Fire from the Rock (24 page)

“Not that I've heard of. It's like the governor is creating a monster and it's getting bigger and stronger every day.”

Later that evening the monster grew uglier and more frightening. Sylvia and her family watched in silence as the governor came on television and announced that he had called out the National Guard “to prohibit the nine black students from entering Central High School.” He said that he had received warnings about “caravans of automobiles, filled with white supremacists,” which were headed toward Little Rock.

“Is he making this up as he goes?” Gary asked, his mouth open in disbelief.

“Do you think it's true?” Sylvia asked him fearfully.

“What's true is that Faubus is the king of all racists, and he's feeding the fear of lots of folks who wouldn't like integration but wouldn't have the nerve to try to stop it.”

They listened quietly to the rest of the governor's speech. He also declared Horace Mann School off-limits to whites. Gary and Sylvia laughed out loud at that. “Ha!” Gary snorted. “Fat chance of any white kids hanging around our school anyway!”

Governor Faubus ended his speech by saying “blood will run in the streets” if black students should try to enter Central High School. Gary and Sylvia stopped laughing.

It was the first day of school. “I have to leave early, Sylvia,” her mother said as she put on a pearl earring. “Donna Jean! Get your shoes on and let's go. The children at school are going to need me today—I don't want them to be any more frightened than necessary. Several of them have brothers or sisters who are heading to Central today.” She grabbed DJ's lunch and her school bag and hurried out the door. “Come on, Lester! Hurry up!”

Mr. Patterson grinned at Sylvia and gulped the last of his coffee. “Don't mess with a woman wearing pearls! I'll be right back,” he said, “to take you and Gary over to Mann.”

Gary, already dressed, sat in the living room, mesmerized by the events unfolding on the television screen. “Come here, Sylvie,” he said. “You're not gonna believe this.”

Sylvia flopped down on the sofa, careful not to wrinkle her new dress, and watched in amazement while the camera panned the vastness of Central High School, huge and imposing, taking up a whole city block. “It looks like a castle or a fortress—all brick and brown and solid.”

“Yeah. Like something out of a history book,” Gary said.

Sylvia shuddered because today, on the front steps, and in front of the huge front doors, stood soldiers, dressed in dull green. “It's like watching a movie, Gary,” Sylvia said in sad horror. “Only this is very live and very real, happening right here in Little Rock, just a few blocks from our house.”

“I want to be out there with them,” he replied passionately. “I want to stand up for my people, fight for my rights!”

“Gary!” she shrieked. “They've got guns!”

“Yeah, they do. With real bullets.”

“Who are they gonna shoot—the kids who try to integrate, or the protesters?”

“I have no idea.”

Hundreds of white students nervously approached their school with what Sylvia knew was more than the normal worries about the first day of the school year. Instead of the usual noise and laughter that you'd expect from teenagers, it was eerily silent. But every single white student entered the front door with no problem.

“Where are the Negro students?” their father asked when he returned.

“We haven't seen any yet,” Gary told his father. Mr. Patterson, instead of rushing Gary and Sylvia to school, sat down in the living room and watched the unbelievable scene with them.

A reporter stopped a few students and interviewed them as they climbed the steps to enter the building. “What do you think about the National Guard being at your school?” a female student was asked.

“I think they're cute!” she replied. “It's exciting they're here, and it makes me feel safe.”

“What do
you
think about integration?” the reporter asked a young man.

“I think it's fine, but I think the coloreds are rushing it too much. They should wait until next year—by then I'll have graduated!” He laughed and walked into the building.

A dark-haired young woman walked up the steps next. Sylvia gasped as she recognized the girl immediately.

“Daddy! It's Rachel Zucker! Wait till she finds out she's been on television. She'll be so excited.”

“Do you have any comments to make on this historic day?” the reporter asked Rachel, thrusting the microphone in front of her.

“I would like to see a world where no hatred exists,” she said clearly. She then marched past him.

