Cherry and Cinnynala: I asked God how am I supposed to know what friendship feels like. He ain't answer me but then you made me laugh and my sides hurt, my belly ached, and the pee came running down my legs. That's His way of letting me know its real, I reckon.

Readers:

"Go on," she said. "Write it out. They'll see what you're trying to do."

"And if they don't?" I asked.

"Even the blind can read, sug."

-Conversation with my heart

Chapter Six: Acceptance

"Every morning, until you dead in the ground, you gonna have to make this decision. You gonna have to ask yourself, "Am I gonna believe what them fools say about me today?"

~Kathryn Stockett

(EPOV)

I stayed up all Wednesday night thinking about Scarlett. I shouldn't have touched her. She asked me not to and I did it anyways. I just wanted to … I don't know what I wanted. Besides Ma, I'd never had physical contact with another female. It felt nice until she burst into tears and after that, it took almost two hours for her to return. She was dressed differently, even smelled different. When I asked her about it, she just shrugged me off. We didn't talk much, just comments here and there, and it was awkward.

I didn't go with Ma on Thursday. It took everything in me not to hide in the truck, but I didn't. I thought Scarlett needed space from me, that we were hanging out too much, too soon. I craved the interaction with her and every second of the day, I thought about what she was doing.

I didn't think she missed me, but I missed her.

Years of loneliness and solidarity could do that to a person.

By the time Ma came home, I nearly jumped out of my skin.

I hugged her tightly as soon as she walked through the door and she laughed.

"Goodness! I guess I'm getting all the love today!" I let her go so she could place her purse down, and then I followed her into the kitchen. I handed her a cup of water while she sat down, visibly exhausted.

"How was your day today?" I asked anxiously.

"Good," she nodded, pausing to take a sip. "I'm tired though. Mrs. Swan's daughter barely left my side today."

"Scarlett?" I questioned too eagerly.

"Er, yeah," Ma answered, shocked I remembered her name. "Usually she disappears for hours at a time, but she followed me around asking all sorts of questions."

"About what?"

Ma shrugged. "I don't know. About random information, I guess. Where we lived, what my husband was like, if I had any children."

I sat in the empty chair across from Ma, tucking one leg beneath me. "What did you tell her?"

"I was vague about some details, you know that. Besides, I think she just wanted the company. She seemed sort of sad. I forgot school was out. That child hasn't made any new friends down here."

She has a friend, I wanted to say. But I remained quiet.

"Besides," Ma continued, "she's going to have to get adjusted to life in Birmingham first. You should see the way she treats their poor butler, Jenks. Negro this, darkie that. Mrs. Swan can be prejudice to a degree, but oh my soul! And Mr. Swan? I finally met him and I can see the apple doesn't fall far the tree. He nearly beat Jenks in front of me just for spilling a pitcher of tea. Even if you were ever allowed to be in public, Edward, I would never accept you socializing with people like that. They're rude, racist, and close-minded. Lord, help that child. She never stood a chance with a father like Charles Swan. The bigotry runs through her veins."

I wanted to defend Scarlett's honor, but I couldn't. One, because Ma couldn't know that I knew her, and two, because everything she said was true.

"I'm just preparing myself for next week," Ma sighed. "They've got family coming in which means more cleaning for me."

"Family?" I didn't remember Scarlett mentioning her kin.

"James something or the other from Mr. Swan's side. I can't remember. I'm going to spend all day tomorrow decorating and cleaning the guest rooms. I'm going to sleep, honey. I'm all talked out for the day. If I'm not awake by the time your father gets home, tell him there's left over stew in the fridge."

Ma struggled to her feet and trudged her way to the bedroom. I heard her collapse on the bed without even changing out of her uniform first.

Sighing because I was by myself once again, I cleaned the already orderly house and heated up the stew for Pa and myself. By the time I was pulling bowls out of the cabinet, Pa arrived home.

"How was your day, Pa?"

"I'm breathing, aren't I?" he chuckled, wrapping me into a hug. He smelled outdoorsy and a layer of sweat coated his face.

"Ma said she was exhausted and lay down. I warmed up some stew for us." I set our places and when I dropped a spoon, I leaned over to pick it up.

