Chapter Four: Strings

"Defining myself, as opposed to being defined by others, is one of the most difficult challenges I face."

~Carol Moseley-Braun

(EPOV)

I hyperventilated all the way home, while Ma unlocked the front door, and even as I ran to the backyard. My lungs couldn't decide between taking short breaths and giving up altogether. My knees hit the soft ground and I collapsed.

Scarlett.

She was pretty, with brown eyes and wearing a dress it would have taken Ma years to earn enough to buy. Her hair was shiny, the kind I imagined rich folks would have, but she was pretentious too. I could tell by the way she spoke, by how proper she was in her speech. I knew she would turn me in, I just knew it … and then she didn't.

I think she figured out I wasn't white, but for some reason she didn't say anything. She looked at me funny, the way our landlord Harry did sometimes when he saw Ma and Pa hugging, but she didn't say a word—except that she wanted to see me tomorrow.

What did that mean? Was it a trap? Was she going to tell her folks? Or the police?

I shouldn't have gone.

I don't know how she knew I was in the truck, but she did. It could have been from me wriggling around, but it was hot as hell and I could barely breathe in the stale air. It didn't matter now. She found me and if I didn't do as she said, she would out me—if she hadn't already.

"Lincoln! I'm home!"

Ma called my name from inside the house and I figured I'd better go in before she noticed me acting suspicious. I dusted myself off and walked through the back door, plastering a fake smile on my face.

"How'd it go?" I asked as she placed her purse on the table.

"I got the job, Lincoln! Oh, you should have seen their home! It was beaut—" Ma paused, noticing my flushed cheeks. "Have you been outside this whole time? You'll have a heat stroke honey. Drink some water!"

I nodded, grabbing a streaked glass and turning on the faucet while Ma continued rambling. "Mrs. Swan—Renee's her first name—is delightful. She showed me their whole house and she pays real good too. They have a butler there, but he acted kind of skittish. I don't know what his problem was. Hopefully he was just shy. And they have a daughter, Scarlett. Mrs. Swan said she's 16, just like you. Moved all the way from Virginia, they did. Mr. Swan wasn't home, but Mrs. Swan told me he owns factories all up and down the east coast. They make curtains and clothes and bedsheets and everything! No wonder they've got all that money!"

I gulped my water while Ma gave me all the details. Scarlett was an only child. They had family in the next town over, but they didn't see them very often. Mrs. Swan loved desserts and anything sweet. Mr. Swan bought them everything they wanted and they had fine china Ma had never seen before.

"Are they racist?" I cut in, setting my glass on the counter.

"They …" Ma hesitated and sighed. "Who isn't, Lincoln? You know I can't tell everyone our business. 'Sides, they're likely to find out about Carlisle and I the second they walk into town. Folks are aching to gossip around here. I'll have to beg and plead just to keep my job. Until then, we need the money."

Ma only confirmed my fears. Scarlett was probably no better than her parents. She'd tell on me for sure. I wasn't going back over there, no matter how pretty she was.

"I'm making lunch. You want some, sweetie?"

I shook my head and Ma shrugged as she whistled around the kitchen, too happy to deal with my sulky, teenage mood. I walked past her to go outside, where I dug up Pa's stale cigarettes from underneath the porch. He claimed he didn't smoke, but I'd seen him and Embry light up a few now and again. Using a pack of old matches, I stuck a light and pulled on the filter.

I coughed slightly as I swung my legs back and forth off of the porch that had no railing. It was peaceful out there, even if the sun was cooking me from the inside out. It gave me time to think about Ma and her new job, how it would help Pa, and how I'd be all by myself again.

You don't have to be, I told myself.

I didn't. I could sneak out and meet the racist girl with the racist family and have us all killed.

Or she could be my friend.

That thought made me laugh darkly. We couldn't be friends. She was white and I was black. She was rich and I was poor. She was a girl and I was a boy. She was born to live and I was born to die. We were as different as day and night, and no amount of well-wishing would change that.

Taking one last puff, I crushed the butt and flicked it into the overgrown backyard. I steadied myself on my feet and walked back into the house, where Ma was making sandwiches. She had one prepared for me, but I shook my head.

"Not hungry, Ma. Can I lie down in your bed?"

She looked at me, concerned. "Sure, sweetie. Are you sick?"

"Tired. Heat and all," I said softly.

"I'll put this in the fridge for you. I might go over to Sue's later, so if you wake up and I'm gone, that's where I'll be."

