Stella by Starlight (23 page)

“That makes sense.”

The wind whipped at their backs as they approached the town square. Stella pulled her jacket tight. “Mrs. Spencer, she gave me a typewriter. I think as a thank-you for finding Hazel. Typing is really hard, but . . . this might sound strange, but I've got lots of
stuff in my head, and when I'm hitting them keys, well, I get to thinking about how those newspaper reporters work, and I feel like if I keep at it, maybe I'll get not so bad, maybe I could do something like that.” She paused, feeling silly, a little embarrassed she'd said too much.

“Good for you,” Tony said, but she could see his eyes were on the candy store.

“I've got to get these things for Jojo, then get right back home.”

“Tell you what,” Tony said. “I've got a dime, so I'm going to get something chocolate. I'll meet you back here in five minutes.”

“All right. Tell Mrs. Cooper I said hello.”

At the general store, Stella pulled open the creaky front door. The bell jangled. Immediately she was overwhelmed by the smells of sweet cider vinegar, fresh sawdust, and cinnamon cookies. Her pace slowed. A barrel of pickles stood near the front door. Shelves of goods—buttons, handsaws, sugar, rifles, bullets, scissors, pencils, bolts of cotton cloth, medicine, toys, in no particular order—lined the walls. She could stay in the general store all day, just poking around.

She paused to touch a bolt of bright-blue cotton fabric. She closed her eyes—it was smooth and cool as she slid her fingers across it.
What magic Mama could make of that!

“It's awful pretty, isn't it?” a girl's voice said.

Startled, Stella looked to see Paulette Packard fingering the cloth as well.

“It sure is,” Stella replied, jerking her hand away and quickly remembering her mission.

“I've been wandering around for an hour, just buying little things, while my daddy sees patients. He said he'd have a dress made for me out of any fabric in the store,” Paulette said, “but I told him I didn't need it.” Her voice sounded a little sad, somehow, but Stella had no time to reflect on Paulette's problems—Jojo needed her.

“Well, enjoy your shopping day,” Stella said, making her way to the store clerk as Paulette meandered toward the back of the shop where the homemade ice cream was kept.

“Hello there, young lady. How can I help you today?” Mr. O'Brian asked.

“Uh, my little brother is sick,” Stella said. “He's got
a bad cough, an upset stomach, and a fever.”

Mr. O'Brian looked genuinely concerned. “I'm sorry to hear that. Sounds like a touch of the flu. Some Sal Hepatica might help the young fella,” he said. “It's a good product, but tell your brother to be warned. It fizzes going in, and fizzes coming out!” He laughed at his own joke, but Stella was in no mood for humor.

“Thank you,” she said politely.

“And for the cough, you might try some Vicks VapoRub. It's got a little camphor and little menthol, and probably lots of other things they never tell us about. But it works. And Ayer's Cherry Pectoral is good as well.”

“That's exactly what Mama asked for,” Stella told him. “I won't need the VapoRub, though. Mama uses that stinky camphor oil.” Stella made a face that made Mr. O'Brian laugh. “But I really appreciate your help. How much?”

“Let's see. The cough syrup is eighteen cents, and the medicine is thirty-two cents. That comes to fifty cents.”

Stella fingered the two dimes and a nickel in
her palm. “I've got half that,” she said awkwardly, flushing with embarrassment. She looked around self-consciously, but thankfully, Paulette was nowhere to be seen.

“Well, what do you know!” Mr. O'Brian said cheerfully. “I forgot to tell you—today is half-price day! And you have exactly enough.”

Stella looked up at him. Their eyes met, and then she bowed her head with gratitude. “Thank you, sir,” she said. “Very much.”

“I hope little Jojo feels better,” Mr. O'Brian said gently. He reached under the glass counter, pulled out a cinnamon cookie, and handed it to Stella, still warm. “My wife just took these from the oven. It's chilly today, and you've got a long walk home. This'll help keep you warm.”

Almost in tears at his kindness, Stella thanked him once more and walked out of the store, the brown paper bag in her left hand, and the cookie in her right. She looked across the square for Tony.

“What you doin', gal?” a raspy voice said behind her.

Stella turned uneasily. Sitting on the bench in the front of the store were Max Smitherman and Johnny
Ray Johnson. They had not been there when she went in—she surely would have noticed.

“Girl, he asked you a question,” Johnny Ray said.

“Just . . . just getting medicine for my brother,” Stella replied, looking down at her shoes. Even though she could feel anger creeping up in her, she'd been taught since she was very young to say as little as possible to mean white people.

“Your mama know you spent her money on cookies for yourself?” Mr. Smitherman said, his voice taunting. “Or maybe”—he turned to Johnny Ray—“her daddy too busy votin' and such to be teachin' manners to his daughter.”

