Quiet Morning


~Chapter 32 of To Kill A Mockingbird~


I recently read To Kill a Mockingbird. It was a great book, but somehow it didn't seem finished. This takes place the morning after the end of the book. Spoilers inside! Scout's POV, same as the book. Read and review please! Thank you!


The next morning, Jem woke up. As he woke, I ran to give him a big hug, but Atticus said no.


"Maybe later, Scout," he said, seeing my depressed face. I watched as Jem rubbed sleep out of his eyes.


"Atticus, how long have I been asleep?" he asked.


"The whole night."


Jem sat up. "What happened to B-Mr. Arthur?"


I piped up. "I took 'im home, Jem. He asked me, and I took 'im. But, Jem, if you were sleepin' the whole time, howdja know-"


Jem cut me off. "I saw 'im! Saw 'im with my own two eyes, Scout! When Bob Ewell was tryin' to get me, I saw some thin guy come n' yank him off and fight with him. I knew it was Mr. Arthur." Jem paused. "Atticus, how bad am I hurt? Real bad? I mean, is it real bad?"


Atticus shook his head, and cracked a smile at Jem's quick recovery. "No, you should be better very soon. Your left arm may hang a bit thin, though. You got hurt pretty bad in the elbow. Try not to move it too much." He stood up from his chair slowly. "Breakfast?"


Jem gestured yeah. "I'll come'n get it, Atticus."


Atticus shook his head. "Stay there, I want you to rest today. And don't even think about sneaking out." He turned to go into the kitchen, but turned back around before he left. "Omelette?"


Jem smiled and nodded gently. 'Omelette, Atticus."


Atticus left, leaving me and Jem alone in the room. I snuck up to his bed and sat on it. Looking at Jem, I remarked, "We got jumped mighty bad last night. Didja see what Bob Ewell almost did to me? Atticus and Mr. Tate were talkin' about it, said he was mighty serious about gettin' us! He was tryin' to pull a knife on us! They said Bob Ewell probably woulda gotten me if I didn't have that ham costume!"


"Pork saved you?"


"Pork saved me."


Jem sighed happily. "That's good...Scout, what was Boo like? Was he what we thought he was? Y'know, all those things we spun him out to be? Come on n' tell."


"Naw, Jem, that ain't it, that ain't it at all." I sighed and laid back on the bed with my shoulders. "Naw, he was really nice. Not at all what we thought of him. He saved us, y'know."


"Guess he did, din't he. Think he'll ever come out again?"


"Dunno, Jem." I replied. I was looking at the ceiling. If the ceiling wasn't there, I could look up into the blue sky, and maybe even into the sun. I looked out of the window instead, into the dusty, tired morning streets of Maycomb. The town was waking up, maybe sitting down to eat breakfast, and I couldn't help but wonder what Boo did all day, cooped up inside that house like a cage. Even more so, I wondered how Mr. Nathan would react to Boo saving us.


Jem noticed my blank, thoughtful stare, and asked the very question I was busy pondering. "Wonder what Boo's doin' right now."


As I opened my mouth to answer, Atticus strolled back into the room, moseyed over to the chair he had been occupying, and sat down. He picked up his copy of The Gray Ghost and continued to read.


"Atticus?" inquired Jem. Atticus stared up from his book. "Why aren't you cookin' breakfast?"


"I'm having Cal make it."


"Oh!" said Jem. "That reminds me, how's Cal holding up? She takin' it alright?"


Atticus smiled. "Yeah, she's okay. She was scared as all get out though, until we told her it was all right. She really cares about you two. We're almost as close as family to her."


"Aw shucks. How's Auntie?"


"She's doing fine. She was relieved to hear you were all right as well."


I listened carefully as the sound of mockingbirds filled the room. Atticus stared up from his book to listen to the song, and I cocked my head to the window. The hummingbirds fluttered about and one particularly daring hummer landed on one of Miss Maudie's azaleas. Another fluttered to our window and hovered there. I was surprised to find myself in such close proximity to one, but there I was.


