This is a story I wrote last year in my English class for extra credit. Probably not my best work, but still pretty good by my standards. R&R, please, and nothing hurtful, because I actually have feelings, believe it or not. Love you all!

To Cripple a Mockingbird

Back when I was eight, Atticus said that it was a crime to kill a mockingbird, and an unforgivable one at that. Mockingbirds do good, and never mean harm unless provoked. But now, I know the worst crime of all; to cripple a mockingbird, so it can't sing or fly away, and leavin' it to die.

I know so many mockingbirds. Three, in fact. One died almost ten years ago, and one I haven't seen since he saved my life.

The last one didn't even make herself clear until a few months ago, when Cecil Jacobs bent on one knee and asked me to marry him.

Now, Jem might have broken his arm bad ten years ago, but I assure you, it works just fine. This was made obvious when he pounded Cecil to heaven and hell and home again.

At first, when my face started to burn, I had a wild vision of Arthur Radley coming out to protect me from this unwanted leech of a suitor. I hadn't seen good old Boo or heard anything for so long, and I'm guessin' he woulda thought it was a good thing.

No, no, no. Never in a thousand years would I marry Cecil Jacobs. He is, after all, a big, fat hen.

Part of Jem's reaction was timing; had it been a normal day, Jem would've doubled over laughin'. But that was the day after Mayella Ewell and Arianna Taylor left Jem and I second guessing what Atticus said all those years ago.

Atticus, now, is very sick with fever. That's why Jem is here with me, and not at his little house over on the other side of Maycomb county. Atticus's getting better, but Jem is sticking close to home just in case. Poor Dr. Reynolds hasn't had a decent night's sleep since Atticus started with that horrible, hackin' cough of his. Dr. Reynolds can't figure out what, exactly, is wrong; at this point, it couldn't be a common cold. It's lasted far too long for a seasonal sickness is what Dr. Reynolds told me.

I don't give a damn what it is, as long as Atticus pulls through. No way am I marryin' someone just so I have a roof to stay under.

Anyway, Jem's been staying with us since Atticus fell ill. Which is why he called me for advice a few months ago, right before he turned twenty-two, when Arianna Taylor came back to town like a welcome summer breeze.

"Hey, Scout!"

"Yeah?"

"Help me!"

Well, this was new. My older brother, askin' me for help? I wonder what's going on, I thought as I came down the stairs.

When I got to his room, his question might have been life-changin' news for the way I stared afterwards.

"Is my hair okay?"

I'm not sure how long I gaped at Jem before I answered. "Um, sure, I guess."

"No, really, Scout. Is it all right?"

"Yes, Jem." I giggled a little. "What's got you so_ ohhh." I said knowingly; Jem glared.

I had forgotten; today was the day Arianna Taylor came back to town.

Arianna was exactly one year younger than Jem. Mr. Taylor had sent her to a relative's when Tom's trial occured, to spare her the embarrassment. He waited until things died down to bring her back, but things didn't die down until Arianna was fifteen, during Jem's last year of school.

Jem hadn't noticed her much until the day she asked to practice with the football team. According to Jem, once she convinced the coach that she could play, she outran the fastest boy on the team, and made a spectacular tackle that allowed Jem to score a touchdown.

Being a girl, Arianna wasn't allowed on the team. However, when the team needed a good field strategy, she was always there to help.

Jem, on the other hand, wanted a little more than field advice from her.

I couldn't help noticing how tiny Arianna was, despite her strength. She was so fragile-lookin', you'd think a little wind'd snap her in two. She looked like a china doll as a result of her slender frame, along with a few other features: light hair that looked like solidified sunbeams and curled on its own, pale skin, and the biggest, darkest brown eyes I'd ever seen in my life.

Arianna took over poor Jem's brain with no purposeful effort. She accomplished this feat without being even a little aware of it.

Until Jem turned twenty, her feelings for him were unclear to me. Then I witnessed Jem yankin' her back before Miss Stephanie Crawford could run her over with her new car. I'm no expert in this area, but I'm pretty sure this event is what pushed Arianna's heart over the edge. Ever since then, both she and Jem had been trapped in an unsure relationship. I could have screamed for them to get on with it and kiss already at least thirty times.

