CHAPTER 22
"Guilty, Guilty, Guilty." The voice rang in my head. Turning around, I heard Jem's sobs coming. Dill and I were no better. "It ain't right. It . . .it just ain't right!" stuttered Jem. We reached home, and Aunty Alexandra was fussin' about us. "Atticus, it's gonna be ok. Don't you worry now, brother." "They'll be an appeal just yet. You just wait," replied Atticus, face like a stone. "Atticus! You done all you can for that black man, now drop it. I'll not have MY family name bein' wrecked like that! Let that nigger trash go!" shouted Aunty Alexandra. Unable to control myself, my hands and teeth clenched. I knew Atticus would kill me, but I could not stand my aunt supporting all that bad stuff. "Take that back! Tom ain't like that. He ain't trash. He ain't." I swear that Jem was about the slap me, before he turned away in silence. "JEAN LOUISE Finch! I'll not have you talkin' like that to me! Now you take that back young lady! Why I ought to tan your hide!" screamed a furious Aunt Alexandra. "SISTER!" Wow. I had never heard Atticus shout like that. "Scout, apologize to your aunt," he said, wearily. Knowing it would do me no good to argue, I did as he asked. "Sorry," I replied, a bit scathingly. Storming into the house, I sat, a cried for hours and hours, until I fell asleep. I reckon Atticus put me in bed.
CHAPTER 23
"Don't worry 'bout him Atticus. He's just blowin' off steam. Want some whiskey?"
"No thanks, Dolphus. I just wish that Bob Ewell didn't chew tobacco."
"*Hick*. Gotta go! Got me a reputation to keep up." I had heard the story a million times from Miss Maudie, who heard it from Miss. Crawford, who heard it from Ms. Rachel. Of course, Miss Maudie was hardly one to use hearsay as information, but she saw the information as legitimate. Coming from the post office, Atticus met a furious Bob Ewell, who commenced to spit on Atticus. Rushing to his side, the sober Mr. Raymond cocked a gun, and told Ewell to beat it. Obscenities were uttered, and Mr. Raymond threatened to send Ewell to jail if he didn't leave.
"Atticus, you gonna do anything about it?" questioned Miss Maudie.
"Put yourself in his shoes. I destroyed his credibility at the trial. Don try and mother me," laughed Atticus.
"Don't you be laughin' at me! I am worried about you. You know that. Sure, you can take care of yourself, but how about the children. Or Calpurnia? What has the world come to when a decent man like Tom Robinson goes to jail and a animal such as Bob Ewell lives?"
"I'll be fine," restated Atticus. Huffing, Miss Maudie left. Smelling of day-old sweat sweat, Atticus plopped himself on the couch, and let out a gasp like an elephant.
"Atticus?" I asked?
"Yes, baby?"
"Why are people so unfair?"
"'Cause they want power sweetheart. Although you should know, a Cunningham was actually pulling for our side. Now go play. You've had enough tension today." Appalled, I decided to thank Walter.
"Fine, sir. But can I invite Walter Cunningham fo' dinner?"
"Ye-," started Atticus.
"You. May. Not." Swiveling, I unfortunately noticed Aunt Alexandra, face like she smelled poop, cut the distance toward me.
"And why not?" I questioned.
"Because he is different," stated Aunt Alexandra, matter-of-factly.
"So. I want to play with him," I contradicted
"You do NOT associate yourself with trash like him," raged Aunt Alexandra. Something just snapped inside of me.
"YOU are trash. Not Walter." Oops. I clamped my hand over my mouth faster than a cheetah. Blotches forming over her face, Aunt Alexandra started cursing like a sailor, and sent me off.
"YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING BRAT! I SHOULD SKIN YOU ALIVE. GO. TO. YOUR. ROOM! AND PLAY WITH YOUR DOLLS!" Thinking how such a punishment would be nothing to the average girl, I angrily stormed off. Lecturing me on the importance of not bothering Aunty, I dozed off to a rambling Jem.
Chapter 24
The nerve! I can't believe Jem started acting so fatherly around me! Why, I oughta sock him! Although, I must admit, his crazy idea that Boo Radley wanted to stay inside his house all these years is intriguing. "JEAN LOUISE!" came a sharp voice from down the stairs. "Comin' Aunty!" I hollered, prepared to fill my empty stomach. Running at full speed, I arrived at the huge kitchen table only to find a sashaying Aunty in one of her best dresses. A foreboding feeling in the pit of my stomach, I reached for a warm bagel on our copper colored table, only to have my hand harshly snapped away.