“Hah!” Gary laughed. “I bet the reporter didn't like that answer!”

“He had no idea what Rachel's been through in the past few weeks. I'm proud of her,” Sylvia said.

Another reporter came on camera and stated, with excitement in his voice, “The Mothers' Coalition held a sunrise service this morning, right here at the school.” Sylvia figured he was hoping something horrible or exciting would happen. Reporters seemed to like bad news. He continued, “About two hundred people attended. They sang ‘Dixie,' raised the Confederate battle flag, and praised Faubus's speech.”

Sylvia's father grunted at that and stood up. “Let's get you two to school. I'm more glad than ever that neither of you are in that group. For some reason I seem to prefer my children safe and not bleeding all over the carpet.”

“I'm willing to bleed, Dad,” Gary reminded him.

“I know you are, son. We just want to see you safely to graduation. Don't try to save the world for a while, you hear? And don't you dare go over to that school!” Gary grabbed his books, but said nothing in response.

School was hot, crowded, and, in spite of all the tension in the rest of the city, actually fun for Sylvia. She liked her teachers, her classes looked as if they were going to be challenging like she liked them to be, and she knew most of the students. Everything just felt
right.

“Hey, Sylvia,” Calvin said, coming up behind her and tickling her.

“Hey, yourself. How's your mom?”

“She's started selling flowers out of Grandpa's house now, so the living room is stuffed with carnations and tulips, and the bathroom is full of roses. Really rough when you have to use the toilet!” He made a face.

Sylvia laughed. “I'm glad things are bouncing back a little.”

“Do you know Reggie has already started sending money to us? Mama didn't think he would, but an envelope with a few dollars has come every week since he left.”

“I'm glad,” Sylvia replied. “Tell your mother if there's anything she needs, just call me.”

“Speaking of needy women,” Calvin said with a grin, “if you ever need somebody to lean on, I'm your man,” Calvin told her. “Just don't ask to use my bathroom!” He laughed and ran to his next class.

Sylvia couldn't believe that her life was so pleasant right now, while nine of her friends had to be biting their fingernails to the bone, worrying about what would happen. That's all the teenagers at Mann talked about at lunch.

“I think they ought to leave well enough alone and wait until things calm down a little before they try to integrate,” Lou Ann said.

“How long? Another hundred years?” a big football player named Edwin answered with a jeer.

“I don't see
you
out there signing up to go!” Lou Ann reminded him. He said nothing more.

“White folks always get what they want. It's gonna get ugly out there if those nine kids try to buck the governor,” a girl named Lizzie said.

“You get the idea the nine of them are being used by the political folks?” Lou Ann asked.

“I feel sorry for them,” Candy Castle said. She wore a surprisingly simple navy blue dress that was not tight or revealing. Maybe she's
changed,
Sylvia noted.

“I'm scared for them,” Sylvia said quietly. Most kids murmured agreement.

“Are you glad you're no longer on the list?” Lou Ann asked Sylvia.

“A little.” Sylvia's stomach churned. “I feel guilty, though, like I gave up—not on me, but on them.”

“Well, it starts tomorrow,” Lou Ann said. “Miss Daisy is a friend of my mother, and she told her they would finally try tomorrow.”

“Are the soldiers there to help them go in or to keep them out?”

“I think the governor plans to keep them out,” Lou Ann replied solemnly.

Donna Jean has a bad cold, Sylvia Faye. Do you think you could stay home with her today?”

“Mama!” Sylvia protested. “It's the second day of school! No fair!”

“She's sneezing, she's got a temperature, and I just can't stay with her—not today. You know I never ask you to do this, but it's an emergency.”

“What about Gary?”

“He left early, and your father has a prayer meeting with the rest of the preachers in town. I gave DJ a couple of baby aspirin, so she'll sleep most of the morning. Just fix her some soup a little later on. You're my right hand, Sylvie.” Her mother kissed her on the forehead and hurried out the door.