Before we met Mayella again, I wondered why Arianna had such a scared look in her eyes, like a deer in a lamp's beam. Now, I wonder how she found the courage to walk up to a field of boys and ask to play.

Anyway, once I had deemed Jem's hair worthy of Arianna, we set off for her house.

Mr. Taylor answered the door, and made a point to tell me what a fine young lady I was growin' up to be. I was growin' up, certainly, but I had not outgrown my love of overalls.

We were invited inside. Mrs. Taylor had made cookies that tasted like fresh strawberries.

Arianna came down the stairs in overalls- you can see why she's my friend- and her hair hastily brushed back behind her shoulders.

"Hey, Jem. Hi, Scout. Just let me grab my football and I'll be with you."

She left Jem extremely flustered.

"Chicken," I whispered teasingly; he silently held his forehead, like he had a headache.

Arianna came bounding down the steps, football in hand.

"Catch me if you can," she hollered, and the chase was on. All three of us barreled out of the Taylor house, leaving Mr. and Mrs. Taylor in hysterical laughter.

Jem managed to wrestle the football from Arianna and took off laughing. Arianna chased after him like a bullet. I doubled over, from laughter and a stomach cramp.

By the time I caught up with them, the fun was over. Arianna lay on top of Jem, exhausted but victorious; the football was in her left hand. She looked at it, smiling. Jem was delirious from the heat and the fun; he was grinning fit to die.

I started to make my way home, leaving the two of them in peace.

Then, out of the blue, I stopped. Only a couple yards away was Mayella and Burris Ewell, both looking at me. Jem noticed, too, and brought himself to his feet. Arianna turned pale; why, I didn't know.

Mayella caught Arianna's eye. The two of them seemed to have a silent exchange.

Mayella looked terrible. At the trial, she had, at least, looked like she bathed regularly. Now, there were splotches of dirt all around her body, like she rolled in the mud. She was still strongly built, but she was definitely skinnier; that might have been from hunger, though. Her dark hair was held back by a strip a faded cloth that looked like it came from the dump. Her dress was wrinkled in strange places, and torn at the edges.

Burris didn't look much better. The only difference was his pants, and lack of a dress. I suddenly flashed back to the day he had reached up and crushed a cootie that had crawled to the top of his head.

"Howdy," Burris said, like he walked this way every day. He smiled mainly at me, and I got the feelin' he wasn't looking at my face. I got a funny kick in my gut.

Mayella looked at Arianna alone. "You promised," she said. "You said you would tell me just how you got hurt worse off than me, little slut."

Jem balled his fists.

"That's right, I did," Arianna said, like she normally talked to the Ewells. "Here's a difference; I screamed for help. You screamed to keep a shred of your dignity."

Wait. I was missing something here.

"Your father told the whole world that some 'nigger was ruttin' on his Mayella'. My father did his best to keep it hushed up. You're out of danger; I never will be, not as long as my goddamn cousin isn't locked away like he should be. You had the nerve to lie in court, and you were believed; I spoke the truth, and yet was ignored. Got anything else to say to the little slut, or are you like your father?"

Mayella just stared. I was completely lost. Jem, however, was beginnin' to understand just what Arianna meant.

"What are you talkin' about?" I finally got the nerve to ask.

"Best not to ask, Scout." Arianna said. There was deep pain in her voice.

Wait. What did she say about her cousin?

Oh, Lord.

My view of Arianna changed completely. How in the world was she brave enough to walk to a field of big, strong boys and ask to play defense?

"Arianna, you liar." Mayella said.

"Right. Mayella, if that's a lie, I'm Bonnie Parker. I don't lie," Arianna replied with ice in her voice. She glared daggers at Mayella. "Now get the hell out."

"This property ain't yours," Mayella said.

"It isn't yours, either."

"What're you gonna do? Beat me up?"

"I might as well, if you don't get out."

"Burris, what are you doin'?" Mayella asked in a no-nonsense voice.

Burris had been inching towards me. Jem immediately stood in front of me, looking down at Burris. I felt like I was going to vomit all over my clothes.

Mayella started toward her brother, but there really wasn't any need. Arianna took care of it.

She got Burris so fast, I didn't even know what was going on until Burris was on the ground, nursing a black eye and moaning in pain.

