I made Scout change. Her ham costume was all bent and outta shape, and she would be too cold in it on the walk home. I didn't want her to get sick because of me; Atticus would have my head. I tried to wait patiently as Scout struggled to get off her ham costume, tugging at the sides until it finally came off. She quickly slipped on her dress so I didn't see anything and turned to me with a bit of a sad expression on her face. Scout was still upset about missing her entrance. I tried to tell her that it was all alright and Miss Caroline was just making a fuss, but she wouldn't listen. Scout slipped on her shoes and we went on our way.
It was dark outside the school house and something didn't feel right. I couldn't shake the feeling that somebody's eyes were on me, but I didn't want to say anything and scare Scout. Swallowing hard, I took a deep breath and kept walking, trying to put on a brave face. Scout stumbled a bit on the road and I grabbed her shoulder to keep her from falling, smiling a little at how clumsy she was.
"Here Scout, let me hold onto your hand. You might lose your balance."
"I can see alright." I rolled my eyes.
"Yeah, but you might lose your balance," I said in a matter of fact tone, hoping I sounded a bit like Atticus, and grabbed Scout's hand quickly. It was stone cold and smooth, kind of like a rock or something like that. I kept my eyes on the path ahead, glancing around me and listening close to see if I could hear or see if anyone was following. I still felt like somebody or something was watching me. I stopped short as I heard a rustling somewhere behind me and the faint sound of heavy breathing.
"Scout?" I said warily, gripping her hand tighter. I knew I should probably tell her what was happening, but when she replied with a small grunt I shivered. I was the older one here; I shouldn't be scared. If something happened, I could protect Scout, but I didn't have to say a thing. So I didn't. I saw Scout pout a bit out of the corner of my eye and I almost smiled, but I heard more of that same rustling. It was louder this time, and closer, and reminded me of the sound of cotton pants. My hand moved up to wrap around Scout's waste and I pulled her closer to me. I didn't care that it looked strange or that Scout looked up at me with an odd expression, I just marched on.
"What's eatin' you, Jem? What's the matter?" Scout asked, her voice so loud it echoed around us. My breathing hitched and I looked behind us to see if anything had come out of the shadows at Scout's shout. The only thing that scuttled out of the underbrush was a small sparrow. I started to breathe easy again, but I heard that same rustling sound and I felt as if my heart were about to stop in my chest.
"I thought I heard something," I said in reply. Scout didn't say anything. She just held my hand tighter. She let out a soft whimper, and I knew she heard what I was hearing too.
"Scout," I began in a low voice, "you remember that old oak by the Radley house?" Scout nodded, looking up at me with confusion. I kept walking. "When you reach it, I want you to run to the house. Run like the devil's chasin' you to take you to hell. Don't look back," I finished, my voice hushed. Scout's face went pale, but she gave me a shaky nod.
"Yes sir," she replied in a soft voice. Under a different circumstance I would never have let her alone for calling me sir, but there wasn't time for that now. The rustling of cotton pants had grown louder behind us and I begged for the oak tree to be in front of us so we could get away. And then the tree was there, and I made Scout stop beside me, listening to see if our company had stopped as well. He hadn't. He was running now, his boots pounding heavily on the path; a glint of silver caught my eye.
"Run, Scout! Run! Run!" I shouted, pushing my little sister ahead of me. I had never felt more desperate or afraid in my life, but I didn't let my emotions get ahead of me. I had to protect Scout. Just as Scout broke into a sprint a pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me back. A scream ripped through my throat and I kicked and punched like mad, doing everything I could to get free and hurt the man holding me. He grabbed my arm and twisted it almost all the way around. A loud crunch rang in my ears and I screamed in pain as a white hot agony shot through my arm. I punched the man in the stomach with my good arm as hard as I could and he dropped me with a grunt of surprise. I fell to the ground and he started running ahead of me, running to Scout, and I tried to grab at him but he was too strong. I couldn't see what was happening, but I heard Scout's scream.
"Jem, Jem, help me, Jem!" Scout wailed, and I could faintly see the outline of two persons next to the Radley tree. I gritted by teeth and tried to get to my feet, ignoring the pain in my arm and trying to forget the way it swung uselessly at my side. Scout screamed again and I saw a flash of silver, and I heard the blood roar in my ears.
"Shut yer trap, ya here?" the man snarled, kicking Scout and grabbing her by the hair. I let out a cry of rage and ran forward, jumping up on the man's back and wrapping my legs around him to hold myself on. I hit him over the head with my good arm as hard as I could over and over again as hard as I could, trying to knock him out or at least distract him, but he continued trying to get me off of his back for all he was worth. He slammed his back against the tree, bending my broken arm behind me and making me gasp in pain. Tears started welling up in my eyes and I crumpled to the ground, trying to get up immediately. The man stood over me and I looked up at his face, seeing cold eyes and whiskers and smelling the terrible stench of stale whiskey. I scrambled away as fast as I could from Bob Ewell, trying to get to Scout's lifeless form. Ewell grabbed me by the hair and dragged me to my feet again, holding a bloodied switchblade tightly.