Sylvia sighed with resignation.
Well, there goes my perfect attendance award! Just when classes are starting and I don't

want to miss one single thing.
She fixed herself a bowl of oatmeal and settled down in front of the television to see what was happening at Central.

The doorbell rang just as the news crews were beginning to broadcast. Sylvia was surprised to see Aunt Bessie.

“Your mother called and told me DJ was sick.”

“She made me stay home with her,” Sylvia replied grumpily. “If I had known you were coming, I coulda gone to school.”

“Well, your mother knows I never close the shop, but nobody is gonna be coming in to get their hair done today. It's not safe to be on the streets of Little Rock. I came to see if you needed a little company.” She sat down on the sofa with Sylvia and they watched the news reports.

“That's an awfully big crowd of white people standing outside the school,” Sylvia said. “They look pretty angry.”

“Don't these folks have jobs?” Aunt Bessie asked. “They look like they're just waiting.”

“For what?” Sylvia moved closer to her aunt.
I'm glad Aunt Bessie is here with me.

“For something to happen. For the colored kids to dare to show up,” Bessie replied ominously.

Sylvia watched the scene intently. “The white kids seem to be going in the building with no problem.”

“Oh, look! The crowd is moving! What's happening? It's like a giant white beast—moving in to attack. It's one of the colored kids. Poor baby. ”

“It's Elizabeth Eckford!” Sylvia exclaimed. “She's all alone. Where are the other eight?”

She walked alone. Down that long sidewalk in front of the school, up to the steps that led to the front door, she walked with her head held high, slowly, deliberately. Dressed neatly in a white dress with black trim, she walked, looking neither to the right nor the left. She wore dark sunglasses.

“Lord, help her!” Aunt Bessie whispered.

“Why is she all by herself?” Sylvia watched—fascinated and horrified.

“She's getting close to the door!”

“There's some white kids in front of her—they're going in with no problem—the guardsmen are letting them by. She's gonna be okay.” Sylvia rose to her feet.

“They're crossing their guns! I don't believe this! They're not going to let the child get past them!” Aunt Bessie was screaming at the television screen. “I thought the guards were there to protect the Negro kids!”

It was clear Elizabeth was frustrated—she tried several times to get past the guards. The last time she tried, they pointed their bayonets at her.

“They're pointing guns at her! Are they going to shoot a teenager on live television?”

“Oh, my Lord,” Aunt Bessie mumbled, her eyes fixed on the television screen.

Sylvia grabbed her aunt's hand. “If that was me, I'd be so scared I'd be wetting my pants. I know she's terrified!”

Elizabeth turned then, glanced around to see what she should do, or to look for help perhaps, and all that stood in front of her was a sea of angry white faces. She walked slowly down the steps, and as she got closer to what was now a mob, they grew fierce.

Sylvia started to cry as she watched. “Oh, Aunt Bessie, a lady is spitting on her.”

“She's all alone,” Aunt Bessie moaned.

“They're calling her names! How can grown-ups do that to a kid?” Tears streamed down Sylvia's face.

Elizabeth walked slowly and silently. It was unbelievable.

“Get her! Lynch her!” Aunt Bessie repeated the words in whispered disbelief as she heard them on the screen. “Get a rope and drag her over to this tree. Let's take care of this nigger now!” She gulped and looked at Sylvia. “How can this be happening?”

The faces of the people in the mob were distorted with hatred. Through it all, Elizabeth said nothing, but walked slowly toward the bus stop across the street.

“Aunt Bessie, she's trembling. She can't stop shaking. Won't somebody help her, please?”

The cameras kept losing her in the crowd, but Sylvia could see Elizabeth had finally made it to the bus stop. The mob jeered and cursed.

“Oh, look, somebody is going to help! One sane person in a sea of crazy people!” A white woman approached Elizabeth, sat down next to her at the bus stop, and put her arm around her. When the bus arrived, she helped her get safely into a seat.