"Right on the soft spot," Arianna smirked. "Works every time." It bothered me that she seemed used to stopping grown men in their tracks.

Burris was still curled on the ground, clutching his groin and nearly cryin' from the pain. I still felt nauseous.

"You done it now!" Mayella cursed Arianna. "You done it now!"

"Mayella Ewell," Arianna suddenly seemed a lot more threatening. "all I 'done' was defend Scout. She's just a girl!"

Normally, I would beat Arianna for that insult, but at the moment, I wasn't in any mood.

"She doesn't deserve to get scarred like us!" Now, Arianna's voice was red from hollerin' like a maniac, along with her face.

Mayella finally took the hint. Supporting her brother, she got away from us as fast as Burris could walk, which wasn't very fast.

It occurred to me that I hadn't seen head or tail of Burris since before the trial. I had heard, though, that he was closer to his father than the other Ewell kids. Was it possible that Bob Ewell had ordered Burris to hurt me in any way he could? It certainly seemed like a good way to get back at poor Atticus, who, at the moment, was lying in his bed, slowly dyin' from fever and coughing.

I noticed Arianna hadn't unclenched her fists, and her face was still quite red. Jem was frozen in front of me, slowly recovering enough to move toward Arianna, whose eyes were now closed and wet.

"Come on," I looked at her. "Let's go home."

Arianna was shaking, from anger and cold, hard fear.

Gently, as though he was afraid she would shatter, Jem put his hand on hers, and they walked together to my house. I followed, being careful to stay as silent as I could. Now, the only thing more fragile than the love they obviously felt for each other was Arianna herself. My heart had never felt more heavy.

Later that night, Arianna told us everything. Her "goddamn cousin", with the rather unfortunate name of Rufus, had been attacking Arianna ever since her father had sent her to her relatives' house during the trial. She was only ten at the time.

At this point, her hands were gripping the armrests so hard, I thought for a second that she was going to rip them off. I hastily made her some tea, so her hands were occupied.

It was only when she returned to her parents that they knew about the frequent attacks. Mr. Taylor had appealed to a judge he knew, with no avail. Mr. Taylor had contacted Atticus to let him know about the situation, and that he shouldn't breathe a word about it to anyone, even his own children. If there was ever going to be a trial, Atticus would be Arianna's lawyer. At the time, Arianna was recovering by learnin' to play the piano, claiming that it distracted her. Somewhere along the line, she picked up football from the Cunninghams, which distracted her more effectively than piano lessons ever would. One day, she watched one of Jem's practices, and asked to join. There, she learned that she would never again be defenseless, because if she could take on half the football team at once, she would be okay dealin' with her cousin.

One day, Rufus unexpectedly visited the Taylor household. Mrs. Taylor had hastily warned Arianna before sending Mr. Taylor to deal with his nephew. Mr. Taylor didn't have to do anything, though. Quick as greased lightnin', Arianna had descended upon her cousin like a demon from hell. Rufus had returned home with two black eyes, a broken nose, and a bloody mouth. After Arianna had dealt with him, it was all he could do to waddle home, holding his groin while trying to keep his nose from getting worse.

Upon hearing that Arianna could take care of herself, the judge that Mr. Taylor had appealed to refused to hold a trial.

"There's no point," he stubbornly insisted. "Rufus won't be bothering Arianna again."

But Rufus could bother other girls, which was really got Arianna depressed.

Two years after Arianna moved back into Maycomb with her parents, Mayella Ewell cornered her on the street, screamin' horrible things about Arianna's father and even worse things about Arianna herself. In order to escape, Arianna explained that she'd been through horrible things, too, but none of them were her fault. Then, she ran before Mayella decided to try to beat her up.

Now, Arianna wasn't very worried about getting hurt. After all, she spent half her time with the football team. But sometimes, she had nightmares that left her shaken for the entire day.

By this time in the story, Arianna's hands were shakin' worse than Atticus did when you took the blankets off him. She wisely set down her teacup before she spilled hot tea all over herself. Then she got off the chair, walked toward the window, and looked outside at the sunny, happy evening that didn't seem to match the mood in the living room.

