“I think you’re the only Southerner in the whole program,” David said as he finished his sandwich.
“The only white Southerner,” Chip corrected him.
“Right,” David said. “I guess there’ll be lots of locals working with us, wherever we land.”
“What’s this little town like? Round Hill?” Peggy asked. “It looked cute when we drove through it, with all the little shops. Very quaint. Looks like it’s from another era. But it’s mostly farms out here, right?”
Round Hill looked like it was from another era? “It’s just … a regular place,” I said. “To be honest, I’ve never been out of the Carolinas, so I don’t know any different. And you’re right—there’s a lot of farming—but my father owns the pharmacy, so we’re not farmers.”
“Your accent,” Peggy said. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”
“Yours is pretty familiar to me,” I said. “My favorite aunt grew up in New York.”
“Why’d you want to do this?” Chip asked as we moved on from the sandwiches to the pound cake.
“Probably for the same reason you do.” I shrugged. “To help people vote.”
“Most Southerners couldn’t care less if Negroes get the vote,” he said.
“Most would just as soon they never get the vote,” Peggy said. She looked at me as if for validation.
“A lot do feel that way,” I said. “But I care, which is why I’m doing something about it.”
“Where do you go to school?” Chip asked. “You’re in college, right?”
“Carolina,” I said.
“Where’s that?” David asked. “Never heard of it.”
“The University of North Carolina. In Chapel Hill? We just call it ‘Carolina.’”
“Oh, Chapel Hill I’ve heard of,” Peggy said. “That’s a really great school.”
“Yeah,” said Chip, wide-eyed, and I had the feeling their impression of me finally jumped up a few notches.
“I’m a pharmacology major there.”
“Really.” Peggy eyed me like she wasn’t quite sure what to make of me now.
Chip looked at his watch. “We should go,” he said. “We’ve got another eleven hours ahead of us.” He looked at me. “You know how to drive?”
I nodded.
“You’re a lot fresher than we are,” he said. “Can you take the first shift behind the wheel?”
I hadn’t realized I’d be expected to drive someone else’s car, but of course it made sense.
“Sure,” I said.
“Can you drive a van?” Drew asked.
I laughed. “I can drive my brother’s old pickup,” I said, “so I guess I can drive just about anything.”
We carried our plates to the sink, where I washed and dried them quickly. I didn’t want to leave them for my mother.
“We have to remember to be careful once we get to Atlanta,” David said as we walked out the front door onto the porch. “They said to stay in the Negro neighborhoods if we can.”
That seemed backward to me. “Why?” I slung the bag of books over my shoulder, then picked up my suitcase and sleeping bag. Most people I knew avoided Negro neighborhoods.
Chip took the suitcase from my hand in a gentlemanly gesture. “White people’ll be watching for us,” he said. “For the SCOPE workers. They don’t want us there. We’re a threat to them.”
“To their way of life,” David said.
“They’ll be out to get us,” Chip added.
“Oh,” I said, remembering the murdered civil rights workers. “Well, let’s be careful then.” I did not plan to become a victim.
* * *
For the first four long hours, I drove while the three of them slept. Chip was stretched out on the long middle seat, and Peggy and David, who I now realized were a couple, slept tangled up together in the back row. The only person awake, I felt alone and a little scared. Were all the students going to be like these three chilly know-it-alls? Most of them would know other students, since they were coming from the same universities. They’d have school, home states, and their very Northernness in common. I would try to win them over, and if I couldn’t, well, it didn’t matter, I told myself. I wasn’t in SCOPE to make friends. I’d keep my goal in mind: getting folks registered to vote.
Around five o’clock, I saw Peggy get to her feet in the rearview mirror and make her hunched-over way toward the front of the van, where she perched on the edge of the long middle seat. “I need a bathroom break,” she said.