Tru and Nelle Page 12

  “I don’t think you should invite Black John and Little Bit, Truman,” said Big Boy. “Some people might have a problem being at a party with, you know . . . black people.”

  “Oh, nonsense! We’ll dress ’em up so good, no one will even know it’s them! Besides, we have to invite Edison. He can do his choo-choo imitation and we can ride his train from game to game. He’ll be the frosting on the cake!” said Truman.

  Nelle and Big Boy shrugged. It was Truman’s party and he could do whatever he wanted.

  35

  Inviting the Question

  Truman used all his best storytelling techniques to convince Jenny to host the party. She would be the talk of the town, and inviting the most important people in the county would be good for business. Heaven knows, she needed the business, so, for once, she and Truman were on the same page.

  Since nothing special ever happened in Monroeville, word quickly spread about Truman’s last hurrah. Everyone at school wanted an invite, and even the bully Boss pretended to be nice (by not threatening to knock the steam out of him).

  Down at Jenny’s shop, people she hadn’t seen in months turned up, hinting that they weren’t doing anything special on Friday night. Of course, both Truman and Jenny enjoyed being popular and took a certain joy in turning down those who’d been particularly cruel to them in the past. Or if not turning them down, at least making them work for an invitation. When Billy Eugene and the boys offered to help, Truman took the high road, putting them to work setting up. He took a certain glee in bossing them around for once.

  Sometimes, all it takes to ruin a party is one bad apple. Boss Henderson was told that he wasn’t invited, so he vowed revenge. He overheard Edison happily telling someone down at Mudtown that he had been invited to Truman’s party, and he spread the word that some black kids had been invited to the party over him. When he told his daddy, Catfish, the gossip really got going. And when small-town people start to talk, the next thing you know, the sheriff shows up on your front doorstep.

  Whenever Queenie barked, trouble was sure to follow. Truman and Nelle heard Queenie raising a ruckus and peeked out from their treehouse just in time to see the sheriff’s patrol car pull up. They both remembered their last encounter with him. Truman took out the guest list, which was filled with more than a hundred names, some crossed out. “Did we forget to invite the sheriff?” he asked.

  The sheriff growled at Queenie, who turned and hid behind a japonica bush. Miss Jenny came down from the porch wearing a pink cotton dress. It was her day off, and she did not like dealing with unpleasantries on her day off. The sheriff visibly stiffened as she approached.

  “Morning, Sheriff. What brings you out today?”

  The sheriff removed his hat. “Morning, Miss Jenny.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve heard rumors—rumors I don’t necessarily believe, but you know how people are when they get to talking.”

  “Continue,” she said, crossing her arms.

  “Well . . . folks say little Truman has plans to show the people of this fine town a thing or two before he heads up north.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, ma’am, such as . . . inviting coloreds to y’alls party and having them dress up in costume so nobody will be able to tell they’re colored until the party’s over—and by then it’ll be too late.”

  Jenny could hear Truman giggling in the distance, but she ignored him. “Too late for what?” she said sternly.

  Sheriff put his hat back on. “Thing is, this is the kind of situation that gets the Klan all hot and bothered. They’re planning a rally on the night of your party. They even told Little Bit to leave the neighborhood and stay in Mudtown this weekend.”

  Jenny had heard enough. She stepped right up to the sheriff’s face. “You know as well as I do the Klan is just stirring up trouble because they have nothing better to do. Membership is down and they haven’t had anything to protest for a while, so why not pick on some little boy’s going-away party? Of all the nerve! You tell them if they want to threaten me and my family, they should do it in person and not send their messenger boy!”

  The sheriff did not appreciate being lectured by a woman.

  “Now, Miss Jenny, I’ve told them not to interrupt your party, but it might be out of my hands—”

  Jenny spun on her heel and headed back in. “Just do your job, Sheriff, or I won’t be contributing anything to your next campaign!”

  The door slammed. The sheriff shook his head and slowly got back in his car. Before he shut the door, he gazed up at the treehouse for a good five seconds, until Queenie came out from behind the bush and started barking again. He revved his engine and drove away.