The days passed, and Atticus, Jem, and I were our own small clique, talking about such and such. We watched the birds and heard them sing, watched the townsfolk pass by on the street, and sometimes even looked out to see Miss Maudie tending to her garden. All was well, and within a week of the incident, Jem was up and about, moving his elbow and stretching it. His self-therapy seemed to be working, as Jem's elbow seemed to be recovering at a very fast pace. It did not seem like his injury would impede his imminent football career. He said he was going to try out next year, at thirteen. He wanted to lift weights straight off the bed, but Atticus did not approve, saying he should wait until his elbow healed fully. Jem and I agreed.


So the days continued, Atticus and Jem and I all our one little group, and Calpurnia bringing the food. The days seemed to fly by. I talked with Jem and Atticus, looked on at Jem's football magazines, and found interest in some of Atticus' old books he kept on his bookshelf. Atticus, Jem, and I grew closer together and formed a sort of special bond through the days. After about a month of what I secretly deemed "The Finch Club", Jem said he felt strong enough to try lifting weights. Atticus agreed, albeit somewhat reluctantly. Atticus said Mr. Link Deas lifted weights back in the day, and that he might be kind enough to lend Jem some if he went to visit. Jem visited, and returned to his room with two three pound weights, as well as Link Deas. Link was carrying two five pound weights, which he effortlessly hoisted in both of his arms.


"Ah, hello Link." greeted Atticus, seeing Jem walk him in. "Fine day we are having."


"I agree, Mr. Finch. Came to bring your boy yonder some weights. Start 'im off with the threes, then move up to the fives here. I used to build myself all the time back when I was a young man," He chuckled, and Atticus chuckled in tune. "You can keep these weights, Mr. Finch, I don't use 'em anymore."


"Thank you, Link." Atticus said. "But I couldn't-" but Link insisted, and Atticus took the five pounds weights, placing them on the floor. Jem put his weights down, and we jumped up on the bed to chat while Atticus and Mr. Link talked.


"Hey Scout, how about that, huh? I got them weights yonder, and didja hear Mr. Link say I could keep 'em?" said Jem with enthusiasm. I had noticed that he no longer spoke or looked at me in a condescending manner. Instead, he treated me with equality and kindness. He seemed to be more welcoming of my presence as well, even requesting it on occasion. This was a big change, if you think about how not long before he was simply disgusted to be around me at all in public. Seeing that I was going on nine and looking like it more every day, I wasn't surprised about Jem's change in attitude. It later hit me, however, that Tom Robinson's trial and Bob Ewell's attack had a big impact on Jem, which spurred his positive change in demeanor.


"Yeah, I heard, Jem! You goin' out for football soon?"


"Scout, I toldja already, after I turn thirteen!"


"Can I come to your games?"


Jem thought for a minute, then replied "Sure, Scout!"


I didn't really understand football, but I wanted to go and see my brother play. Link Deas left, and I decided to consult Atticus on the ways of football. Unfortunately, he was about as uneducated as me on the subject, and told me he had an old book he never read before and that I should read it. He pointed it out to me and I grabbed it off the shelf. I sat on the edge of Jem's bed and opened it, and was greeted by dust. I sneezed.


Jem laughed. "Gesundheit!" he said.


I itched my nose, and flipped the pages of the book until I reached Chapter 1. I began to read, just as Atticus was reading The Gray Ghost and Jem his football magazines. The rest of the day was spent with Atticus and Jem, reading and reading and reading. Before night's end, I read all the way up to Chapter 5. By then I had learned the basics of football, such as the positions, the numbers, the plays, the rules, and the equipment. I was about to delve further into the more complex rules and then I was to read examples of football games, or so I was informed by the table of contents. I hopped into bed that night and fell into a deep sleep, exhausted from a long day's reading.


The next morning, I woke up and darted into Jem's room, waking up Jem and Atticus in the process. I grabbed the football book and promptly began reading it. By the end of the day, I had finished Chapter 8, and therefore, the entire book. I closed it and sighed a sigh of happiness and relief. I returned the book to it's spot on the shelf and thanked Atticus, who informed me that I should be running along to bed. I complied, and I fell off to sleep quickly, once again tired from reading practically all day long.