lit up the faces of half a dozen guys. They were mostly the guys from Kenny’s earlier that week. Every one of them had a black cross drawn on his right cheek, except Glen, who had a big black smudge on his puffed-up cheek and what looked like the beginnings of a black eye. He also had a white scarf thrown around his neck, which was weird, considering how warm it was.

  He raised his arm to cover the banged-up side of his face. “Cut the dang light!”

  Larry turned it off and we were in darkness.

  “What’s with the crosses?” I whispered to Darrell.

  “Nobody told me,” he said, and swore under his breath.

  “Password?” Glen demanded.

  I looked at Darrell.

  Darrell looked at Larry, who looked back at him. “You,” Larry said.

  “Brotherhood?” Darrell asked.

  “Figures,” a deep voice to the right of us said. “That must be Dunlop.”

  Glen sighed. “Brotherhood is our name, stupid. The password is ‘Burn ’em all’. ”

  “What’s a kid doing here?” the deep voice said.

  I looked into the darkness and could barely make out the figure, standing off to the right of the gang, leaning against a tree. When I stared harder, I saw it was actually two figures, one much bigger than the other.

  “It’s all right, Joe,” Glen called over to the tree. “Porter needs help. And it’s just the type of problem the Brotherhood is here to take care of. Come on over here.”

  Me and Darrell both started walking until Glen barked, “Not you, Dunlop! Porter.”

  I felt a little bad for Darrell as I left his side and stood next to Glen.

  Larry somehow knew to turn the flashlight on low, aimed at Glen’s feet, and Glen warmed up to it. He cleared his throat and tugged on the white scarf around his neck. “Porter, your family has owned that land almost as long as my family has owned ours. You deserve to stay here. And we don’t want any outsiders moving in, if you know what I mean.”

  I didn’t know what he meant, but I didn’t want anyone buying our place so I nodded.

  “That’s right. Do you think your great-great-grandfather took care of this land for them?”

  I didn’t know exactly who them was, but Glen was staring at me for an answer.

  “No,” I said, “he was taking care of it for us Porters.”

  “Exactly.” Glen put his arm around my shoulders like I’d seen his daddy do to people a hundred times. “We don’t need any of them moving in on our land, do we?”

  “No.”

  “That’s right, Porter.”

  “So,” I said, “how are you going to stop it?”

  He gave that politician chuckle. “You mean, how are we going to stop it? First you need to be a part of the Brotherhood. Are you in?”

  I looked at Glen’s swollen face. “I— I guess so.”

  “Oh, you need to be a little more enthusiastic, young Porter.” Glen talked like he was as grown up as his daddy. “Virginia passed a law this spring allowing anyone to buy property. Do you know what that means?” He explained that anyone meant blacks, too. Only he didn’t say blacks. He used a bunch of names that Daddy said would get our mouths washed out with soap if he ever heard such language.

  “I know you agree, don’t you, Porter?”

  “I don’t want anyone buying my land,” I said. “I don’t care who it is.”

  “Well, we can stop that for you. We have friends in high places.” Then he talked on and on about keeping our land white and the importance of our heritage and the legacy of our founding fathers, sounding like a politician. I knew he was being a bigot, which I didn’t care for, but I needed the Brotherhood’s help to stop the sale.

  Finally Glen took his arm from my shoulder and rubbed his hands together. “Now, we’ll do a purification ceremony. That’s your initiation. Are you ready to join the Brotherhood?”

  I felt queasy, but the idea of losing my home felt even worse. So I nodded.

  “Good. Larry, give me that flashlight.” The shaft of light wobbled along with Larry as he crunched through the leaves.

  “You,” said Glen, aiming the beam at a small clearing, “are going to set that on fire.”

  I followed the beam of light. A yardstick was stuck in the dirt. About a foot down from the top, a ruler was attached to it with wire horizontally. It was a cross.