"There'll be no food today. We're havin' company. Miss Crawford, Miss Stephanie, Miss Maudie, and the rest of the lot are comin' over for biscuits and tea. Cal's gonna help me, but bein' a lady, you gotta help out," said an excited Aunt Alexandra. Oh boy. For her, this was just another chance to show off. Suddenly, and idea struck my like lightning.
"Oh, I cannot imagine doing that Aunty," I sweetly said.
"Excuse me?" questioned Aunty Alexandra, ready to pounce. "I'm just listenen to what you said, Aunty! Those people are not like us Finches. We are higher than 'em. Praying, I hoped I read Aunt Alexandra as well as I had hoped.
"Jean Louise! Something is finally getting into that head of yours! Just don't go sayin' that in fronta company, you her'?
"Ok, Aunty. But why are they coming here? How are they any different than Walter?" Too late, Aunt Alexandra had spotted my scheme.
"This is different," she said, trying to win our quarrel. I let it explode.
"How are theys any different! Why, Miss Crawford and Miss Rachel can do nothin' but talk, talk, talk. Mrs. Merriweather has her head up in the sky, and Mrs. Farrow cannot talk right!" Knowing that if Atticus was around, I would be forced to scrupulously clean each of the woman's houses for a year, I felt grateful he was off to work. For effect, I added, "None of their husbands have a job as good as a lawyers!" Inside, I apologized to Miss Maudie for including her in my insults, but reminded myself to give her a compliment later. "So Aunty, why did you invite them?" I smugly stated, immediately predicting her answer.
"So the town will, um, not think I am impolite." I knew I had won. And, Aunty Alexandra could not tell Atticus, because she would be admitting she lost to a child.
Merrily annoying Jem while the ladies were talking in the other room, I was wondering why Atticus was so late, when suddenly, a solemn Atticus appeared at the doorway. "Tom . . . He has . . . been . . . killed. Shot seventeen times, caught trying to escape." Everything came in ragged breaths. Surprisingly, only Miss Maudie and Aunt Alexandra showed any overreacting emotion: Miss Maudie was ranting about illegal business while Aunt Alexandra was attempting to comfort Atticus, although it appeared Atticus needed no comforting. Gasping, the other women put there cheeks to their face, and began to lament on how great a man Tom was. It seemed a little fake.
"I can't believe them," came a stuttering voice. It was Jem.
"What do ya mean?" I asked?
"They don't even care. Just another black down for 'em," muttered Jem. Usually, Jem's knew knowledge disturbed me, but now, I was quite inquisitive.
"So why they seem so moross?" I asked.
"Morose, Scout, sorta like rose. Ha. They only reason 'em ladies are actin' like that are so the community won't call 'em Ewell-likers," he bluntly stated. I guess what Jem said made sense, but I was still not really getting it.
"I knowed that," I quickly said, just to look like I was smart. Laughing his head off, Jem responded.
"Sure Scout. Surrrrr."
CHAPTER 25
I couldn't even begin to understand the pain that Helen and her children must have gone too to learn their father was dead. How could I grow up without Atticus? Mr. Underwood also published an editorial. Tom was dead the minute Mayella Ewell screamed. I cried myself to sleep that night. I really couldn't live.
"Scout!" Hollered Jem.
"What?" I said, breaking out of my reverie. Both of us had been worrying about Mr. Ewell. I was more afraid than I was when those men showed up at Tom Robinson's cell. Obviously, Jem acted bravely, and hid his fears. Rather poorly, I should add.
"Get ready for school! We cannot be late! I'm in high school now." Boy, Jem had been throwing his weight around.
"Hold yer horses, I'm a comin'? Frustrated at Jem's attitude, I walked the road to school in silence.
CHAPTER 26
"We are a DEMOCRACY. Germany is a DICTATORSHIP." Miss Gates was rambling on and on. "Germany is a horrible place. It's not my job to teach you about politics, but Adolf Hitler, their dictator, is killing Jews." That got my attention.
"Why so?" I hesitantly asked.
"Don't know. Jews are decent people. Probably their religion which he hates. That's why he is killing them all. It's crazy though. Their good people."
"I reckon so," spoke Cecil Jacobs. "They're white, right?"
"Yes, Cecil. But they are very good people. Heavens knows why they are being killed"
"So? Just like here." That came from an interesting source: Walter Cunningham, on one of the few days he was in school. Turning to gaze at him, a surprised Miss Gates talked to him in an annoyed voice.