  “Is the coast clear?” asked Truman.

  Nelle was impressed. “Wow, I’ve never seen Miss Jenny so angry,” she whispered. “She must really care about you.”

  Truman nodded. He was impressed too.

  Nelle watched the patrol car turn the corner past the Boulars’ house. Her eyes came to rest on Sonny’s home. It seemed dark and forbidding even though it was broad daylight.

  Nobody had seen or heard from Sonny since that day in the courthouse almost a year ago. It was like he was a ghost who’d just faded from memory.

  “I was thinking . . .” she said.

  “What about?”

  “About . . . Sonny,” she said.

  Truman grew quiet. He still felt bad about what had happened to him.

  “Maybe we should invite him to the party too?” she asked.

  Truman almost choked. “I don’t think his pa will allow him out of the house to come to a party!”

  Nelle shrugged. “He might . . . if we invited his sister too,” she said slyly. Sally Boular was a well-liked normal girl who suffered under her brother’s reputation.

  “Well . . . she’s nice and all. Maybe I wouldn’t mind if she came,” said Truman. “But you and I know that just having Sonny Boular show up will scare the pants off everyone.”

  Nelle smiled. “Well, it is a Halloween party—”

  A grin slowly spread across Truman’s face. “Oooh . . . I hadn’t thought of that! It’d be like having a real ghost at our Halloween party. Good idea, Nelle.”

  “That’s not exactly what I meant, Truman.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s still good . . .” he said, rubbing his chin.

  Nelle continued. “I think he’s lonely, trapped in that house. He deserves to get out now and then. ’Specially after what we done.”

  Truman nodded. “You’re right. We’ll invite the Boulars.” It would be a perfect way to cap off the Halloween party of the century.

  36

  All Hallows’ Eve

  Halloween. The night of the party was finally upon them. Sook spent all day preparing molasses candy, little cakes, and punch for everyone. It was the only way to keep her from crying at Truman’s farewell. Truman made sure to spend as much time as he could helping her out, just so she wouldn’t feel so sad. He helped sift and measure, roll and pour. He kept the fire stoked in Ol’ Buckeye and tasted every cake and candy to make sure it was up to her standards.

  Stirring the punch for the adults, Sook said, “Tru, honey, never forget how much you mean to me. Just you remember, Sook loves you more than anybody.”

  He would not forget.

  Cousin Bud, as promised, built a ramp off the back porch so the kids could ride the Tri-Motor plane down it. Anything for Truman. Jenny spent considerable time helping Black John White set up lights all around the backyard. Even dreaded Cousin Callie got into the spirit of things and traveled by bus all the way to Montgomery to pick up a special order of bobbing apples that came in from Washington.

  Nelle told Truman that, unfortunately, the rest of her family would not be attending. Her sisters were away in Montgomery for a college sorority party, and A.C. would stay home, keeping her mother company, as she was still too fragile for such a large event. Truman understood and promised to save them some cake.

  Truman, Nelle, and Bi
g Boy spent all day planning the games for the party. One of their favorites involved three boxes they’d made that each had two holes on one side. People had to stick their hands in and guess what was in there. One box had a squirming green tortoise, another had a pile of mashed-up bananas and oranges. The final one held a duster made of turkey-wing feathers. Other games included Pin the Tail on the Donkey, which Truman had decided would be better with a real donkey. Bud agreed to loan them his donkey, but only if a pin wasn’t used.

  Nelle and Big Boy painted their faces and wore old oversize clothes so they looked like hoboes. Truman dressed as Fu Manchu, with a long mustache and ponytail made out of hair from one of Bud’s ponies. Sook dressed Queenie up in a circus costume that she’d made herself. She couldn’t stop laughing at how cute that dog was.

