Legend of Buddy Bush (9781439131824) by Shelia P. Moses

her path. Her hair is back in a bun like she wants everybody to get a good look at her prejudice face. If you don’t notice her face, you can’t miss her ugly orange dress.
    Uncle Buddy stands up to let her by.
    What is wrong with her? She starts to walk faster, and then, out of nowhere, she let out this loud scream.
    â€œOh, my goodness!” she yells.
    Then she holds her hand to her pale chest like she is having a heart attack.
    Uncle Buddy looks around confused as he realizes she is yelling at him.
    â€œCome on, gal,” he yells to me.
    I jump out of the car and we go to the back door of the movie house, buy our tickets, and go inside.
    â€œMaybe we should go home, Uncle Buddy. That white lady is mad.”
    â€œWe can’t do that, gal. If we do, white folks will think I have done something wrong. Let’s go up in this balcony, see the picture, and then we will go home.”
    â€œBut what about your date?”
    â€œI’ll explain to her later.”
    It taking forever to get to the balcony, where the screen seems so far away.
    â€œWhy do we have to sit up here?” I ask.
    â€œThe same reason we had to buy our tickets in the back and eat last month’s ice cream. We have to sit up here for the same reason that lady yelled like I was trying to hurt her. You can’t even look at white folks round here.”
    That is the last thing Uncle Buddy says before the movie start. He is so mad that I can feel him breathing hard next to me. Uncle Buddy doesn’tmove all night, not even to get me the popcorn he promised. My first picture show just ain’t going well at all. I couldn’t tell a soul what this movie is about. I just want to go home where I feel safe. Back to Rehobeth Road. Back to Jones Property. I am glad to see the words “The End” come across the screen.
    â€œLet’s go, gal,” Uncle Buddy says in a voice I ain’t heard before. A scary voice. A real scary voice.
    Holding my hand tight, Uncle Buddy and me walk quietly down the steps, through the lobby, and out the back door to Main Street.
    â€œThat’s him, officer.”
    The words come out of nowhere.
    It is that pale white woman’s voice.
    The law, Sheriff Franklin, looking old and feeble, is standing at Mr. Charlie’s car. So are two other lawmen.
    Uncle Buddy looks scared for the first time since I’ve known him.
    The sheriff is taller than Grandpa and as red as the sunset.
    â€œBoy, we need to talk to you.”
    â€œMy name is Goodwin Bush.”
    This must be serious because this is the first time I have ever heard Uncle Buddy use his real name.
    â€œOkay, boy, but we still need to talk to you. This lady said she was walking home from the beauty parlor and you made a pass at her. Is that true?”
    â€œNo, it ain’t. I was just sitting right over there waiting for my friend to get off work. I don’t know this lady and I sure ain’t tried to harm her.”
    â€œNow, you wouldn’t be calling a lady a liar, would you?”
    â€œI ain’t calling her a liar, but I never touched her.”
    â€œTell it to the judge, nigger!”
    Sheriff Franklin is mad. Maybe he is getting revenge for what happened with Grandpa all those years ago. Maybe he knows Uncle Buddy let the air out of his tires. Whatever—we are in trouble.
    Everything starts moving faster than the ants in our front yard. Faster than the red ants. The black ants. The fire ants. How am I going to remember what to tell Grandpa? The lawmen pull my handout from Uncle Buddy’s hand that I am holding on to so tightly. The silver handcuffs are around both his wrists now and I am alone.
    â€œWhat about my niece?”
    â€œWe will take her home, but she is the least of your concerns, boy.”
    Sheriff Franklin leads Uncle Buddy to the backseat of his car and the second lawman leads me to the other car. The third lawman grabs Uncle Buddy’s keys and get behind the