I nodded once and trailed down the hall into their bedroom. Collapsing on the bed, I curled up into a ball, my mind filled with thoughts that drove me nearly mad. Finally I drifted asleep, tossing and turning as the sky darkened outside.

.

.

.

"Lincoln."

I was being moved back and forth against my will and my cheek touched something wet.

"Lincoln, wake up."

Pa stood over me in the dim light, pulling his shirt down over his muscular shoulders. "I'm leaving in a few minutes. Wanted to see if you were feeling better."

I yawned groggily, sitting up and wiping the drool from my face. "What time is it?"

"After five. I'm headed to work."

"In the morning?" I squinted to see the clock on the dresser and sure enough, it read a few minutes after five. Pa had to be to work by six, but he and Embry liked to get there early.

"Yep. Your Ma is asleep on the sofa. She said you were sick. You feeling better?" he asked, sitting next to me and touching my forehead. Pa's skin was always hot, so I wasn't sure exactly what he expected to accomplish by touching my head.

"Yeah, just tired that's all."

"Smoking my Slims will do that to you," Pa chuckled, tossing the crumbled pack my way. "You left these on the porch, Son. Don't let your ma catch you."

I grimaced because I'd been caught, but Pa just laughed again. "I got you a new pack. They're under the bottom step. Stretch them out. I don't have money to buy some every day."

"Right. Thanks, Pa."

Pa grinned and rubbed his wide hand over my scalp. "I know you're upset Esme got that new job, but it'll be good for us. You'll see."

"I know …" I trailed off as he watched me struggle to say what was on my mind. "Um, Pa? Did you ever consider what would happen to me once I grew up?"

Pa's eyebrows scrunched together and he tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"I'm getting bigger and older. What happens when I can't fit between the walls anymore? What happens when someone catches me?"

"That's not gonna happen," he reassured me confidently. "You're safe here. And as for growing up, well, there're folks every day fighting for freedom. That's the day I'm waiting on. When you can walk outside and not be shot or hung or hurt for the color of your skin. It'll come, Lincoln. It just takes patience."

"So you think blacks won't have to work for whites anymore?"

"I do. They say we're free now, but we're not really. We can't buy our own homes, we can't own businesses, we can't vote. But that will change. One day you'll be an adult, Lincoln, and you'll know a world I only dreamed of. You'll marry who you want, live where you want, work where you want. That's the world you deserve to live in. I don't want anything less for you."

"I don't get it," I said, frustrated. "Why is it worse for me than it is for you?"

"'Cause you represent fear and love, Son. See, white folks, they're scared of us. And what do you do with something you're scared of? You control it. You dangle it on strings like a puppet. That way, you can anticipate its next move. But when you're mixed—when you're both the puppeteer and the puppet—well, folks don't know what to do with folks like that. They don't know which side you're on."

"And the love part?" I questioned.

"You're love in a world full of hate. You're this example of unity that's questioning the system and what people thought was right. You're pushing folks together when the rest of the world wants 'em apart." Pa sighed and put his arm around me. "I don't ever want you to pick sides. You're not black and you're not white. You're Lincoln. And if your Ma catches you smoking, you'll be blue and purple all over. Now go back to bed."

I chuckled and Pa kissed my forehead. He finished putting on his boots and turned off the light. I couldn't go back to sleep, though. Ma was due to be at work at seven and my mind was made up.

I was going to see Scarlett.

.

.

.

I kissed Ma goodbye while she searched for purse I had hidden. By the time she found it, I was already in the bed of the truck. I internally kicked myself for not dressing nicer, but it wasn't like I had anything to wear. Pa's clothes were big and hung loosely on me, so I was stuck in the same beige shirt and trousers I always wore. At least I wore shoes that day.

The ride to the Swans' was bumpy and Ma had trouble with the stick shift. She'd jerk and break and I'd slide forward and back. The heat was just as bad as the day before. When she finally parked the truck, I hesitated on what to do.

I reckoned I would wait for Scarlett.

Or a noose, depending on if she told anyone.

I brushed the wood chips from my clothes as much as I could without moving too much. After about ten minutes, the tarp flew off of me and Scarlett stood hovering in the bright sun.

I breathed heavily, waiting to see if anyone was behind her, but she was by herself.

"There's an old treehouse in the woods behind our home. Wait five minutes and then make a run for it. I'm not walking with you. If you get caught, you're on your own."