  Dusk settled in and the fireflies soon sprinkled the backyard with stardust. It was an unusually warm night for late October. People began to arrive, and Truman and Jenny stood at the front door to greet them. He bowed with his hands pressed together the way he imagined Fu Manchu would, then he checked off people’s names, made approving comments on their costumes, and rated them on a clipboard. He liked that Mr. Barnett showed up dressed as a pirate (he had a wooden leg). He was amused when Billy Eugene and his pals showed up dressed as a chain gang. Jenny beamed with pride as the most important members of town all showed up. There were over a hundred people on the list, and it looked like they were all coming.

  There were ghosts and devils, knights and dragons, criminals and cowboys, and even a nun (Cousin Callie). The adults listened to Al Jolson records on Jenny’s Victrola player, something few people had ever seen or heard before. The children ran wild in the backyard, bobbing for apples or sticking their hands into the mystery boxes or dancing to Little Bit’s accordion music (she was dressed as a ghost too). Black John White was having himself a time, jumping out from behind a tree and scaring the kids, then telling them jokes to unscare them. Edison dressed up as a train conductor and shuttled kids from game to game. Billy Eugene behaved. Nelle and Big Boy took turns riding Truman’s plane down the ramp, over and over again. Truman seemed pleased.

  The party was a big success. Truman stood on the back porch on that warm October night marveling at the crowds of masked kids and adults. Even with the costumes, he knew who everyone was. The only kids that appeared to be missing were the Boulars.

  So lovely was the party, no one seemed to notice the line of cars that slowly passed by the house and parked down the street at the schoolyard. Men in white robes got out and put hoods over their heads. These were not costumes but the real deal. Torches were passed around and lit. Then they headed slowly toward Truman’s party.

  Everyone was having a swell time—until someone screamed.

  37

  Uninvited Guests

  “Help, please help! The Klan’s got Sonny and they’re going to hang him!” It was Sonny’s sister Sally dressed as a princess and crying her eyes out. She collapsed into Jenny’s arms in the living room. “We were on our way over in our costumes but Sonny was lagging behind. When they spotted us, they thought he was following me. They yelled, ‘There’s one now!’ and chased him down. I got scared and ran, but Sonny tripped and fell in front of Mr. Lee’s house, and that’s where they grabbed him!”

  Jenny held the poor girl. “Where’s the sheriff?” she demanded. No one knew.

  All the adults gathered around the front door or stared out the window at the spectacle of a group of twenty or so men covered in white robes and hoods. “Maybe they’re just dressing up for the party?” said someone feebly.

  Queenie was running around the yard in circles, barking and acting hysterical. Truman, Nelle, Big Boy, and all the children heard the ruckus and ran to the stone wall to see what was going on. They peered over the top and saw a group of men with torches leaning over something in the road in front of Nelle’s house. To Truman, it looked like a bunch of ghosts with dunce hats milling about.

  “I’d best go tell A.C. what’s going on,” said Nelle, concerned. She quickly scrambled over the top and the boys followed. “This looks like another case, Sherlock,” whispered Big Boy.

  But Truman knew it wasn’t. “Hush, Big Boy. Even Sherlock might not be able to get out of this mess . . .”

  They snuck in through Nelle’s back door. “A.C.?” Nelle called out.

  There was no answer. The house was dark except for a single light coming from her parents’ room.

  “A.C.?” She peeked in, but the bedroom was empty. “Where are they?”

  “Over here,” whispered Big Boy.

  Nelle and Truman found A.C. in the living room, which was lit only by the torch light coming from the street. He stood, silhouetted in the frame of the open front door, dressed in his undershirt and pajama bottoms.

  “A.C.? Where’s Mama?” asked Nelle.

  “Hiding” was all he said. He motioned for her to stay put, then walked slowly down the front steps toward the mob, careful not to startle anybody.

  “A.C.!” Nelle hissed.

  Her daddy peered over his shoulder and saw the kids in their costumes. “This isn’t the time for fun and games, children. Let me take care of it.”

  A.C. made his way across the front yard to the fence. It was deadly quiet except for the sounds of the torches burning and the whimpering of a boy.