"Hey, whatcha got there?" Pa pointed at the necklace around my neck and I froze in fear.

"Oh … uh, this thing? I, um, found it. Outside," I mumbled, stumbling over my words. "In the ground. In the dirt to be exact. Probably some old, ancient thing no one wanted. Since it was outside and all. And, uh, old."

Pa laughed and held his hands up defensively. "Hey now, I wasn't gonna take it from you. I was just wondering, that's all."

I gulped and breathed unevenly as I rushed to the sink to rinse off the spoon. Pa waited for me so he could say grace and when he was done, we dug into our meal. We slurped and chewed loudly, until Pa finally spoke up.

"There's a rally coming up," he said slowly, as if he was unsure he wanted to tell me. "Protestors and such, scheduled for a month from now."

"You going?"

I tried to be nonchalant about the whole matter, but Pa saw the gleam in my eye. It wouldn't be the first time Birmingham had a march or rally from what he'd told me, but it would be the first time I'd be old enough to fully understand.

Pa nodded. "Gotta demonstrate for my son's rights. Of course I'm going. But, it's dangerous out there. Last time they had one was four years ago and folks got killed, beat, and hung. Police had the hoses spraying and it was a complete mess."

"Maybe we could—"

"No."

He wouldn't even give me a chance to state my case. "Pa, just listen. Biracial babies aren't illegal everywhere. If I go, no one will even know—"

Pa glared at me so hard I thought he might smack the black outta me. Or white. I wasn't sure which half he was mad at.

"How do you know that?"

There was no way I could tell him about the truck and sneaking out and Scarlett. I racked my brain for a lie, and a believable one at that. "I heard the neighbors talking…"

"Edward Lincoln!" Pa slammed his fist on the table and scowled.

Yep, he's definitely pissed at the black side. The white part of me would know better.

"You know you can't go that far out! What if someone saw you? What if they called the police, or worse? What if they decided to hurt you or take matters into their own hands? You've got to think, Son!"

"I am thinking!" I argued defiantly. "I'm thinking it's not illegal in states like Virginia, yet here I am, hiding in holes like a scared rat! Is that all I am to you, Pa? Vermin?"

"We ain't got the money to leave…" Pa sighed and rubbed the sides of his head. "And you know that's not true."

"Isn't it? 'Here's some cheese, Lincoln!'" I mocked, dangling a random carrot from my stew. "'Go on, now. Go back to your little vermin hole with your invisible vermin friends while the rest of us skedaddle about living and talking to real people!'"

I stood up, dropping the carrot back into the bowl. "I'm sick of it, Pa. I want to go out! I want to meet people and see the city and walk the streets. I want to be human, Pa. All I ever do is talk to you and Ma. I'm bored and I'm lonely and … and …"

I had become so frustrated and angry I didn't realize a tear had dropped out of my eye. Pa sat in agony, watching me pour out my soul.

"Let's go," he said with a stone-faced expression.

"W-what?" I don't think I heard him correctly. I wiped my face and sniffled.

"Let's go. You want to go out, so we will. Get in the truck." Pa stood up and before I could protest, he walked into the living room and grabbed Ma's keys from beside her purse.

In all of my sixteen years, I'd never seen my father appear the way he did then. His eyes were dead, like my words had sucked everything from them.

God was going to make me pay for that. The day Carlisle Masen's light stopped shining was the day thunder would roll and the sky would crack open.

I didn't know if he was being sarcastic or not, but when he held the front door open for me, I knew it was actually happening.

I was going to be free.

I'd been in the front yard of course, but never through the front door—at least not with his permission. My heart beat faster than my body could keep up with and I trembled as I crossed the threshold. It was only about six or so, and the sun was still up before it would trade places with the moon. I squinted as the door shut and bounced behind me.

As if I'd been doing this my whole life, I walked to the truck. The nearest house was a ways away, but it didn't stop me from glancing from side-to-side nervously. Pa didn't even bother to pacify me. He climbed into the driver's side and when I reached the passenger door, he started the engine. It came to life, rumbling and shaking as if it were opposing the trip we were about to make.

