lights a match, and the flame lights up the mask of his hood and all the worry lines look like so many lit-up rivers.
Something is happening here. Something else, above all that happened before. I can smell it the way I can smell a rain coming. The air has changed.
"We should tell Jess to stay inside," I say.
"Addy, no," Little Bit says, pulling me back into the thicket. "His ma and pa are with him."
Some of the men on horses hear us and turn our way to look.
I see the man with the match stand and look around toward us. He is a tall, powerful-built man and I want to run to him, push him down, and say why? Why would you burn a cross? Why would you turn something good into something bad?
It feels as though the ground is dropping out from under my feet, and the feeling is not funny the way it should be. Did everything change as fast as all that, in the time it took for this man to light that match?
How can good be made evil in so short a time?
The tall man drops the lit match on the burlap bags. The wind picks up and the fire takes off fast up and down the pole that quickly turns black and brittle. The men on horseback and on foot now stand back to look at the fire as the wind blows harder. Little Bit and me both stand because no one is looking our way. Everyone is facing the fire. Someone yells, "Timber!" in a joking way, and sure enough, the whole cross comes tumbling down and down and down onto the roof of the schoolhouse. Part of the roof caves in. Part of the roof catches on fire.
People come screaming out, but we can't see Jess.
"Jess!" I scream.
Little Bit yells, "Is that him?"
It is so hard to see.
We are looking as more and more people come running out of the schoolhouse.
It seems like the whole world is on fire just then. I look up and down the road. Where is help? Isn't anyone going to come and help?
One hooded man goes into the burning schoolhouse as though to help and drags out a colored man who is coughing something terrible. This man with the hood does what so
many masters in these parts done to their slaves before the war. He tears off this man's half-burned shirt, and while someone holds him down, he whips this man. He uses a strap with holes in it, so that they raise big blisters. He is mean the way I seen O'Donnells be mean. Mean the way I seen Uncle "Tiptoe" be mean, when he whipped a man who had strayed into No-Bob till the blood came, then had somebody else anoint the man's flesh with red pepper and turpentine.
What's to be done with all that you know and see? What do you do with so much meanness in this sorrowful world?
Some of the men under their masks are laughing.
Laughing.
They are
happy.
They are having
fun.
They use their good singing voices to sing a nasty song about how they would be back to see all the black people, how they were coming back to get them all. Everyone around them is screaming and running and shouting and crying, and these hooded men are whooping and having themselves a big time.
More and more people from the schoolhouse come pouring out, coughing, yelling, screaming, crying. There are babies here. Children. Where is Jess?
What is happening to us?
Little Bit is crying, not looking at what I'm looking at. She
is looking at me. She is saying,
Addy O'Donnell, if you go out there now, you will get us both killed.
What does this look like on a map? I think of what the fire might look like from way high above. It would be small but hard to miss. I used to think about Jesus ascending into heaven and I wondered exactly how long that took. And how long does it take to descend? To come back down and help out, maybe even fix a few things that have gone and broke or just plain come undone.
We are falling backwards, back before our mommas, teachers, and preachers taught us how to be good, back into a dark, muddy time before we knew better. What is happening?
The wind picks up again and blows the fire to make more fire. It's dry. We haven't had rain in over a month. The
Something is happening here. Something else, above all that happened before. I can smell it the way I can smell a rain coming. The air has changed.
"We should tell Jess to stay inside," I say.
"Addy, no," Little Bit says, pulling me back into the thicket. "His ma and pa are with him."
Some of the men on horses hear us and turn our way to look.
I see the man with the match stand and look around toward us. He is a tall, powerful-built man and I want to run to him, push him down, and say why? Why would you burn a cross? Why would you turn something good into something bad?
It feels as though the ground is dropping out from under my feet, and the feeling is not funny the way it should be. Did everything change as fast as all that, in the time it took for this man to light that match?
How can good be made evil in so short a time?
The tall man drops the lit match on the burlap bags. The wind picks up and the fire takes off fast up and down the pole that quickly turns black and brittle. The men on horseback and on foot now stand back to look at the fire as the wind blows harder. Little Bit and me both stand because no one is looking our way. Everyone is facing the fire. Someone yells, "Timber!" in a joking way, and sure enough, the whole cross comes tumbling down and down and down onto the roof of the schoolhouse. Part of the roof caves in. Part of the roof catches on fire.
People come screaming out, but we can't see Jess.
"Jess!" I scream.
Little Bit yells, "Is that him?"
It is so hard to see.
We are looking as more and more people come running out of the schoolhouse.
It seems like the whole world is on fire just then. I look up and down the road. Where is help? Isn't anyone going to come and help?
One hooded man goes into the burning schoolhouse as though to help and drags out a colored man who is coughing something terrible. This man with the hood does what so
many masters in these parts done to their slaves before the war. He tears off this man's half-burned shirt, and while someone holds him down, he whips this man. He uses a strap with holes in it, so that they raise big blisters. He is mean the way I seen O'Donnells be mean. Mean the way I seen Uncle "Tiptoe" be mean, when he whipped a man who had strayed into No-Bob till the blood came, then had somebody else anoint the man's flesh with red pepper and turpentine.
What's to be done with all that you know and see? What do you do with so much meanness in this sorrowful world?
Some of the men under their masks are laughing.
Laughing.
They are
happy.
They are having
fun.
They use their good singing voices to sing a nasty song about how they would be back to see all the black people, how they were coming back to get them all. Everyone around them is screaming and running and shouting and crying, and these hooded men are whooping and having themselves a big time.
More and more people from the schoolhouse come pouring out, coughing, yelling, screaming, crying. There are babies here. Children. Where is Jess?
What is happening to us?
Little Bit is crying, not looking at what I'm looking at. She
is looking at me. She is saying,
Addy O'Donnell, if you go out there now, you will get us both killed.
What does this look like on a map? I think of what the fire might look like from way high above. It would be small but hard to miss. I used to think about Jesus ascending into heaven and I wondered exactly how long that took. And how long does it take to descend? To come back down and help out, maybe even fix a few things that have gone and broke or just plain come undone.
We are falling backwards, back before our mommas, teachers, and preachers taught us how to be good, back into a dark, muddy time before we knew better. What is happening?
The wind picks up again and blows the fire to make more fire. It's dry. We haven't had rain in over a month. The
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