  He waded into the middle of the costumed mob and not a word was spoken. They simply stepped aside.

  Nelle couldn’t stand it. She followed him out into the street. Truman fretted; he still hated himself for the last time he’d abandoned her.

  “Oh, shoot. Stay here, Big Boy. No sense in all of us getting killed.”

  He made his way across the front yard, his Fu Manchu hair floating behind him. He caught up to Nelle and wrapped his hand around hers. “I’m coming too,” he whispered.

  She nodded and they both snuck up behind A.C.

  Some of the men stared at these bizarrely costumed kids and seemed unsure what was happening. Someone shoved Truman as he passed. He stumbled and looked up to see a gigantic hooded person who sniped, “Nice party, maggot.”

  Even with the hood, Truman knew it was Boss.

  What caught his attention more, though, was the man dressed in green robes blocking their way: the Grand Dragon.

  The Grand Dragon stood his ground, his arms crossed. The man’s eyes glared at A.C. from deep within his hood. Behind him, on the street, was a messy pile of boxes, all painted silver. Truman noticed the boxes moved, and he spotted two round holes cut out in the box closest to them. He heard a whimper coming from inside it.

  Truman and Nelle saw the cardboard cubes were wired together to form a costume: a childlike robot. The robot was struggling to get up but couldn’t because the boxes made his arms and legs too stiff to bend.

  “Now, A.C., this don’t concern you,” said the Grand Dragon. “You’re a respected man ’round these parts; let’s keep it that way.”

  “Step aside, Mr. Henderson,” said A.C.

  “It’s Catfish,” whispered Nelle to Truman.

  The Dragon flinched. “This is one of those Negros that boy invited to his party. Do you really want them mingling with your children?”

  Truman suddenly realized he had gone too far. To do things differently was one thing. To upset the order of Monroeville was another.

  “I do,” said Nelle as she stepped in front of A.C.

  Truman sighed and also stepped up. “Me too,” he said, holding tightly to Nelle’s hand. “Plus, it’s my party.”

  “Our party,” said Big Boy behind them.

  Queenie growled at the Grand Dragon from behind Big Boy.

  The Grand Dragon glared back at all of them.

  “You heard the children,” A.C. said.

  For a tense moment, they just locked eyes. Then, without a word, A.C. calmly stepped around the Grand Dragon and reached down to offer a hand to the robot. One of the robot’s arms reached up to meet his hand. It was painted black. />
  “Help me!” the robot whimpered.

  A.C. grabbed one arm and Nelle and Truman quickly grabbed the other, and they helped the robot to its feet. A.C. removed the tape and wire that held the cardboard head on.

  He finally yanked it off, and there was Sonny Boular, white as a ghost, tears streaming down his face.

  38

  A Mystery Solved

  “I didn’t mean nobody no harm,” he cried. “I just wanted to come to the party like everyone else.”

  A.C. stared at the torches and the men in their fearsome robes and hoods. “See what you’ve done? You’ve scared this boy half to death—all because you let your ignorance blind you. What happens at Truman’s party is none of your concern. You all should be ashamed of yourselves.”

  The adults from the party had streamed out of the house and now stood behind A.C. in a row of solid support. They were the most important folks in the county—the judge, the bank president, the sawmill owner, the county commissioner, the mayor, and, of course, Jenny, all glaring at the Klan members. Behind them, Edison, Little Bit, and Black John White stood in silence.

  The men in robes shuffled their feet until one of them said, “Well, shoot. I’m going home.”

  The other members mumbled and whispered to one another. One by one, they put their torches out in the dirt and wandered off into the darkness, leaving only the Grand Dragon and Boss behind. Finally, even Catfish threw up his hands. “God will judge you, A.C.,” he said, grabbing Boss and pulling him away.

  “I’m prepared for that, Mr. Henderson. Are you?” said A.C. as he watched them slink off.

  Right before getting into his dad’s car, Boss got in the last word, which Truman could barely hear. “I’ll get you later, runt,” he said.