  I knew what it meant to set fire to a cross. The only folks who did that were the Ku Klux Klan. Or the folks who tried to do that in Thomas’s grandparents’ front yard. They did it to be hateful. I swallowed hard to keep the queasiness in my stomach from coming up. “A cross? Why?”

  Glen flashed the light on the faces of the gang members as they squinted from the brightness. “See those crosses? That’s why.”

  That didn’t really answer the question.

  “It’s for the Brotherhood,” he added. “You do it for the Brotherhood and you’re one of us.”

  “But burning a cross? You can’t do that. That’s like—”

  “It’s just a symbol,” Glen said.

  Over by the tree Joe muttered something.

  Glen held a lighter out to me.

  I realized something, and my throat went dry. “Did – were you—” I coughed.

  “Spit it out, Porter,” Glen said, his voice weary.

  “Did you guys…” I wanted to ask if they were the ones who put the cross in Thomas’s grandparents’ front yard. But as I looked at the gang of boys with crosses on their grim faces I lost my nerve.

  Glen shook his head like he couldn’t believe me. “We’re Christian, okay? It’s not like we’re the KKK!” His voice turned calm and soothing. “Don’t worry, Porter. It’s okay. It’s only three feet high. Like I said, it’s just a symbol. Besides, no one will see you.”

  I thought about what he said, and he was right. No black person would see, anyway, and that was all that mattered. But I couldn’t help feeling a little sick.

  I took the lighter and walked over to the cross, kneeling in front of it. The sharp smell of kerosene hit my nose, and I noticed the cross was wet with it. The ground was cleared of leaves and sticks in about a ten foot circle, for safety, I figured.

  It took me a few tries to flick the lighter on because my hand was shaking, but I finally got it started. The yardstick caught fire right away. I stepped back.

  Yellow flames shot up, and the thick black smoke stung my eyes. The fire spread out across the ruler and it looked just like a cross, a burning cross. We were all quiet, staring at it, until Larry spoke.

  “I sure hope Uncle Kenny don’t see this. You better put it out!”

  “Quit worrying,” Glen said.

  Still I fell on my knees real quick and threw handfuls of dirt on it. It felt good to put it out. “Okay,” I said, standing up, “now can we talk about how to stop the sale?”

  “Just one more thing to prove you’re worthy of the Brotherhood,” Glen said.

  “But I just—”

  He held up his hand, his face losing its friendliness. “It’s a privilege being in this group with all its power. It’s a small price to pay t
o show your loyalty to the Brotherhood. Bring him over, Joe.”

  At first I thought they were talking about me because they pushed me around until I was standing as part of a circle of guys around the burned-out cross. But when I heard a scuffling over at the tree, I looked behind me, trying to make out the two figures in the blackness. Joe was the big guy with the low voice. The other was smaller and skinnier.

  When Glen flashed the light on the tree I saw who the other person was. Thomas. My mouth dropped open and my legs about dropped to the ground.

  He had a cut on his brow that was bleeding down his cheek. I couldn’t see all of his face because there was a gag over his mouth. And he wasn’t just standing by the tree; he was tied to it. I heard myself gasp.

  With his busted up face, Thomas must’ve been the one who got in a fight with Glen, and that was bad news. What were they going to do to him? When Joe untied him from the tree, I saw that Thomas’s hands were tied behind his back. I thought I was going to throw up.

  I looked around fast. Darrell was on my left, the far side of where Glen stood. “It’s Thomas!” I whispered.

  “Shut up,” he hissed.

  “But it’s Thomas!”

  He shrugged, but his eyes were as stricken as the times Mr Dunlop ordered him to the shed, which got me even more scared.

  I turned, and Thomas was staring at me with something between disbelief and disgust, like I was part of the Brotherhood. And I started shaking then, because I realized that he’d been here the whole time. He’d seen everything. Me, going along with Glen. Me, burning the cross. Walking right over and lighting one on fire. Just like those people tried to do to him. It was all there in his eyes.