"And what do you mean by that, Walter?"
"I, I, I mean, well, we treat blacks no different, right? I mean, yeah, isn't it the same. What's wrong with blacks? Some may be bad, but there're some bad 'uns in whites too." Dead silence. Quite suddenly, jeers and shouts were being made.
"Nigger-lover!" spoke an infuriated Cecil Jacobs.
"Fool! Go back to ya trashy papa!" exclaimed a stone-faced Chuck Little.
"Come here, Walter. We do NOT believe in prejudice in America," said Miss Bates, restraining her voice. From what I heard from here exchange with Walter, he was bein' suspended, or somethin' like that. All I know is that we were forbidden from bringing up any news discussion in school.
"Jem?" I asked on the way home.
"Mmm?" replied Jem in a cool voice.
"What's wrong with Miss Gates? She's says that people should be treated fairly, but she seemed mighty happy when Tom was perse-perse- persecuted, and was saying that blacks should never marry whites to Miss Crawford. She says we don't have prejudice."
"Miss Gates is alright."
"Yeah, but at the trial, she seemed happy Tom lost." Jem suddenly lost his coolness and turned toward me.
"Scout, never mention the trial again, or I'll hit you." Startled, I said nothing. At home later, Atticus comforted me.
"Scout, people like Miss Gates just have different views, and were brought up differently. Respect them, but don't take what they say for the truth. As for Jem, let him grow a bit, and he'll change, and then life will change." He was right.
CHAPTER 27
Mr. Bob Ewell was on he move again. He got fired from the WPA because of his laziness. He's bent on taking revenge, it looked like. Although he did not show it, I bet Atticus was very worried. Judge Taylor thought he saw a shadow at his place, and he bet it was Bob Ewell. I can't believe what happened with poor Mrs. Helen (she's human too.) with Bob Ewell. They started throwing rocks at her, and calling her names. Why didn't the law take care of that! Link Deas was the only man who was good. He told Bob Ewell to stay away from his place, as he did not want to clean his yard and pole anymore. People like Link Deas were good people, like Atticus. Any other boss would have fired Ms. Helen by now. Luckily, its Halloween, although Jem was reluctant to shout his glee. My escort, to our annual school beauty pageant in where I would play a piece of Pork, Jem, called for me. "SCOUT!" "WHAT! "COME DOWN! ARE YOU READY FOR YOUR PAGEANT! WE HAVE TO LEAVE NOW!" I came. On our way to the school, Cecil Jacobs leapt out of now where to give us a scare. Barely, I had forgiven him for insulting Atticus. "You better stop that Cecil, or I will get Jem to pound you." Laughing, foolish old Cecil paid me no attention.
My dressed was all mashed up, and I felt so tired. Miss Merriweather said "Pork" and I forgot to come out. No one really cared though. Judge Taylor thought the whole bit was funny; his wife was hardly able to control him. Only when Miss Merriweather said I ruined her show did I feel bad. Jem started to walk me back. I didn't want to get out of my costume because I had left my shoes are normal clothes at the school. I heard a sound. Jem stopped me. "Hush Scout!" "Oh don't be silly," I replied. "Probably Cecil Jacobs. COME OUT HERE CHICKEN!" "Maybe yer right. Let's go." STOMP! I turned. There he was. And I do not mean Cecil. Racing after us, his footsteps were like thunder on a dark day. "RUN, Scout, RUN!" I didn't need two warning, although it was hard to see with my costume. A hand grabbed for me! Jem was in trouble I didn't know what to do. Then another voice, and some more grunts. "Help, HELP!" I frantically shouted. Struggling to get the costume off, I raced after the figure, which was carrying what looked to be Jem. He was being kidnapped! BANG. The figure sagged! "HELP!" I shouted. BANG. BANG. BANG. "Crazy monkey. Probably tryin' to catch yerself a midnight snack. To hell with ya. Wonder how life down there is for monkeys like you?" "Sorry, I should've watched him. He seemed to be getting' riled up. Never thought he would kidnap a boy. "Mr. TATE! Mr. RADLEY! HELP!" I leapt toward the two men. "Scout! You brave little girl. How did you survive the beast?" laughed Mr. Tate. "Beast?" I hesitantly asked. Looking down, I almost lost my lunch. It was a man. White. Stark white, like he had not seen sun for days. "Boo?" "He was tryin' to kidnap yer brother," growled Mr. Tate. "NO!" I shouted, "He was trying to help us! Someone else came . . . and Boo threw 'em off . . . and then you two, an' . . .! "She's just a little woozy. Not thinkin' straight. Some food and rest will do that. Don't listen to her, she don't know what she's sayin'. Well, I'll be off. Sorry for the trouble, Mr. Tate." And with that, after talking with someone outside of his family for the longest in years, Mr. Nathan Radley left us to go back to his solitary life.
