• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“That, and ’cause when the census takers went around after the big war, they found slaves who didn’t know they wasn’t slaves no more.”

Prickles run up my arms. “How could people not know?”

“My grandmother didn’t. My mother was seven years old in 1870 when a census taker came to the door and told her they was free. Five years after the war ended.”

Slaves five years longer than they had to be. I feel like some giant animal has stomped on me.

A hoot comes from far off, then a screech.

“Know what that was?” asks Patricia.

“No.”

“A barred owl just caught him a snake. I hope it was a coral snake. They look so pretty and act so mean. Why, a coral snake would do his grandma out of her supper if he had a chance.” She turns and skips ahead again. Skips barefoot, after talking about a coral snake.

I run and catch up.

A rat-a-tat comes from somewhere ahead.

“Ivory-billed woodpecker,” says Patricia. “See that bit of white?” She points.

“I don’t see a thing.”

“It’s hard in the dark. He big and fat—the biggest woodpecker of all. But he black, so the night hide him, even his red crest. All you can see is that bright white bill. Look up in that old tree. They like the oldest trees. There. See him?”

And I do now. A little speck of white.

“Looking for a mate,” says Patricia.

“Is that what his pecking means?”

“When the beats come regular. If they come all crazy, then you just got one hungry bird, pecking for grubs.”

“And that?” I point where something flew low. “What was that?”

“Hush.” Patricia puts her hand on my arm to still me.

Her hand is warm and soft.

After a while the call sings out.

“I thought so. A nightjar.”

“It flew like the bats in Sicily.”

“Both of them swoop low to catch insects.”

“You said you know everything about birds. It’s true. How’d you learn?”

She takes her hand off my arm.

In a flash of courage, I catch that hand.

She doesn’t pull away.

We’re hand in hand. It doesn’t matter where we go now, we’re hand in hand.

“Uncle Bill used to take all us young-uns out for hikes. Day and night. The others didn’t care. But I learned. And it mattered.”

“How?”

“I got sick when I was eight. Ran a fever all winter. Couldn’t eat, could barely drink. I had to stop school. For the whole year after that, Mamma was too afeared to let me go to school. She thought I might catch something even worse and die. All I did was stay by the window and listen to the birds.”

“That must have been hard, being sick.”

“Sure. But it was wonderful learning birds right. I love their calls. They use music to talk. And they chatterboxes like you wouldn’t believe. They talk all the time. Less at night, but if you pay attention, you hear them. Listen.”

I listen. At first there’s nothing. Then… “You’re right. The night’s full of birdcalls.”

“Not them frogs. Listen to the other ones. The far-off calls.”

I strain. And there they are. Distant and soft with long silence between.

“Whip-poor-wills,” she says. “Anyway, I missed two years of school. I had to study extra hard to graduate lower school on time.”

“I knew you were smart.”

She stops in her tracks. “You trying to butter me up for a kiss?”

I feel all crazy. I’ve never kissed a girl. I step toward her.

She points past me. I look. “The edge of town. You know what they do to you if they see you kiss a colored girl?”

I step closer. “I don’t care.”

“You got no idea.”

I kiss her. And she kisses me back. Warm and sweet and wet.

“Good night, Calogero,” she says right into my mouth. “You got soft lips. They feel nice.” She steps away.

All I want is to pull her to me again. But I don’t. “I’ll walk you back home.”

“No you won’t. You too slow. I’m running.”

I hold her hand tighter. “Don’t run. Cirone and I saw a panther. They chase runners.”

“Silly. Ain’t enough trees between here and home for a panther to feel safe. I’m running.”

“What’s the hurry?”

“Every human being got his race to run.”

“Is that a riddle or something?”

She smiles. “My mamma say that. I got mine. You got yours. Be quick!