“You’re na?ve.”
“You’re jaded,” I countered. “My father’s not like that.”
“You told me he didn’t want you in SCOPE,” he said.
“He didn’t want me in SCOPE because he was afraid I’d get hurt, not because he’s a racist.”
“If you say so.”
I frowned at him. “You’re so—” I struggled for a word. “—distrustful,” I said. “Of whites, I mean.”
He smiled. “It’s just been my experience that white folk can put on a nice, happy-to-meet-you mask, but underneath it they’re the same as the worst racist on the block.”
“Is that what you think about me?”
He studied me from behind his glasses, then shook his head. “No, Ellie. Uh-uh. I believe you’re the real deal. You and the other freedom fighters … nobody stays in a house with a damn outhouse unless they’re serious about this work.”
I felt relieved that he believed in me. I respected him and wanted his approval.
“How’d you get here?” I asked.
“Borrowed Paul’s car. I’m taking you back to the school as soon as they say you can go. Greg’s got a new house for you to stay at, but he wants you to move around every couple of days, like he said. You’re a target. Those Derby County honkies thought you were a true North Carolina girl, but you turned out to be a rebel and now they’re out to get you.”
I wondered if I should just stay at the school, like Jocelyn. I thought of the four little girls in my room at the Dawes house, how they’d slept in their innocence while the cross burned outside the bedroom window. “I’m putting my host families in danger,” I said quietly.
“Greg’ll move you so fast from one house to another that no one’ll know where you are,” he said. He looked toward the window. Chewed his lower lip. “Another subject,” he said. “We decided we’re going to have one of those courthouse protests every week. Every Friday. The one we had was pretty good. At least it brought people together. We’ll have more folks next time, and more the time after that.”
“I love that idea,” I said, though I’d thought the protest had been better than just “pretty good.” I thought of the singing and how people really got into it. How Greg told me I had a good voice. “They’re still not going to open registration before the bill gets signed,” I said. “They won’t open up no matter what we do.”
“You’re right, they won’t. But we’ll make a point and we’ll get folks excited about it. Get them jazzed. So when the time comes to actually register, they’re ready.”
“It’s so frustrating, encouraging them when they can’t register.”
“And we’ll need more than just songs,” he said, looking toward the window again. His mind wasn’t here in my room. He was already at that protest in his head. “We need signs,” he said. “And a little self-righteous anger.”
“But peaceful anger,” I said, and he laughed. I loved it when he laughed. It was so rare.
And then he quickly sobered, as I expected he would. “What good did we do, Ellie? Nice colored people singing freedom songs while white people walk all over them?”
“Dr. King would say we did some good,” I said.
Win looked away from me again, his gaze toward the window. I couldn’t read his face. “I’m not sure his way is the best way anymore,” he said.
Even to me, that sounded blasphemous, but we had no time to debate, as the nurse came back in my room with a bottle of painkillers and a bag with my clothes. Win got to his feet. “I’ll wait for you in the lobby,” he said, and the nurse looked at him, then me, then him again. She shook her head.
“You two be careful out there,” she said.
Chapter 28
KAYLA
2010
I’m standing on the trail through the woods behind my house, staring across the sea of tangled vines, small trees, and grisly-looking undergrowth to the sick-looking lake. Next to me a blond-haired guy wearing a forest-green LET US FENCE YOU IN! T-shirt says, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but there ain’t no amount of money you can pay us to do this job.”
“You’re kidding,” I say. “Don’t you have to do this sort of thing all the time? Clear away undergrowth to build a fence?”
“Not like this.” He shakes his head. “If this was my place, I’d forget about it. You might could put the fence closer to the trail. You know”—he points to the edge of the trail near where we stand—“right about here instead of closer to the lake. You decide to do that, you call us.”