I closed my door and Pa pulled out of the driveway, silently staring daggers out of the front window. I rolled my passenger window down, turning the handle in slow circles as I felt the breeze on my face.

This was living!

I smelled the Alabama air and gazed in awe at the animals and farmhouses we passed. I inhaled the tobacco fields and ached to touch the cotton thorns. It was everything I ever dreamed, but better.

So much better.

The further we drove, the closer we got to the city. I could tell because the noises became louder, the homes turned into large buildings, and people were visibly walking.

Pa drove and turned a right here, and steered a left there, and finally parked in an alley. I squinted as people carried on about their day. Black folks walked on one side and whites on another. Sometimes a white person went to the left side, and even then it was only because they had to, but not once did a black cross over to the right.

"Go ahead, Lincoln," Pa finally said. "Walk. You want to walk and be amongst people. So do it."

I think he was trying to call my bluff, but I was so excited I paid him no mind. I opened the door and let it slam shut with an enthusiastic bang. He was worried over nothing.

I wasn't dressed properly and those stupid loafers slid over the black pavement. I took a step on the sidewalk, right beneath a stop sign. I glanced up and down the street, wondering which side I should take.

White.

A family of four was approaching, holding a small dog on a leash, but I held my head up confidently. You're one of them. Blend in. You have every right to be here as they do. What does Ma call it? Window shopping? Yeah, that's it. You're window shopping.

My knees wobbled I was so nervous. I thought about Scarlett. How would Scarlett act? What would she say?

Skunk.

Your kind.

Ignorant.

Abomination.

Well, that wasn't helping. Scarlett was just mean. I didn't think any color would claim her for an example.

Taking a deep breath, I took a step. And then another. And then another.

I walked towards the family, debating if I should say hello or nothing at all. Should I make eye contact?

No, don't do that. Nobody likes a creepy person.

Left foot, right foot, left foot, right.

I was doing it!

I turned around to give Pa a thumbs up and didn't realize the family was passing by me. The little dog started barking and I accidently bumped into the father. I was knocked several steps back, mostly because of his shoving hand.

Shit.

The man glared and barked at me louder than his dog ever could. "Fuckin' blackie! Watch where you're going! You need me to sell you down the river, boy? Get your bumper-lipped, ugly ass outta here you burnt toast nig—"

I raced across the street before he could finish, dodging an oncoming car. I gasped for air, holding my hands on my knees as I tried to catch my breath.

There were blacks sitting in a local diner, staring back at me through the glass. It wasn't until I saw my reflection in the window that I realized my mistake.

My hair.

What seemed shaved as of yesterday were now tiny tuffs of curled ringlets on my head. I swallowed, a large lump forming in my throat from the mix of adrenaline and pure fear.

But I wasn't giving up. I had to prove to Pa that I could make it on my own. Knowing he was still watching, I stood up, brushing off my wrinkled clothes.

I walked bravely into the diner, and it seemed like every pair of eyes were on me.

No, they definitely were.

A large black man with grease smeared on his apron stared at me from behind the counter. "You lost, Son?"

"No, sir. I, uh, just needed to rest a second."

"Not in here, you don't," he retorted, swinging a dishrag over his shoulder. "It ain't safe for crackers. Folks see a ghost in this eatery and they'll tear you apart, white bread. Best you head over to your side where you belong."

"But sir—"

"Did you hear me, mayonnaise? I ain't asking for no trouble. Now get out!"

I stumbled backwards, falling out of the door as if it were more than his words that had pushed me. A crowd of teenagers—four, maybe five—passed by, gaping in surprise that someone my color was on their turf.

"Looks like pasty's done traveled on the wrong side of the road," one of them laughed.

"Whatcha doing over here, honky?" a bigger one mocked. I assumed he was the leader. He towered over the others and stepped towards me until he was directly in my face. Another boy pushed me from behind.

I tried to leave, to walk away, but I was being shoved from all directions. Bystanders looked on, no one interfering or coming to my aide.

"Cut it out!" I yelled.