  I had to look away.

  I heard Joe bring him into the circle with the burned cross. When I had the guts to look at Thomas, I saw his gag was off but he stood with his lips clamped shut and his jaw stuck out. His hands were still tied behind his back.

  “What’s going on?” I said, but my voice came out as a whisper.

  The light was shining full on Thomas.

  “Welcome to the trial,” Glen said in an important voice, “of the so-called Thomas Jefferson, impersonator of our founding father and author of the Declaration of Independence.”

  The Brotherhood laughed and sneered, repeating, “Thomas Jefferson.”

  I cringed, remembering how I’d laughed at Thomas when I’d learned about the president Thomas Jefferson, because I thought it was funny that a kid would have the same name. I hoped Thomas didn’t remember that.

  “How dare you impersonate a president?” Glen demanded.

  “It’s just his name,” I said quietly.

  “Shut up, unless you want to join him, Porter!” Glen snapped, flashing the light on me.

  I flinched because suddenly he didn’t seem so fond of me.

  The light went back to Thomas. “The accused is also guilty of attacking a member of the Brotherhood.” In the darkness I could see Glen’s hand go up to his right cheek, touching it gingerly. “In return you will feel the wrath of the Brotherhood. You need to learn a thing or two.”

  “What are they going to do?” I hissed at Darrell.

  “They’re just messing with his head.”

  The flashlight shone on me and Darrell, and Glen cleared his throat, loudly. “Is there something you want to say, Porter?”

  I looked at the ground and shut up fast.

  Glen turned the light back on Thomas. “We need to show him what happens when his kind gets uppity. Larry!”

  The light swung to Larry, who was standing opposite me. His eyes were wide, even though the flashlight was in his face. He looked around like he was hoping there was another Larry in the group.

  “Well,” said Glen, “go on. Kick him.”

  Larry shrugged and gave Thomas a little kick in the shin.

  “Not like that!” Glen said. “Like this.” He kicked Thomas hard in the stomach, and Thomas bent over, his eyes squeezed shut. I winced, too, because that was exactly where I’d punched Thomas that night at Kenny’s.

  “Stop it, guys,” I said, my voice much weaker than I wanted it to sound, but I was shaking because I’d never been so scared in my life.

  “Shut up, kid,” Joe said next to me, as he kicked Thomas in the back.

  Thomas let out a cry before clamping his mouth shut again.

  “Stop it,” I said, louder this time.

  “It’s your turn,” Glen said.

  “I-I’m not kicking him.”

  “Just give him a little kick,” Darrell murmured.

  “No!”

  Darrell grabbed my arm, hissing in my ear, “Play along so it’ll be over!”

  “Come on,” said one of the guys I didn’t know, “let’s get it over with.”

  “See?” Darrell whispered.

  Thomas wasn’t looking at me. Even when I took a step towards him, he stared at the ground. I hesitated, then raised my leg and pushed it against his hip, more of a nudge than a kick. Even so, he stumbled backwards like I’d punched him.

  “A real kick, Porter,” Glen said, his voice rising. “The Brotherhood is waiting!”

  Thomas raised his head to look at me, and his eyes told me everything: anger, sadness, resentment, disappointment. Betrayal. As hard as it was to look at him, his eyes gave me the strength to do what I did next.

  I stepped back from the circle, shaking my head. “I don’t want to be in the Brotherhood any more.”

  Glen and Joe grinned at each other before Glen looked back at me. “Oh, it’s too late for that, Porter. You’re already in deep.”

  “Why?”

  He tilted his head. “Because you’re the one who lit a fire on Kenny Rae Campbell’s property. And not just any fire…a cross!”

  I felt that sick feeling in my stomach again.

  “So kick him.”

  I shook my head.

  “Joe!” Glen yelled.

  Joe was on me in a flash, one arm crushing my back against his chest, the other wrenching my right arm behind me. “Stop!” I cried, and heard, at the same time.