Everything happened so fast I don't recall what happened first. Bob Ewell was off of me in a second and another man had tackled him to the ground, armed with a kitchen knife and a set of teeth. The savior had feathery hair, and skin as pale as milk. They tossed each other around, and the man tried to keep Mr. Ewell from pouncing on me and Scout again, grabbing his wrist that held the switchblade above his head and brandishing his own weapon. The kitchen knife found its way into Mr. Ewell's chest and I saw him sag to the ground, crumpling like a paper savior straightened, leaving the knife in Bob Ewell and quickly turning to me. I got a better look at his face, which was thin and sad looking. Dark curcles surrounded his eyes, which were a bit white-looking and clouded over. If I had had any time and I wasn't so scared, I would have known it was Mr. Boo Radley, but all I could think about was Scout. I crawled over to her as best as I could, ignoring the pain in my arm and the rest of my body.
"Scout, you alright?" I whispered, my voice hoarse, reaching out to touch my little sister's lifeless face. Scout's face was pale and her eyes were half closed. I grabbed at her shirt and felt something warm and sticky, and I couldn't see whether or not her chest was moving. Atticus said if a person's chest was moving, even if they looked strange, they were alive. I shook Scout hard, feeling more of the sticky stuff on her clothes.
"Scout. Scout, get up," I said, attempting to keep my voice even. "Scout, come on." Shaking so badly I couldn't grip Scout's shirt in my hands I dragged myself closer to her, cupping her face in my hands and bringing it closer to my face. Her eyes, usually filled with life and endless curiosity, were dark and cold. My heart seemed to stop in my chest as Scout remained limp in my arms and I could see it was blood I'd been feeling on her shirt. I started to see things all blurry again and I trembled as I held Scout in my arms, still shaking her and calling her name.
"This ain't it, Scout. You gotta get up. We need to go home, Atticus is waitin' for us!" I pleaded, my eyes wide as Scout's head lolled to the side. I knew Scout was dead. She wasn't breathing, there was blood all over, and she couldn't keep up an act like this for so long. She was only nine, she didn't know how to be that good of an actor. She was only nine. I buried my face in her shoulder and let the tears fall. I cursed Bob Ewell for everything, I cursed God for not saving my sister, I cursed Boo for not coming out in time, and I cursed myself for making Scout take off that dumb costume and not accepting a ride from one of our neighbors. Boo stood over me, his eyes filled with a forlorn glow. He hesitated before placing a hand on my shaking shoulder and rubbing it gently, trying to comfort me. I wanted to yell at him to go away! But I couldn't get the words out.
Atticus found the three of us under the oak tree not too long after. He called Mr. Tate and he had to pry Scout's body out of my arms because I wouldn't let go. I was in too much shock to cry any more than I already had and I just laid in Atticus' arms with a blank expression on my face. We sat on the porch as Heck Tate gently settled Scout, who was wrapped up in some sort of black sheet, into the back seat of his car. Mr. Ewell had already been tossed into the back. Boo Radley stood a little ways off, watching all of us. I couldn't see his face, but I could tell he was crying because I heard him sniffling. Atticus held me tightly in his arms as Mr. Tate drove off, rocking slightly and massaging the back of my head. I think I fell asleep there, because I found myself lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. I grabbed my pillow and went over into Scout's room. Her bed was sloppily made and her pillow was on the floor, just like always. I crawled into it and pulled the covers up over me, lying on my pillow and clutching hers tightly to my chest. I cried myself back to sleep.
The funeral was two days later. Dill was there, and so was Miss Maudie, Miss Stephanie, and pretty much the rest of the town. Atticus insisted on having an open casket funeral, and neither Dill nor I dared to approach. Dill wouldn't stay away from me, but he didn't say a word. I understood why; I was his friend, but I had gotten his girl killed. He wanted to be near me, but he didn't want to speak to me. I accepted that. My stomach was churning and queasy as person after person dressed in back came up to me, clasping their hands with mine and looking at me with false sadness in their eyes, telling me how sorry they were that this had happened and if I needed anything to just ask. None of them had what I needed. I needed Scout back. I needed to stop crying myself to sleep every night and waking up screaming because I saw her dying all over again. I needed to see her and Dill together one last time, laughing and joking and laughing like a couple even though they were only kids. I needed my chest to stop feeling all tight like I couldn't breathe whenever I got near that open casket. The only person who could give me those things was God, and I wasn't even sure if he was real anymore. Dill left without saying goodbye and Atticus took me home before they put Scout in the ground. I guess he didn't want to see Scout gone anymore than I did. The house was too quite when we got home. I hated knowing that it was going to stay that way.