They cackled and hooted and before I could react, a swift blow hit my right eye. I held up my hands, but it was no use as my vision blurred before me. A nauseous wave that cramped my stomach caused me to double over, while a sharp pain swept across my jaw. The punches came, each one quicker and harder than the last. I heard the slight rasp of my shirt ripping, gripped by a dark hand covered in my own blood. I fell to the ground and a thick soled boot kicked me right in the ribs.

I couldn't tell if I was crying or screaming—probably both—when I heard Pa's voice yelling. I squeezed my one good eye shut and the hits stopped. Curse words filled the air and Pa lifted me up, cradling me in his arms.

"Son, can you hear me? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Teardrops fell onto my cheek from above and before I succumbed to darkness, I thought that life on the outside wasn't all that it was cracked up to be.

.

.

.

"Oh, my baby!"

My shoulder ached tremendously, but Ma shook it with no regard to my pain.

"Damn it, Carlisle! How could you? Why would you do this? What the hell is wrong with you?"

I moaned and tried unsuccessfully to pry my right eye open.

No such luck.

It was still blurry in my left, but that was better than nothing. Although the last thing I expected to see was Ma beating Pa with her fists against his chest.

"They could have killed him!" she shrieked. "Do you even know what I was thinking? I woke up and both of you were gone! I didn't know if you had died or gotten locked up or the truck broke down in a ditch somewhere …"

"Ma, you're being irrational. The truck has at least another hundred miles left before it dies."

My attempt at humor only caused Ma to cry. She crouched down beside me, holding and rocking me. "My baby …"

"Lincoln, I-I'm sorry." Pa paced back and forth, distressed because he was the cause of my brawl. No, not brawl. I got my ass kicked, plain and simple. "I was parked in a no parking zone and this officer comes out of nowhere to give me a ticket. By the time I saw you it was too late."

Ma turned and stared angrily at Pa. "You got a ticket?"

"Hello? Ice? Aspirin? Anyone?" I rolled my eyes and attempted to turn the conversation back to me. I moaned again and Ma finally stood up to go retrieve medicine.

"Lincoln—" Pa attempted to apologize but I shook my head.

"Don't. You were right. I don't belong anywhere. I would've gotten killed out there if you hadn't saved me, so thanks. There's a reason you protected me the way you have. I see that now."

It was a hard truth I finally had to see for myself.

"I didn't want you to learn a lesson like that, Son."

"No," I said, shaking my head against the sofa cushion. "Probably not. But now I can stop wondering and dreaming. Now I know. I'm too dark to be white and too light to be black."

"Lincoln—"

Pa reached out for me and I winced, sitting up. "No. I understand now."

"Understand what?" Ma asked.

I took the two white pills she offered me and gulped them down with the glass of water. I handed the cup back to her and grabbed the bag of ice. I stood up slowly, brushing off Ma's helping hand.

"I understand life. I understand what it's like to live 16 years in a hole, wishing there was some way I could get out. I know what it's like to pray and hope and wish and ask God for some kind of mercy. I prayed Pa. I prayed harder than any boy my age ought to. But you know what I discovered? I can't pray my way outta my own skin."

Ma choked on her tears and before she could decide on whether to collapse or hit Pa again, I left the room, heading towards the kitchen. I pulled on the handle of the dumbwaiter, climbed in, and shut the door closed.

With the bag of ice pressed against my face, I curled into a ball and fell asleep.

It was easier in there, safer even. I was exactly where I belonged.

.

.

.

"What happened to you?"

Scarlett stared at me in panic, alarm written all over her face. "Did your father—"

I rolled my left eye, but that hurt like hell so I just shook my head. "No, Scarlett. My Pa didn't beat me!"

"Oh."

I sighed and leaned against the rotting wood, too hurt and tired to argue with her. I think she sensed my irritation because she sat quietly for a moment, folding and unfolding the hem of her dress.

"Sorry," I said, apologizing. "I'm not mad at you. I had a rough day yesterday that's all."

"Want to talk about it?"

No.

But she actually looked concerned and before I knew it, I had rehashed every detail of yesterday's fight. She gasped at the appropriate times and even flinched when I told her about the kick to my ribs. By the end, she had covered her mouth with her hand.

"That's awful, Lincoln. I'm so sorry that happened to you!"

