Good Fortune (9781416998631) (33 page)

“Sebastian, when you headed to the city again?”

“What you ask fo'?”

“They need a servant fo' the schoolhouse, so I'm goin' to see if I can work.” His silence and the serious expression in his eyes baffled me. Why couldn't the two of them understand what this meant?

“They askin' fo' a black servant, Anna?” Daniel asked me. I shook my head, and his eyes traveled from mine to Florence's. Florence shrugged at him as if to say,
She's your sister!

“What's wrong with you two?” I asked, irritation
weighing down my words. “This a school—it's my chance! All I wanna do is keep learnin' wherever I can until we find a place that has a black school. Till then, the least I can do is listen in on lessons at the schoolhouse!”

“Anna, that ain't no school fo' us. It ain't safe fo' me, it ain't safe fo' you, it ain't safe fo' any of us.” Florence mumbled in agreement. I stared hard at my brother as he looked sheepishly back.

“All right, then. I'll walk to the city,” I said, standing. Daniel grabbed my arm.

“Now, Anna, don't go an' do that. Jus' listen to what we sayin'. What we talkin' of makes a lotta sense. An' besides, I bin askin' round fo' you, tryin' to find some black school somewhere.”

My anger lessened a bit. “You have?”

He nodded. “If it's learnin' you want, we gonna find it. But don't go puttin' yo'self in no danger. Now listen, I came here to see if Mama Bessie'll let y'all come on wit me. I'm travelin' to the Gibson community. Got some business to take care of, an' I'm gonna need me some comp'ny. Should be back before dark.”

“Think I'll stay. Got some cleanin' to do,” I said, turning to go into the house.

“Flo?” Daniel said. I waited to hear her verbalize what she did and did not have to do that day, and finally agree to travel with him, and then I shut the door.

Inside, I looked at the newspaper again, and felt Florence and Daniel's warnings evaporate.

This is just too right!

As soon as Florence and Daniel were off, I washed up and put on my best dress. Finding Mama Bessie, I told her I was headed to town.

“To Dayton?” she asked.

“Yes, Mama Bessie.”

“With who?”

“Just me, Mama Bessie, but its important business an' I suspect I'm already a little late.” Mama Bessie put her hands on her hips and eyed me closely.

“Gonna let you go, but I want you to wait for Mrs. Eli an' her sons. They come through here once a week, an' I'm sure they'll be glad to give you a ride.”

I agreed but asked, “When they gonna be here, Mama Bessie?” She looked past me to the window.

“Any minute now. Best be gettin' on out there.” Suddenly, a smile formed on her lips.

“There a dark fellow you meetin' up with?”

“No, ma'am,” I said, startled. “I ain't meetin' with nobody.” But I could tell she wasn't convinced.

“All right. Would you buy somethin' for me?” she asked as we walked outside. Mama Bessie dropped a few coins in my hand and described what she needed. “You go on now, but come on right back here.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

The school was situated at the outskirts of the city, almost isolated from Dayton. It was surrounded by grass and a
few trees on an acre's worth of land. This provided space for the children to play and run around in the mornings, and the separation between the school and the city allowed for fewer distractions. The building was smaller than the schoolhouse Masta's children had attended in Tennessee.

After thanking Mrs. Eli and her sons for the ride, I hopped out. I stood and took in the sight of the school building, then crouched in the shadows of the county jailhouse to think for a moment. The school seemed to call out to me, though the idea of approaching the place made me apprehensive.

What if Florence and Daniel were right? What if this is dangerous?

The questions came, but they settled uneasily somewhere out of my reach. This was my chance, my one chance to steal my education like I stole my freedom. Surely nothing could stop me in my pursuit.

After staring at the school a few moments longer, I decided to go to the stitching shop to buy what Mama Bessie needed. After this, I paced the outskirts of the city for nearly an hour, going into the general store and otherwise busying myself in order to blend in with the people bustling around me.

Eventually, I heard the faint sound of a bell ringing nearby, as though it were summoning me. I rushed back into the shadows of the jailhouse and watched as the young children spilled with enthusiasm from the school building. I waited there, following the last of the children with my eyes down the crooked, dusty path that led away from the school.

As the last of them disappeared from view, I emerged, straightened my clothes, and made my way up the path to the school door. It took only two knocks before the door was jerked open. A young, plump face appeared in the doorway. Her cheeks were flushed red, perhaps from the heat within or from a long day of teaching. Upon seeing me, the woman furrowed her brows together and straightened her back with a slight, almost unnoticeable step away from the doorway.

“There something you need, miss?”

“Yes, ma'am, there is. I noticed that you'd do mighty good, here, with a servant of some kind, ma'am. I could clean up the school buildin' an' take care of the windows an' the heatin' durin' the day an'—”

“It's a single room! What do we need a servant for? We especially don't need black servants in this school. We have the help we need, and it's best you stay away from the school.”

“Yes, ma'am, but I done heard the woman who helped out done passed away, an' I know I got the experience fo' this an'—”

“Do you hear what I say? We don't need you here. The city doesn't need you here, and the city is what pays. Now go on and leave. These folks around here don't like to see you blacks near the school.”