Jem quietly stood up, and walked toward the same window. Once again, he took her hand, being so gentle and shy that it made my heart hurt just watchin' it happen.

I could tell it was killin' poor Jem to keep from doing something as simple as kissing the girl he loved. It was frustrating, watching them watch each other out of the corners of their eyes. They were so close…

"Well," I burst out, "this is all very nice, but I think you two should get just a little closer." After I said this, I pulled them together. Then I calmly walked upstairs to warn Atticus about Arianna, and the possibility of a daughter-in-law (he took it quite well).

I also asked him a question.

"Atticus, you said killin' a mockingbird is the worst thing to do."

"Yes, and I still believe it." he smiled wanly at me, looking a little paler than he was the day before.

I checked his temperature quickly.

"You're gettin' warmer, Atticus."

"That, Scout, is beside the point. You were going to ask me something?"

It was creepy, how he did that, even with his temperature pushing a hundred and four and his headache keeping him from gettin' out of bed.

"What about hurtin' a mockingbird? Not killing it, just hurtin' it so it can't fly."

As of then, I couldn't do anything more. All any of us could do was wait and see what happened when Arianna and Jem were left alone in the same room for more than half an hour.

After an hour or so of whispered conversation, Arianna hurried home; it was getting dark. Jem offered to walk her back, and she accepted.

The very next day, Cecil Jacobs showed up right as the morning dew was leaving. He had been makin' it clear that I was the only one for him, and I was makin' it clear that he was still the annoying boy that had scared Jem and me all those years ago, and he always would be.

Nevertheless, there he was, on his knee, holding out a diamond ring that sparkled in the sunlight.

I could hardly believe Cecil when I refused. He got angrier than I'd ever seen him, saying I was denyin' my true feelings and that I'd wish I'd said yes ten years from now.

Jem was sitting on the porch, pretending to read the newspaper. He looked like Atticus in miniature: dark, wavy hair, calm, regal air, slightly raised eyebrows, even the same tinge of power in his eyes.

Of course, he looked nothing like Atticus when he pounded Cecil and sent him packing. And he definitely didn't look like Atticus when he swore, accidentally knocking his cereal bowl and splattering his breakfast on his shirt.

"Thanks, Jem," I stood there awkwardly.

"No problem, Scout," he settled down on the bench and continued pretending to read the newspaper. As though nothin' had ever happened.

I knew he had spotted Arianna walking over when he whispered to me, "Does my hair look okay?"

"Yes, Jem. Although, you may want to change your shirt. Spilt breakfast ain't a very attractive look, trust me."

Jem looked down at his shirt, and bolted for his room. I tried not to laugh.

Jem came back on the porch just as Arianna passed Miss Stephanie Crawford's house.

"Look down," I muttered. Jem looked at his pants, and zipped them up, blushin' like a clown at a fair.

Arianna waved hello, as though we hadn't had a deep conversation last night, and nothin' had changed.

"Hiya, Scout," she said, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear just as the wind blew it in place. She was wearing a cream-colored dress that brought out the gold in her hair. It had little red flowers and green leaves all over it. Her shoes had small heels, which made her a little taller than normal. Her light hair was twisted back in a loose bun. Despite the fact that she was all dressed up, I couldn't find a trace of makeup.

"Hey, Arianna. Sorry, I have to check on Atticus." That was my excuse to give her and Jem some space. I walked back into the house and asked Calpurnia to fix Atticus some tea.

When I reached his room, he was sittin' up, looking out the window, and starin'. I joined him, and smiled. There, on the porch, right in front of everyone in Maycomb County who cared, was Jem, kissing Arianna, gently at first, then more passionately, putting his arms around her waist, her hands on his shoulders, the kind of thing you'd see in some romantic comedy, which I guess this was, in some ways.

Atticus was perfectly still. Then, miraculously, he started to laugh. Somehow, I knew he would get better; how many people with fatal diseases keepin' them in bed have the strength and spirit to laugh? I started to laugh, too, and soon both of us were laughin' at each other for laughin', like most fathers do with their daughters sometimes.

At the moment, nothing needed to be taken care of. So Atticus and I sat by the window, and watched the love of Jem's life kiss him back.

End

I don't know. The ending kind of makes me happy. Once again, R&R, please! Love you all! -carrie