leaves blow around, and with the wind going the way it's going, it doesn't take long for the fire to spread from the roof to the entire schoolhouse, and all at once the whole building is ablaze and lit up, hot and powerful and awful. Even the hooded men stop what they are doing to stand in awe of the flames.
Some of them hitch up their horses, ready to leave.
"My baby. My baby. Where's my baby? Jess? Jess Still, where are you, boy?" Jess's momma, Early Rise, runs back
and forth across the schoolyard and I can't help it no longer. I run out of the bushes and Little Bit comes running out after me, saying, "No, Addy. Don't."
I run into the flames and smoke and right there, in the back of the schoolhouse, there lies Jess Still, looking like he's fast asleep.
He looks smaller than small and his right hand is closed around the asafetida he wears round his neck. He doesn't feel heavy when I pick him up and put him over my shoulder. The smoke and fire make me mad and my mad makes me strong.
I get out of there fast, and when I fall down to the ground with Jess Still I am coughing and spitting. Early Rise comes and hugs her boy but he does not wake. Someone pours water on him but he does not wake. Early Rise is wailing. She cannot get her little boy Jess Still to wake up.
I am too late. I was too late. He is gone. Jess is gone. Not from the fire, but from breathing in all that smoke. I kneel down there with all of them wailing. I hold on to the asafetida bag, the one he gave me.
Little Bit pulls me away. Little Bit, streaked now with dirt and tears. We run run run back home to Mr. Frank's. When we get there they are both either too angry or too shocked to start
yelling at us for coming home so late. Little Bit tells her brother to go go go to the colored church and help them. We can't explain. There are no words. They smell the smoke on us. We say yes, fire, fire.
Mr. Frank goes and Miss Irene stays and lights a fire for heat.
Little Bit and me, we get out and unfold our map. It is on a big sheet of paper, the kind Miss Irene uses to wrap things in. Little Bit and me, we both know what to do. We set out to draw. We do it together, side by side, not her at one end and me at the other, because we want to make sure we get all the little things right. We mark the trails we used more carefully. We draw trees we remember more clearly. We label them too, because when you chart it all out at the end of the day, it's important to see everything from far off and up close too. Most people miss the up-close, little things.
We sit together side by side and draw what we've just seen.
It seems so important. We are both in a hurry because we both know. We both have to remember this so that we can forget.
We draw and draw. We draw the map and with it we draw the story. And not once do we stop. We draw the schoolhouse and the fire. We draw all the hooded men. We draw the cross.
We draw the man with the special hood lighting the match. Little Bit marks it with the date.
We fold up the map. We put it in a jar that had the good peaches. Then we go outside, dig a hole under Mr. Frank's praying log, put it there in the ground, cover it back up with dirt, then roll the log over it.
Buried. Not our treasure, our nightmare.
Chapter 6
I keep thinking about the colored graveyard down the road. There were no markings for the graves, or if there ever had been, they are long gone. I never made a headstone before. I sit outside on a log with Little Bit and her brother Jack. We are here with all the rest who come to mourn Jess Still. I think about what a headstone should say about this little boy.
Jess Still Rise, named on account of his standing still all the time, even though we three did all that running in the woods. When I met him that first time, when he and his pappy drove
the wagon to Mr. Frank's house, I wished I'd been him. He had a pappy to ride with.
He was the only person who ever called me Adeline.
"What else did you know
Some of them hitch up their horses, ready to leave.
"My baby. My baby. Where's my baby? Jess? Jess Still, where are you, boy?" Jess's momma, Early Rise, runs back
and forth across the schoolyard and I can't help it no longer. I run out of the bushes and Little Bit comes running out after me, saying, "No, Addy. Don't."
I run into the flames and smoke and right there, in the back of the schoolhouse, there lies Jess Still, looking like he's fast asleep.
He looks smaller than small and his right hand is closed around the asafetida he wears round his neck. He doesn't feel heavy when I pick him up and put him over my shoulder. The smoke and fire make me mad and my mad makes me strong.
I get out of there fast, and when I fall down to the ground with Jess Still I am coughing and spitting. Early Rise comes and hugs her boy but he does not wake. Someone pours water on him but he does not wake. Early Rise is wailing. She cannot get her little boy Jess Still to wake up.
I am too late. I was too late. He is gone. Jess is gone. Not from the fire, but from breathing in all that smoke. I kneel down there with all of them wailing. I hold on to the asafetida bag, the one he gave me.
Little Bit pulls me away. Little Bit, streaked now with dirt and tears. We run run run back home to Mr. Frank's. When we get there they are both either too angry or too shocked to start
yelling at us for coming home so late. Little Bit tells her brother to go go go to the colored church and help them. We can't explain. There are no words. They smell the smoke on us. We say yes, fire, fire.
Mr. Frank goes and Miss Irene stays and lights a fire for heat.
Little Bit and me, we get out and unfold our map. It is on a big sheet of paper, the kind Miss Irene uses to wrap things in. Little Bit and me, we both know what to do. We set out to draw. We do it together, side by side, not her at one end and me at the other, because we want to make sure we get all the little things right. We mark the trails we used more carefully. We draw trees we remember more clearly. We label them too, because when you chart it all out at the end of the day, it's important to see everything from far off and up close too. Most people miss the up-close, little things.
We sit together side by side and draw what we've just seen.
It seems so important. We are both in a hurry because we both know. We both have to remember this so that we can forget.
We draw and draw. We draw the map and with it we draw the story. And not once do we stop. We draw the schoolhouse and the fire. We draw all the hooded men. We draw the cross.
We draw the man with the special hood lighting the match. Little Bit marks it with the date.
We fold up the map. We put it in a jar that had the good peaches. Then we go outside, dig a hole under Mr. Frank's praying log, put it there in the ground, cover it back up with dirt, then roll the log over it.
Buried. Not our treasure, our nightmare.
Chapter 6
I keep thinking about the colored graveyard down the road. There were no markings for the graves, or if there ever had been, they are long gone. I never made a headstone before. I sit outside on a log with Little Bit and her brother Jack. We are here with all the rest who come to mourn Jess Still. I think about what a headstone should say about this little boy.
Jess Still Rise, named on account of his standing still all the time, even though we three did all that running in the woods. When I met him that first time, when he and his pappy drove
the wagon to Mr. Frank's house, I wished I'd been him. He had a pappy to ride with.
He was the only person who ever called me Adeline.
"What else did you know
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