CHAPTER 28
"Mr. Tate, I, I can't thank you enough." I hung on to Atticus, desperate to get a word in. "Just doin' my job, Atticus. I'd sell cotton before lettin' such a slobberin' beast like Boo Radley touch children!" "That's Arthur Radley," responded Atticus. Surprised, Mr. Tate retaliated.
"Don't tell me you've gone and forgiven that beast!" "I'm just sayin' there ain't enough evidence . . . not by a long shot," muttered a rarely emotional Atticus. "Dr. Reynolds said Scout and Jem are fine, and he already left to go back to the scene of the crime." I burst. "You don't get it! Boo's a mockingbird! He helped us! Mr. Radley is lyin'! He wants his son dead!" Chuckling, Mr. Tate calmed me down. "Ah, Dr. Reynolds is here. My, what happened?" What happened was correct! Dr. Reynolds was pale. Ghost white. He called Mr. Tate over. After a brief conversation, an equally pale Mr. Heck Tate made a startling announcement. "Mr. Bob Ewell us lyin' on the ground under the tree down yonder with a kitchen knife stuck up his ribs. He's dead, Mr. Finch. And no one was there except Jem, Scout, and Arthur Radley."
CHAPTER 29
"I'm sorry. Jem did it in self defense . . ." started Atticus. "MR. FINCH! Will YOU STOP tryin' to take all the blame?" roared Mr. Tate, spit flying from his mouth. "WHERE WAS BOO HEADIN'? WHERE? To YOUR house! You were right! Scout was right! I, I, prejudged him. I prejudiced him. And because of my foolishness we don't have proof that Nathan Radley was lyin'!" He looked up solemnly at Atticus. "You know as well as I know, your son did not kill Mr. Ewell." "Heck, we would all have made the same error. You are not to blame," said Atticus in an attempt to comfort him. "Not all of us. Not you, or Scout, or Jem. Boo . . . Arthur was just tryin' to help." "He was a mockingbird, wasn't he, Atticus," I asked, confidence swelling. Boo put all those presents in the tree. "Boo was playing with us. We were his friends." "I'll have to report his. Good night, Mr. Finch. May God bless you all." With that, news was spread about Bob Ewell's death and that Boo's funeral was to be held in a week.
CHAPTER 30
"Mr. Arthur Radley's lying there, and he will never wake up again." Everyone came to the funeral. Whether or not they believed last week's events, it was their nature for them to come; only Jem was too groggy to join us. Atticus was saying a few words. "While everyone made stories about him, even his parents, we all never made an attempt to know him. Installing our fear in we children, we made everyone fear Arthur, or Boo, as some of you call him. We never thought that he was waiting for us to say hi, instead of the other way around. Although he did nothing to prove the rumors, or attack us, or do anything else, we insulted him. Instead, he let us have our fun in ridiculing and mocking him. He was a mockingbird. We shot him down for singing his song. We shot him with our words. Our insults. We gossiped about this brave man, who gave up his life to save my two children. Hopefully, Arthur will forgive us all. We were prejudiced. Mr. Tate was not the only one; he was probably only a mild case. Miss Crawford, Miss Rachel, all of us made stories out of him. It cost him his life. I hope you all can be proud of yourselves. Because I sure ain't." Descending the stage, Atticus was met with uninterested silence. "What's this we stuff I hear about," said Miss Maudie. "Atticus prejudged no one. Not a soul." Walking with Atticus back home, I heard Miss Crawford and Mr. Avery casually chatting. "'Twas probably Boo who tried to eat Jem," said Miss Crawford. "Mr. Ewell must have decided to spare Atticus's children and saved them. Poor man." "That's right," added Mr. Avery. "Atticus Finch is lost in his mind." Finally reaching home, I stopped Atticus. "Atticus, it is just not fair. Boo was real nice." "Most people are when you see them close enough," replied Atticus, not reprimanding me for using "Boo" instead of "Arthur." "Good Night." Atticus turned out the light and went to wear Jem was sleepin'. He would be there all night, and he would be there when Jem waked up in the morning.
