Whoa, it felt good to get all that out, and for a moment she just stared at me.
“You’re probably right,” she said, “but it doesn’t matter. I’m leaving.”
“You’re … already?”
“David and I split up.” I thought she was crying, but she turned her head away from me so I wouldn’t see as she went back to digging in her suitcase. “And I was never so bored as I was this morning listening to those speeches. You sat through them all day? I couldn’t stand it. So I know I’m in the wrong place for me. I’m leaving in the morning.”
I was quiet for a moment, taking this in. “You were doing this because David was?” I asked.
“I thought I could get into it but it’s just not how I want to spend my summer.”
“Can I … can I help you with anything?” I asked.
“Just go back to sleep.”
I lay down and rolled onto my side facing the wall. I heard her open the door to the closet as sleep finally found me, and when I woke up early in the morning, she was gone.
* * *
Peggy was not the only student who left. Over breakfast, I heard whispers of at least two other students leaving. It was probably good they left now, before the hard work began. I was determined not to be one of them.
I was sitting across from a guy as I ate, and he smiled at me. “I love the food in the South,” he said, nodding to the biscuits and sausage gravy on his plate. My own plate held scrambled eggs and grits. My usual breakfast.
“Where are you from?” I asked.
“New Jersey, where I’d be eating pork roll and eggs and hash browns.” He grinned. He looked as though he wore a perpetual smile. “You’re from down here, obviously. With that accent.” He had a pretty significant accent of his own.
“You could tell from that one sentence?”
“Oh yeah,” he said. “South Carolina?” he guessed.
“North,” I said.
“Well, good for you.” He took a forkful of his biscuit. Chewed and swallowed. “They told us Southern students wouldn’t work out, though.”
“I’m beginning to wonder,” I said, thinking of my conversation with Hosea Williams.
“Maybe you can lose that accent.” He looked doubtful.
“Is it really that strong?”
“Wow. Yeah.”
“Wow. Yeah,” I repeated, trying to imitate him. “How was that?”
He seemed to find it uproariously funny. “What’s your name?” he asked, when he’d finished laughing.
“Eleanor. Ellie.”
“Well, Ellie,” he said. “You look like you’re up for a challenge. What’re you doing with SCOPE?”
“I want to help,” I said simply. “Same as everyone else.”
“Cool,” he said. “I’m John. Happy to meet you.”
“You too.”
“Actually, this is my third trip South this past year. And to be honest, I’ve gotten to really crave biscuits and gravy.”
I gave him a quizzical look. “Third?”
“I was in Mississippi last summer, doing civil rights work. And I was out here just a few months ago for the Selma march. The third march. The big one. The one where no one got killed,” he added soberly.
This guy didn’t just talk about doing the work, I thought. He actually did it. “It must have been … it must have felt so good, being in that Selma march. Knowing what it meant.”
“It did indeed,” he said.
“You’re courageous,” I said. “You didn’t know how that march would turn out. That you’d be safe.”
He smiled. “I’m committed,” he said.
“Are you a student?” He looked too old, but how else would he have time to be a civil rights worker?
“Seminary,” he said.
I nodded. I could picture him as a preacher.
We were quiet for a moment. I swallowed a mouthful of grits, looking around the cafeteria. “I think I’m the only Southern white person here,” I said finally to break the silence.
“You may be right,” he said. “Your accent’s nice, but it does make you more … vulnerable. You’ll have to work harder to let people know you’re on their side.”
“I’m nervous,” I admitted.
“I understand,” he said.
“Were you nervous? Last summer, knowing other workers had been killed? And in the march, knowing—”
“Yes, of course.” He smiled at me with sympathy. “By the end of this week, you’ll feel less jittery, but you need to keep some of those nerves. Don’t let your guard down. There are people down here who’d just as soon kill a civil rights worker than look at one. The trick is to stay focused on the goal. Keep your eyes on the prize, like they say in the song. That’s all you can do, Ellie May.”