She let the tarp back down without another word. I did as she said and counted every second with pounding heartbeats. When I got to 300, I peeked to make sure no one was around. When the coast was clear, I ran for my life through the side of her yard, past the enormous pool and small white building, and into the woods.

Pa's oversized loafers slid as I sprinted over dead leaves and broken branches. Seeing the treehouse in the distance, I continued my speed until I reached the rickety stairs. Rusted nails were secured into an old oak tree trunk, but it didn't collapse as I originally thought. I climbed to the top and finally, there she was.

Sitting with her legs tucked to the side, Scarlett was perched casually as she flipped through an old book. I wiped the sweat from my brow and sat across from her. She had a blanket sprawled out, but it was very clean and I supposed she had gotten it from inside her home.

"Took you long enough."

I glanced at her in bewilderment and she laughed. There was something about it too, the way her whole body shook and her head fell back while her mouth fell open.

"I'm being sarcastic," she groaned, rolling her eyes. I didn't understand her humor, so I sat as far away as possible and brushed off my clothes.

She wore another one of her fancy dresses, but it was pale yellow with a lot of lines. Plaid, I think. It didn't matter. She was even prettier than the day before.

We sat in silence and I stared out the tiny circular hole of a window. The treehouse was almost half a mile from her estate, and I wondered how she'd found it.

"I discovered this when I walked around while my parents were signing the mortgage papers," Scarlett said, reading my mind. "It was one of the reasons I actually liked this house. My old one didn't have this. Kind of cool, I guess. Mother and Father don't even know it's back here."

I nodded nervously. I had a million questions. Did she have a nickname? Did she like being an only child? Why didn't she tell on me?

Finally, I settled on the last one and bravely asked her.

"Well … I knew that Negro Jenks—that's our butler—knew something about your mother, but he acted ignorant like he always does. I suppose you could say this is more about me having collateral over him than you."

That wasn't the answer I was expecting and I frowned. Ma was right—they were racist. I could tell by the way the words spewed from her mouth. They dripped with hatred and intolerance for those who differed from her.

Mainly, me.

"Just because he's black doesn't mean he's ignorant," I said.

As soon as my defiance left my lips, I covered my hands over my mouth. What was I thinking? I couldn't talk to her like that! My heart beat erratically but Scarlett just laughed again.

"Oh my, the skunk has a backbone!" she giggled to herself.

Skunk? I stared at her in confusion.

"Because you're black and white!"

I shifted uneasily. It wasn't that I was expecting her to be nice, but I wasn't expecting that either. Why was she like that? Were her parents worse? I didn't want to stick around and find out.

I put my hands on the edge of the make-shift entrance, prepared to climb out.

"Oh come on," she said half-heartedly. "Don't tell me you're offended. I'm sure people call you all sorts of names. You've got to be used to it by now."

"No," I replied quietly. "Nobody calls me anything."

"Not at school or church or at the market?"

I shook my head. "Scarlett, no one knows I exist. Just you."

Her jaw grew slack and she opened her mouth and closed it again. For once, she was speechless. She gazed at me in shock, trying to determine whether or not I was joking.

I wasn't.

"It's illegal to mix races," I explained. "Didn't you know that?"

"I … no …" Scarlett stumbled over her words. "I'm from Virginia. It's frowned upon … gross, even …and people don't do that where I'm from, but it's not illegal."

"Really?" When she nodded, I scowled internally. Why couldn't my parents just move there? Why hide me like an animal in a locked cage when I could be free? Was it just Birmingham? Or all of Alabama? Or just the deep southern states?

"Don't get me wrong, I think you're an abomination. I have half the heart to tell my parents your mother had a black man and a mixed son, but only because we don't believe in stuff like that. I didn't know it was illegal."

My heart dropped. Now she did know. I was scared she was going to tell on me, this time to the authorities, but she smiled.

"Lucky for you, I like secrets. And I'm curious. Mother calls it nosy, but I beg to differ. What's it like? Do you feel white or black? Do you wish you were one or the other? Is your father around or did he leave like a colored man would? Do you have any Skunk siblings?"

She wouldn't stop talking and every question was more prejudiced than the last. All of her jabbering started to stress me out. I pulled out the cigarettes Pa gave me and lit one up.

She stared in awe as she watched me puff.

"I'm blue and purple," I replied.

"Blue and purple?" she repeated.

"The colors I'll be if Ma catches me up here smoking with a white girl," I joked and when Scarlett threw back her head in laughter, all I saw were red and brown curls dancing in the summer sun.