"Guilty, Guilty, Guilty." The voice rang in my head. Turning around, I heard Jem's sobs coming. Dill and I were no better. "It ain't right. It . . .it just ain't right!" stuttered Jem. We reached home, and Aunty Alexandra was fussin' about us. "Atticus, it's gonna be ok. Don't you worry now, brother." "They'll be an appeal just yet. You just wait," replied Atticus, face like a stone. "Atticus! You done all you can for that black man, now drop it. I'll not have MY family name bein' wrecked like that! Let that nigger trash go!" shouted Aunty Alexandra. Unable to control myself, my hands and teeth clenched. I knew Atticus would kill me, but I could not stand my aunt supporting all that bad stuff. "Take that back! Tom ain't like that. He ain't trash. He ain't." I swear that Jem was about the slap me, before he turned away in silence. "JEAN LOUISE Finch! I'll not have you talkin' like that to me! Now you take that back young lady! Why I ought to tan your hide!" screamed a furious Aunt Alexandra. "SISTER!" Wow. I had never heard Atticus shout like that. "Scout, apologize to your aunt," he said, wearily. Knowing it would do me no good to argue, I did as he asked. "Sorry," I replied, a bit scathingly. Storming into the house, I sat, a cried for hours and hours, until I fell asleep. I reckon Atticus put me in bed.
CHAPTER 23
"Don't worry 'bout him Atticus. He's just blowin' off steam. Want some whiskey?"
"No thanks, Dolphus. I just wish that Bob Ewell didn't chew tobacco."
"*Hick*. Gotta go! Got me a reputation to keep up." I had heard the story a million times from Miss Maudie, who heard it from Miss. Crawford, who heard it from Ms. Rachel. Of course, Miss Maudie was hardly one to use hearsay as information, but she saw the information as legitimate. Coming from the post office, Atticus met a furious Bob Ewell, who commenced to spit on Atticus. Rushing to his side, the sober Mr. Raymond cocked a gun, and told Ewell to beat it. Obscenities were uttered, and Mr. Raymond threatened to send Ewell to jail if he didn't leave.
"Atticus, you gonna do anything about it?" questioned Miss Maudie.
"Put yourself in his shoes. I destroyed his credibility at the trial. Don try and mother me," laughed Atticus.
"Don't you be laughin' at me! I am worried about you. You know that. Sure, you can take care of yourself, but how about the children. Or Calpurnia? What has the world come to when a decent man like Tom Robinson goes to jail and a animal such as Bob Ewell lives?"
"I'll be fine," restated Atticus. Huffing, Miss Maudie left. Smelling of day-old sweat sweat, Atticus plopped himself on the couch, and let out a gasp like an elephant.
"Atticus?" I asked?
"Yes, baby?"
"Why are people so unfair?"
"'Cause they want power sweetheart. Although you should know, a Cunningham was actually pulling for our side. Now go play. You've had enough tension today." Appalled, I decided to thank Walter.
"Fine, sir. But can I invite Walter Cunningham fo' dinner?"
"Ye-," started Atticus.
"You. May. Not." Swiveling, I unfortunately noticed Aunt Alexandra, face like she smelled poop, cut the distance toward me.
"And why not?" I questioned.
"Because he is different," stated Aunt Alexandra, matter-of-factly.
"So. I want to play with him," I contradicted
"You do NOT associate yourself with trash like him," raged Aunt Alexandra. Something just snapped inside of me.
"YOU are trash. Not Walter." Oops. I clamped my hand over my mouth faster than a cheetah. Blotches forming over her face, Aunt Alexandra started cursing like a sailor, and sent me off.
"YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING BRAT! I SHOULD SKIN YOU ALIVE. GO. TO. YOUR. ROOM! AND PLAY WITH YOUR DOLLS!" Thinking how such a punishment would be nothing to the average girl, I angrily stormed off. Lecturing me on the importance of not bothering Aunty, I dozed off to a rambling Jem.
Chapter 24
The nerve! I can't believe Jem started acting so fatherly around me! Why, I oughta sock him! Although, I must admit, his crazy idea that Boo Radley wanted to stay inside his house all these years is intriguing. "JEAN LOUISE!" came a sharp voice from down the stairs. "Comin' Aunty!" I hollered, prepared to fill my empty stomach. Running at full speed, I arrived at the huge kitchen table only to find a sashaying Aunty in one of her best dresses. A foreboding feeling in the pit of my stomach, I reached for a warm bagel on our copper colored table, only to have my hand harshly snapped away.