  Only my “stop!” came out all screamy because my arm hurt real bad. The other “stop!” was so loud and commanding it even made Joe loosen his grip on my arm. I looked to where the sound came from and I realized it was Thomas.

  He stood in the spotlight looking taller and stronger than he had a minute ago. There was no fear any more. The blood on his face only made him look tougher.

  “Leave him alone,” Thomas said, his teeth gritted and his voice shaking in anger.

  It was weird how everyone froze and did what he said, for a moment at least. He was the one with his hands tied. And there were ten guys against him.

  “Who’s your friend, Porter?” Glen finally said. “You one of them?”

  That seemed to wake Joe up, and he twisted my arm until I heard my shoulder pop out of its socket and I screamed again.

  “I said, leave him alone!” Thomas’s voice ended like the howl of a dog left out in the cold too long. He rushed towards us until two guys grabbed him and threw him on the ground.

  A second later I was thrown into the circle, too. My right cheek hit the burned cross as I went down, and I could smell the charred wood and kerosene. It was still warm. I lifted my head and turned it, facing Thomas. His eyes flashed at my cheek and stared at me for a moment before looking away. And I knew from the darkness in his eyes that I had a black mark on my right cheek, just like the Brotherhood.

  “Well, Porter,” said Glen, “since you broke the circle and we couldn’t finish the punishment, now we have to up the ante.”

  Something landed with a thud between Thomas and me, spraying dirt in my eye. It took me a moment of blinking before I could see what it was.

  A rope. With a noose. Right in front of Thomas’s face. He was staring at it like it was alive, like maybe if he didn’t move, didn’t breathe, it wouldn’t kill him.

  I looked up and saw Darrell at the edge of the flashlight beam. I st
ared at him, my eyes saying, Do something, Darrell! Stop them!

  He stared back. I think he’d gone whiter than me, and his eyes were shouting even louder, Do something, Red!

  At that moment, I got more mad than scared. Darrell was the one who brought me here. This was supposed to be his gang, his people. And he was three years older than me. And now, here he was, staring at me like a useless person. How in the name of heaven was I supposed to stop this thing? By myself?

  I had to try something, anything. “The cops wouldn’t like this!” I said.

  But Glen only laughed. “What wouldn’t the cops like? The fact that this boy attacked me? The fact that me and my buddies are just trying to tell him how to behave?”

  “Ten against one?” I said. “With his hands tied?”

  “Oh, we’d untie him, and there’s only a couple of us here, right, boys? The rest will slip off into the night.”

  “Well, Thomas can tell the real story.” I looked at Thomas, hoping to see redemption in his eyes, but he looked back at me like I was so ignorant he pitied me. If he hadn’t been too scared to move, I bet he would’ve been shaking his head at me.

  I swallowed hard and realized it was up to me. “And – and I’d tell them, too.”

  “Who’s going to believe a little brat?” Glen said, his voice turning cold. “Especially if his mama or his baby brother might get hurt if he opens his mouth.”

  What? I tried to say, but it didn’t come out because I was stunned. Was he threatening to do something to Mama or J? To cover up his lie? Hurt innocent people so he could keep his stupid Brotherhood going? When I looked at the ugly smile on his face I knew the answer was yes.

  Darrell laughed an awkward laugh. “Come on, he’s just a dumb kid.”

  “Shut up, Dunlop,” Glen said, losing his smile. “Joe?”

  Joe grabbed the noose and Thomas, lifting them both.

  “No!” I yelled, scrambling to my feet.

  Joe shoved me to the ground.

  Larry stepped forward. “Hey, guys, I thought we were just scaring him. You can’t –” he looked at the noose in Joe’s hand – “you know…not on my uncle Kenny’s property.”

  But Joe kept dragging Thomas to the tree where he’d been tied up. I tried to run after him, but someone was on top of me. “NO!” I screamed.