"Yeah, me too," I muttered, although I think my pride was hurt more than my eye. I was ashamed I couldn't defend myself and even more ashamed Scarlett saw the evidence of my weakness.

I cringed, trying to get comfortable on the hard wood and Scarlett put her hand under the blanket. I wondered what she was doing when she finally reached for me, covered with the soft material. She attempted to prop me up, but I was in no condition to be moved. Hiding in the truck, running through her backyard, and climbing up the tree proved to be too much this morning.

"Well, this is silly," she said, huffing.

"What?" I smirked. "You only touching me when your hands are covered?"

"No, smartass," she grinned. "It's hot out here and it's obvious you're in pain. You should come inside. There's air conditioning and a soft bed and—"

"I'm sorry," I exclaimed. "I must have misheard you. Did you just invite me inside? Inside your house? Are you crazy? Are you trying to get me killed? What part of ass-whooping did you not understand? Did I lose you at the blood spurting or was it the rib bruising? Oh wait, maybe you missed the 'swollen to a pulp' eye scene. Let me replay it for you again…"

"No one's home," she assured me. "Father's at work, Mother's meeting with people in the city about furniture, and Jenks is out grocery shopping. Esme's in charge of decorating the east wing so she'll be on the other side of the house. Besides, I'll get you in from the outside. No one will see us."

I mused it over for 3.5 seconds and then shook my head. "No way. Too dangerous."

Scarlett crouched towards the entrance and raised her eyebrow, waiting for me to take the bait.

"Fine. Sit in this heat bucket and cook for all I care. Don't expect me to move your lifeless body." Scarlett took one step down and smiled. "Hey, what happens to a black man after he dies?"

"I don't know."

"Negro-mortis."

Scarlett cackled and I shook my head in dismay. "You are the worst."

"I know. Now come on."

.

.

.

Scarlett's idea of getting me in included climbing the lattice outside of her window, balancing over a balcony, and sneaking in through her window. By the time I collapsed onto her cream-colored carpet, I was in excruciating pain.

It took several moments of holding my aching limbs before I appreciated my surroundings.

If I thought the outside of her home was grand, I was wrong. Scarlett's bedroom was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Shades of pristine whites, soft lavenders, and illuminating golds filled my sight. She had a bed the size of my entire living room, and even a sofa in the corner of the room.

There was something glass and sparkly that hung from her ceiling and I pointed. "What's that?"

She shrugged. "A chandelier? My, you haven't seen much, have you? Over here. You can lie down."

She offered no assistance in helping me stand but directed me to the large bed covered with flowered pillows and a silk comforter.

"You're going to let me lie on your bed?" I asked, surprised by her generosity.

"I don't mind. I'll have Jenks change the bedding after you leave."

Of course she would.

I stumbled to my feet, wobbling until I collapsed into a pile of ruffled layers.

Scarlett watched my every move, fascinated.

"Why are you staring?" I propped my head on the pillows, scooting myself into an upright position. She finally pulled a chair over and sat beside me.

"I'm just wondering," she mused, leaning over and propping her elbows on her knees. "It must be absolutely dreadful to not belong anywhere. At least if you were a full Negro, you would—"

"Scarlett."

"What?" She tilted her head, questioning my sudden change in mood.

"Just stop it, okay? I'm tired of talking about race and what color I am and what I'm not. Let's talk about something else."

Scarlett blinked, sighed, and then shifted in her seat. "Okay, what would you like to converse about?"

"I don't know," I replied. "Anything. What do you like to do? I like to read the Bible a lot. And sometimes Ma—"

"You can read?" she interrupted. "I thought coloreds were illiterate."

This was going to be harder than I thought.

I ignored her presumptuous notion and continued. "Yeah, one time Ma brought home all these books 'cause she said the library was renovating. I liked those. They were these fairy tales and my favorite was this story about the evil dragon …"

I jabbered on and on and Scarlett's eyes lit up about the knight who fell in love with a princess. She leaned in closer when I got to the part about the dragon torching the castle. My hands waved through the air dramatically and I told her how the entire kingdom rallied with the knight to defeat the raging monster and eventually, he married the princess.

By the time I had finished, Scarlett was two inches from me and she didn't even notice.