"There'll be no food today. We're havin' company. Miss Crawford, Miss Stephanie, Miss Maudie, and the rest of the lot are comin' over for biscuits and tea. Cal's gonna help me, but bein' a lady, you gotta help out," said an excited Aunt Alexandra. Oh boy. For her, this was just another chance to show off. Suddenly, and idea struck my like lightning.
"Oh, I cannot imagine doing that Aunty," I sweetly said.
"Excuse me?" questioned Aunty Alexandra, ready to pounce. "I'm just listenen to what you said, Aunty! Those people are not like us Finches. We are higher than 'em. Praying, I hoped I read Aunt Alexandra as well as I had hoped.
"Jean Louise! Something is finally getting into that head of yours! Just don't go sayin' that in fronta company, you her'?
"Ok, Aunty. But why are they coming here? How are they any different than Walter?" Too late, Aunt Alexandra had spotted my scheme.
"This is different," she said, trying to win our quarrel. I let it explode.
"How are theys any different! Why, Miss Crawford and Miss Rachel can do nothin' but talk, talk, talk. Mrs. Merriweather has her head up in the sky, and Mrs. Farrow cannot talk right!" Knowing that if Atticus was around, I would be forced to scrupulously clean each of the woman's houses for a year, I felt grateful he was off to work. For effect, I added, "None of their husbands have a job as good as a lawyers!" Inside, I apologized to Miss Maudie for including her in my insults, but reminded myself to give her a compliment later. "So Aunty, why did you invite them?" I smugly stated, immediately predicting her answer.
"So the town will, um, not think I am impolite." I knew I had won. And, Aunty Alexandra could not tell Atticus, because she would be admitting she lost to a child.
Merrily annoying Jem while the ladies were talking in the other room, I was wondering why Atticus was so late, when suddenly, a solemn Atticus appeared at the doorway. "Tom . . . He has . . . been . . . killed. Shot seventeen times, caught trying to escape." Everything came in ragged breaths. Surprisingly, only Miss Maudie and Aunt Alexandra showed any overreacting emotion: Miss Maudie was ranting about illegal business while Aunt Alexandra was attempting to comfort Atticus, although it appeared Atticus needed no comforting. Gasping, the other women put there cheeks to their face, and began to lament on how great a man Tom was. It seemed a little fake.
"I can't believe them," came a stuttering voice. It was Jem.
"What do ya mean?" I asked?
"They don't even care. Just another black down for 'em," muttered Jem. Usually, Jem's knew knowledge disturbed me, but now, I was quite inquisitive.
"So why they seem so moross?" I asked.
"Morose, Scout, sorta like rose. Ha. They only reason 'em ladies are actin' like that are so the community won't call 'em Ewell-likers," he bluntly stated. I guess what Jem said made sense, but I was still not really getting it.
"I knowed that," I quickly said, just to look like I was smart. Laughing his head off, Jem responded.
"Sure Scout. Surrrrr."
CHAPTER 25
I couldn't even begin to understand the pain that Helen and her children must have gone too to learn their father was dead. How could I grow up without Atticus? Mr. Underwood also published an editorial. Tom was dead the minute Mayella Ewell screamed. I cried myself to sleep that night. I really couldn't live.
"Scout!" Hollered Jem.
"What?" I said, breaking out of my reverie. Both of us had been worrying about Mr. Ewell. I was more afraid than I was when those men showed up at Tom Robinson's cell. Obviously, Jem acted bravely, and hid his fears. Rather poorly, I should add.
"Get ready for school! We cannot be late! I'm in high school now." Boy, Jem had been throwing his weight around.
"Hold yer horses, I'm a comin'? Frustrated at Jem's attitude, I walked the road to school in silence.
CHAPTER 26
"We are a DEMOCRACY. Germany is a DICTATORSHIP." Miss Gates was rambling on and on. "Germany is a horrible place. It's not my job to teach you about politics, but Adolf Hitler, their dictator, is killing Jews." That got my attention.
"Why so?" I hesitantly asked.
"Don't know. Jews are decent people. Probably their religion which he hates. That's why he is killing them all. It's crazy though. Their good people."
"I reckon so," spoke Cecil Jacobs. "They're white, right?"
"Yes, Cecil. But they are very good people. Heavens knows why they are being killed"
"So? Just like here." That came from an interesting source: Walter Cunningham, on one of the few days he was in school. Turning to gaze at him, a surprised Miss Gates talked to him in an annoyed voice.