“But, ma'am …”

As if to further emphasize her words, she placed both hands on her hips and stepped farther outside, pulling the door closed behind her. She moved toward me so swiftly that I almost stumbled backward.

“I think I've said what I needed to say. Now you're going to have to go. They have work down in the city. Find some place there.” I supposed I should have guessed from the start that the schoolteacher had no intention of listening to what I had to say, but I could not simply walk away so readily, still hoping, still feeling as if an education were possible. I stood on the steps, gazing around her at the building, the windows, the letters scratched conspicuously on the walls.

God, all I want …

“Go on now!” The woman said, interrupting my silent prayer and motioning for me to leave.

I walked slowly back along the path, feeling the teacher's eyes burning holes in my soul as I left. Sullenness crept upon me as my head pounded: I was hurt. But I kept my head raised high, my shoulders boldly pulled back, and my gait sure and focused. Her angry dismissal of me only made me more determined. I kicked up the dust and memorized the details of our exchange. Certainty hung in the air, and I hoped she could feel it.

I would be back.

But my thoughts of returning were suspended when I saw a finely dressed man turn onto the school's path. I lowered my gaze and quickened my step, attempting, with no avail, to pass unnoticed.

“Miss.” I lifted my head and stopped short, as if surprised. The man was tall, and I found myself looking up into what seemed to be a light-skinned, handsome face, though his hat made it difficult to see him clearly.

“Yessah?” I responded nervously, glancing quickly away, and praying I could avoid trouble.

“Perhaps it's not my place …” The man had a strangeness about him, and I couldn't tell what his intentions were. So I stood there, awaiting his words.

“But, miss, I don't think you understand the rules here. Blacks usually don't come around this way.” I nodded, waiting for more. His lips opened again, but after a nod, he continued toward the school.

A week or so passed, during which time I pondered long and hard my decision to return to the school.

“You're not still upset, are you?” Florence had asked me repeatedly in the days after our first, tense conversation about the incident.

“No, I ain't upset,” I'd assure her, holding strong to my secret in my heart. I'd keep it buried with me until nighttime, when I found myself envisioning John sitting beside me and sharing words of support.

What do you think, John? Should I go back? What would you do?

I'd go back.

Of course you'd go back, John, that's how you are! But you think it's smart?

I think you're smart. Follow your heart.

And that was it. He'd disappear into the night.

Using these imagined assurances and my own instincts, I made up my mind.

I woke up early that morning, before Florence, and crept out the door. My absence wouldn't be so unusual; occasionally, I took walks before our morning work, when nighttime offered me little sleep.

I headed down the road, intent on running into a townsman traveling in the direction I was headed. Sure enough, a wagon rolled slowly by me.

“Sah!” I called out to him. The wagon kept rolling as the man waved his hand in the air, signaling to me that he couldn't stop.

“Sah, please!” I called again. Hesitantly, the wagon slowed.

“You goin' to Dayton, sah?” I asked, running up to him.

“Sure am, but ain't got no room in here.”

“Sah, I really need to get to the city.”

“Look, miss, I apologize, but—” He ceased his speech as I leaned over and pressed a coin into his hand.

“A quarter, sah. A whole twenty-five cents.”

He looked at me, speechless. “You … you need a ride back here, too?”

“Just need to get up there, sah,” I said, shaking my head.

He hopped out of his seat and helped me into the wagon. I rode by the man's side, silent, as he talked excitedly.

“You know what I can do wit this twenty-five cents?” he asked me. Not waiting for my reply, he listed what he planned for himself and his family. I could barely hold on to his words as my own plans spun around in my head, making me more and more nervous. The school most likely had two or three teachers, who, if I understood correctly,
lived with different local families. I clung to the hope that I would meet a different teacher who would hear me out and offer me the job as servant.

About half a mile from the city, I asked the driver to let me off. Upon reaching the school, I let out a sigh of relief as I noticed the children darting in and out of the school building. Their morning had not yet begun.

My presence was not as obvious this time around. I approached from behind the building and knocked softly on the door, nodding vaguely at the children who stood staring at me. I was greeted at the door by a young boy a third my size, whose rosy red cheeks seemed to giggle up at me.

“Yes?” he asked innocently in his high pitched voice.

“I'm here to see your teacher,” I said to him.

“She's not here yet. You wanna come in?” His hands were already on my wrist as he dragged me with enthusiasm through the door.

The noise, chatter, and laughter abruptly ceased. I looked around, caught off guard by the sea of white faces and empty stares.

“Why you wanna speak to her?” The young boy's voice rang out, breaking the silence.

“Fo' work,” I said, trying to calm my nervousness by turning my full attention to him.

“Oh,” he said, staring at me as the other children, now mumbling among themselves, began to leave the room. I watched them with contempt. They were just children—at least, more than half of them were! What could they see in me that was so revolting?

“You gonna learn, too, like we are?” I looked down at the young boy and suddenly felt a strong sense of appreciation for his naivety.