The Friendship

White folks took this name business mighty seriously.

Dewberry leaned across the store counter. “You don’t need no sardines, Tom. Ya stinkin’ of fish as it is.”

I nudged Stacey. “Now how he know what Mr. Tom Bee need?”

Stacey told me to hush.

“Don’t need no candy canes neither, Tom,” decided Dewberry. “Got no teeth to chew ’em with.”

Mr. Tom Bee stood his ground. “Y’all can’t get them sardines and that candy for me, y’all go get y’alls daddy and let him get it! Where John anyway?” he demanded. “He give me what I ask for, you sorry boys won’t!”

Suddenly the store went quiet. I could feel something was wrong. This name business was a touchy thing. White folks took it seriously. Mighty seriously. They expected to be addressed proper with that “mister” and “missus” sounding loud ahead of their names.

Dewberry pointed a warning finger at Mr. Tom Bee. “Old nigger,” he said, “don’t you never in this life speak to me that way again. And don’t you never stand up there with yo’ black face and speak of my daddy or any other white man without the proper respect. You might be of a forgetful mind at yo’ age, but you forgettin’ the wrong thing when you forgettin’ who you are.”

BOOKS BY MILDRED D. TAYLOR

The Friendship

The Gold Cadillac

Let the Circle Be Unbroken

Mississippi Bridge

The Road to Memphis

Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry

Song of the Trees

The Well

In memory of my father, the storyteller

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Author’s Note

“Now don’t y’all go touchin’ nothin’,” Stacey warned as we stepped onto the porch of the Wallace store. Christopher-John, Little Man, and I readily agreed to that. After all, we weren’t even supposed to be up here. “And Cassie,” he added, “don’t you say nothin’.”

“Now, boy, what I’m gonna say?” I cried, indignant that he should single me out.

“Just mind my words, hear? Now come on.” Stacey started for the door, then stepped back as Jeremy Simms,
a blond sad-eyed boy, came out. Looking out from under the big straw hat he was wearing, he glanced somewhat shyly at us, then gave a nod. We took a moment and nodded back. At first I thought Jeremy was going to say something. He looked as if he wanted to, but then he walked on past and went slowly down the steps. We all watched him. He got as far as the corner of the porch and looked back. The boys and I turned and went into the store.

Once inside we stood in the entrance a moment, somewhat hesitant now about being here. At the back counter, two of the storekeepers, Thurston and Dewberry Wallace, were stocking shelves. They glanced over, then paid us no further attention. I didn’t much like them. Mama and Papa didn’t much like them either. They didn’t much like any of the Wallaces and that included Dewberry and Thurston’s brother, Kaleb, and their father, John. They said the Wallaces didn’t treat our folks right and it was best to stay clear of them. Because of that they didn’t come up to this store to shop and we weren’t supposed to be coming up here either.

We all knew that. But today as we had walked the red road toward home, Aunt Callie Jackson, who wasn’t really our aunt but whom everybody called that because she was so old, had hollered to us from her front porch and said she had the headache bad. She said her nephew Joe was gone off somewhere and she had nobody to send to the store for head medicine. We couldn’t say no to her, not to Aunt Callie. So despite Mama’s and Papa’s warnings about this Wallace place, we had taken it upon ourselves to come anyway. Stacey had said they would understand and after a moment’s thought had added that if they didn’t he would take the blame and that had settled it. After all, he was twelve with three years on me, so I made no objection about the thing. Christopher-John and Little Man, younger still, nodded agreement and that was that.

“Now mind what I said,” Stacey warned us again, then headed for the back counter and the Wallaces. Christopher-John, Little Man, and I remained by the front door looking the store over; it was our first time in the place. The store was small, not nearly as large as it had looked from the
outside peeping in. Farm supplies and household and food goods were sparsely displayed on the shelves and counters and the floor space too, while on the walls were plastered posters of a man called Roosevelt. In the center of the store was a potbellied stove, and near it a table and some chairs. But nobody was sitting there. In fact, there were no other customers in the store.

Our eyes roamed over it all with little interest; then we spotted the three large jars of candy on one of the counters. One was filled with lemon drops, another with licorice, and a third with candy canes. Christopher-John, who was seven, round, and had himself a mighty sweet tooth, glanced around at Little Man and me, grinning. Then he walked over to the candy jars for a closer look. There he stood staring at them with a hungry longing even though he knew good and well there would be no candy for him this day. There never was for any of us except at Christmastime. Little Man started to follow him, but then something else caught his eye. Something gleaming and shining. Belt buckles and lockets, cuff links, and tie clips in a glass case.
As soon as Little Man saw them, he forgot about the jars of candy and strutted right over. Little Man loved shiny new things.

Not interested in drooling over candy I knew I couldn’t have, or shiny new things either, I went on to the back and stood with Stacey. Since the Wallaces were taking their own good time about serving us, I busied myself studying a brand-new 1933 catalog that lay open on the counter. Finally, Dewberry asked what we wanted. Stacey was about to tell him, but before he could, Dewberry’s eyes suddenly widened and he slapped the rag he was holding against the counter and hollered, “Get them filthy hands off-a-there!”

Stacey and I turned to see who he was yelling at. So did Christopher-John. Then we saw Little Man. Excited by the lure of all those shiny new things, Little Man had forgotten Stacey’s warning. Standing on tiptoe, he was bracing himself with both hands against the top of the glass counter for a better look inside. Now he glanced around. He found Dewberry’s eyes on him and snatched his hands away. He hid them behind his back.

Dewberry, a full-grown man, stared down at Little Man. Little Man, only six, looked up. “Now I’m gonna hafta clean that glass again,” snapped Dewberry, “seeing you done put them dirty hands-a yours all over it!”

“My hands ain’t dirty,” Little Man calmly informed him. He seemed happy that he could set Dewberry’s mind to rest if that was all that was bothering him. Little Man pulled his hands from behind his back and inspected them. He turned his hands inward. He turned them outward. Then he held them up for Dewberry to see. “They clean!” he said. “They ain’t dirty! They clean!”

Dewberry came from around the corner. “Boy, you disputin’ my word? Just look at ya! Skin’s black as dirt. Could put seeds on ya and have ’em growin’ in no time!”

Thurston Wallace laughed and tossed his brother an ax from one of the shelves. “Best chop them hands off, Dew, they that filthy!”

Little Man’s eyes widened at the sight of the ax. He slapped his hands behind himself again and backed away. Stacey hurried over and put an arm around him. Keeping eyes on the Wallaces, he brought Little Man back to stand with us. Thurston and Dewberry laughed.

We got Aunt Callie’s head medicine and hurried out. As we reached the steps we ran into Mr. Tom Bee carrying a fishing pole and two strings of fish. Mr. Tom Bee was an elderly, toothless man who had a bit of sharecropping land over on the Granger Plantation. But Mr. Tom Bee didn’t do much farming these days. Instead he spent most of his days fishing. Mr. Tom Bee loved to fish. “Well, now,” he said, coming up the steps, “where y’all younguns headed to?”

Stacey nodded toward the crossroads. “Over to Aunt Callie’s, then on home.”

“Y’all hold on up a minute, I walk with ya. Got a mess-a fish for Aunt Callie. Jus’ wants to drop off this here other string and get me some more-a my sardines. I loves fishin’ cat, but I keeps me a taste for sardines!” he laughed.