"And what do you mean by that, Walter?"
"I, I, I mean, well, we treat blacks no different, right? I mean, yeah, isn't it the same. What's wrong with blacks? Some may be bad, but there're some bad 'uns in whites too." Dead silence. Quite suddenly, jeers and shouts were being made.
"Nigger-lover!" spoke an infuriated Cecil Jacobs.
"Fool! Go back to ya trashy papa!" exclaimed a stone-faced Chuck Little.
"Come here, Walter. We do NOT believe in prejudice in America," said Miss Bates, restraining her voice. From what I heard from here exchange with Walter, he was bein' suspended, or somethin' like that. All I know is that we were forbidden from bringing up any news discussion in school.
"Jem?" I asked on the way home.
"Mmm?" replied Jem in a cool voice.
"What's wrong with Miss Gates? She's says that people should be treated fairly, but she seemed mighty happy when Tom was perse-perse- persecuted, and was saying that blacks should never marry whites to Miss Crawford. She says we don't have prejudice."
"Miss Gates is alright."
"Yeah, but at the trial, she seemed happy Tom lost." Jem suddenly lost his coolness and turned toward me.
"Scout, never mention the trial again, or I'll hit you." Startled, I said nothing. At home later, Atticus comforted me.
"Scout, people like Miss Gates just have different views, and were brought up differently. Respect them, but don't take what they say for the truth. As for Jem, let him grow a bit, and he'll change, and then life will change." He was right.
CHAPTER 27
Mr. Bob Ewell was on he move again. He got fired from the WPA because of his laziness. He's bent on taking revenge, it looked like. Although he did not show it, I bet Atticus was very worried. Judge Taylor thought he saw a shadow at his place, and he bet it was Bob Ewell. I can't believe what happened with poor Mrs. Helen (she's human too.) with Bob Ewell. They started throwing rocks at her, and calling her names. Why didn't the law take care of that! Link Deas was the only man who was good. He told Bob Ewell to stay away from his place, as he did not want to clean his yard and pole anymore. People like Link Deas were good people, like Atticus. Any other boss would have fired Ms. Helen by now. Luckily, its Halloween, although Jem was reluctant to shout his glee. My escort, to our annual school beauty pageant in where I would play a piece of Pork, Jem, called for me. "SCOUT!" "WHAT! "COME DOWN! ARE YOU READY FOR YOUR PAGEANT! WE HAVE TO LEAVE NOW!" I came. On our way to the school, Cecil Jacobs leapt out of now where to give us a scare. Barely, I had forgiven him for insulting Atticus. "You better stop that Cecil, or I will get Jem to pound you." Laughing, foolish old Cecil paid me no attention.
My dressed was all mashed up, and I felt so tired. Miss Merriweather said "Pork" and I forgot to come out. No one really cared though. Judge Taylor thought the whole bit was funny; his wife was hardly able to control him. Only when Miss Merriweather said I ruined her show did I feel bad. Jem started to walk me back. I didn't want to get out of my costume because I had left my shoes are normal clothes at the school. I heard a sound. Jem stopped me. "Hush Scout!" "Oh don't be silly," I replied. "Probably Cecil Jacobs. COME OUT HERE CHICKEN!" "Maybe yer right. Let's go." STOMP! I turned. There he was. And I do not mean Cecil. Racing after us, his footsteps were like thunder on a dark day. "RUN, Scout, RUN!" I didn't need two warning, although it was hard to see with my costume. A hand grabbed for me! Jem was in trouble I didn't know what to do. Then another voice, and some more grunts. "Help, HELP!" I frantically shouted. Struggling to get the costume off, I raced after the figure, which was carrying what looked to be Jem. He was being kidnapped! BANG. The figure sagged! "HELP!" I shouted. BANG. BANG. BANG. "Crazy monkey. Probably tryin' to catch yerself a midnight snack. To hell with ya. Wonder how life down there is for monkeys like you?" "Sorry, I should've watched him. He seemed to be getting' riled up. Never thought he would kidnap a boy. "Mr. TATE! Mr. RADLEY! HELP!" I leapt toward the two men. "Scout! You brave little girl. How did you survive the beast?" laughed Mr. Tate. "Beast?" I hesitantly asked. Looking down, I almost lost my lunch. It was a man. White. Stark white, like he had not seen sun for days. "Boo?" "He was tryin' to kidnap yer brother," growled Mr. Tate. "NO!" I shouted, "He was trying to help us! Someone else came . . . and Boo threw 'em off . . . and then you two, an' . . .! "She's just a little woozy. Not thinkin' straight. Some food and rest will do that. Don't listen to her, she don't know what she's sayin'. Well, I'll be off. Sorry for the trouble, Mr. Tate." And with that, after talking with someone outside of his family for the longest in years, Mr. Nathan Radley left us to go back to his solitary life.
CHAPTER 28
"Mr. Tate, I, I can't thank you enough." I hung on to Atticus, desperate to get a word in. "Just doin' my job, Atticus. I'd sell cotton before lettin' such a slobberin' beast like Boo Radley touch children!" "That's Arthur Radley," responded Atticus. Surprised, Mr. Tate retaliated.
"Don't tell me you've gone and forgiven that beast!" "I'm just sayin' there ain't enough evidence . . . not by a long shot," muttered a rarely emotional Atticus. "Dr. Reynolds said Scout and Jem are fine, and he already left to go back to the scene of the crime." I burst. "You don't get it! Boo's a mockingbird! He helped us! Mr. Radley is lyin'! He wants his son dead!" Chuckling, Mr. Tate calmed me down. "Ah, Dr. Reynolds is here. My, what happened?" What happened was correct! Dr. Reynolds was pale. Ghost white. He called Mr. Tate over. After a brief conversation, an equally pale Mr. Heck Tate made a startling announcement. "Mr. Bob Ewell us lyin' on the ground under the tree down yonder with a kitchen knife stuck up his ribs. He's dead, Mr. Finch. And no one was there except Jem, Scout, and Arthur Radley."
CHAPTER 29
"I'm sorry. Jem did it in self defense . . ." started Atticus. "MR. FINCH! Will YOU STOP tryin' to take all the blame?" roared Mr. Tate, spit flying from his mouth. "WHERE WAS BOO HEADIN'? WHERE? To YOUR house! You were right! Scout was right! I, I, prejudged him. I prejudiced him. And because of my foolishness we don't have proof that Nathan Radley was lyin'!" He looked up solemnly at Atticus. "You know as well as I know, your son did not kill Mr. Ewell." "Heck, we would all have made the same error. You are not to blame," said Atticus in an attempt to comfort him. "Not all of us. Not you, or Scout, or Jem. Boo . . . Arthur was just tryin' to help." "He was a mockingbird, wasn't he, Atticus," I asked, confidence swelling. Boo put all those presents in the tree. "Boo was playing with us. We were his friends." "I'll have to report his. Good night, Mr. Finch. May God bless you all." With that, news was spread about Bob Ewell's death and that Boo's funeral was to be held in a week.
CHAPTER 30
"Mr. Arthur Radley's lying there, and he will never wake up again." Everyone came to the funeral. Whether or not they believed last week's events, it was their nature for them to come; only Jem was too groggy to join us. Atticus was saying a few words. "While everyone made stories about him, even his parents, we all never made an attempt to know him. Installing our fear in we children, we made everyone fear Arthur, or Boo, as some of you call him. We never thought that he was waiting for us to say hi, instead of the other way around. Although he did nothing to prove the rumors, or attack us, or do anything else, we insulted him. Instead, he let us have our fun in ridiculing and mocking him. He was a mockingbird. We shot him down for singing his song. We shot him with our words. Our insults. We gossiped about this brave man, who gave up his life to save my two children. Hopefully, Arthur will forgive us all. We were prejudiced. Mr. Tate was not the only one; he was probably only a mild case. Miss Crawford, Miss Rachel, all of us made stories out of him. It cost him his life. I hope you all can be proud of yourselves. Because I sure ain't." Descending the stage, Atticus was met with uninterested silence. "What's this we stuff I hear about," said Miss Maudie. "Atticus prejudged no one. Not a soul." Walking with Atticus back home, I heard Miss Crawford and Mr. Avery casually chatting. "'Twas probably Boo who tried to eat Jem," said Miss Crawford. "Mr. Ewell must have decided to spare Atticus's children and saved them. Poor man." "That's right," added Mr. Avery. "Atticus Finch is lost in his mind." Finally reaching home, I stopped Atticus. "Atticus, it is just not fair. Boo was real nice." "Most people are when you see them close enough," replied Atticus, not reprimanding me for using "Boo" instead of "Arthur." "Good Night." Atticus turned out the light and went to wear Jem was sleepin'. He would be there all night, and he would be there when Jem waked up in the morning.