“The cookie was a gift,” Stella mumbled, the anger turning to fury.

“I'm thinkin' she don't need that there cookie,” Smitherman said to Johnson.

“I'm thinkin' she musta stole that there cookie,” Johnson said to Smitherman.

“Maybe she went in there and
voted
for the cookie,” Smitherman said with a cruel laugh.

Johnny Ray, with two huge steps, was beside Stella. He snatched the cookie from her hand.

Stella could take no more. “You give that back!” she exclaimed. Even though she would never have put the cookie in her mouth now that he had touched it, she added, “You can't just steal other people's stuff!”

Johnny Ray stared her in the eye and stuffed broken cookie chunks into his mouth. Max Smitherman threw his head back and hooted.

Stella felt like her feet had gone frozen—she couldn't get herself to move away, but from the corner of her eye, she saw Tony running across the square. In seconds he was by Stella's side. “What's going on here?” he asked, grabbing her arm, looking from Stella to the men.

“Nothing. Let's just get out of here—now!” Stella whispered fiercely. They turned and started to walk away. Slowly.

Johnny Ray's voice stopped them.

“Wait just a minute, y'all.”

They did not turn. Stella's heart began to thud.

“What you got in that there paper sack, boy?” Max Smitherman asked.

“Candy, sir,” Tony replied.

“You steal it?” Max asked.

“No, sir.”

“Where you get money to buy candy? Most a y'all can't even buy food.”

Tony repeated evenly, “I didn't steal anything, sir.”

“I don't believe you,” Johnny Ray said. He grabbed Tony by the shoulder and spun him around. “Look at me when I talk to you, boy. I said, I believe you stole that bag of candy.”

“I did not,” Tony insisted.

Johnny Ray Johnson gave Tony a wan smile, then without warning, swung his arm back and punched Tony directly in the stomach. Stella screamed. Tony dropped to the ground, the bag of candy falling from his hand. Milk Duds rolled across the dirt.

Stella looked around frantically for a friendly face. Mr. O'Brian must not have heard her cry out—his door remained closed. Only a few people were in the town square that morning. No one turned to look. No one stopped to help.

“Get my father,” Tony gasped. “Run!” At that, Johnny Ray kicked him in the side. Then Max's work boots connected with Tony's nose. Dark-red blood stained the
dirt as Tony, grunting in pain, pulled his arms over his head to protect it.

Stella didn't hesitate. Mr. Smitherman blocked the door to the general store, so she flew across the square and burst into the candy store.

“Mrs. Cooper! Help!” she cried. “My friend Tony—he's getting beat up by grown men! Help him, please! I gotta get his father!”

Mrs. Cooper peered out the door with a gasp and shooed Stella away. “Run, child! Go get his daddy. I'll help him. I promise. Go!” She ran toward Tony, slamming the door behind her.

Stella ran. Faster than she had ever run on the playground, or with her brother, or in a school race. Stella ran. Her arms pumped in rhythm with her stride, her feet almost touching her backside as she sped back home.

She didn't think about whether she was running faster than Tony could or not, even his illegal runs on the track at the white school. She didn't think about what might be happening to him. She didn't think about whether she should have left him. She just ran. Sweat burned her eyes, but she did not slow her pace
until she reached her house. Dr. Hawkins's wagon was still parked in front. Thank the Lord!

Breathless, she burst in the door. “Tony's hurt—in town! Beat up pretty bad,” she choked out. “He's at the general store!”

Dr. Hawkins looked up in alarm. “Oh God, no! I'll see if I can borrow Mrs. Odom's car,” he said. “Thank you, Stella.” He rushed out of the house as Stella watched, torn between following him back to Tony and making sure Jojo was taken care of.

“How's Jojo?” she finally asked, still breathing hard. She handed Mama the package she had somehow managed to keep safe. She had actually forgotten she even had it.

“He's sleeping—feeling a little better at the moment,” Mama said. “But, oh, young Tony!”

Papa opened the front door, took one look at Stella, and asked, “What the blazes happened?”

As Stella caught her breath, she told her parents everything. “Oh, Papa!” she wailed. “How will he ever forgive me? I just left him lying there on the ground—bleeding!”

Her mother smoothed her hair and tried to still
Stella's heaving shoulders. “You made the only possible choice you could have, considering the situation. You couldn't have done anything there, Stella. But you
got
him help!”

Her father added, “How were you going to fight two adult men who might have turned on you as well?” He grabbed his cap. “I'm going into town to help. Stella, you stay here and keep an eye on Jojo. Georgia, you might want to go be some comfort to Tony's mother. I'm sure Gladys will be full up with fear when she hears this news.”

Mama and Stella looked at each other in agreement.

Before Papa left, he lifted Stella's chin. “Remember, Stella, you did the right thing.”

Stella's eyes filled with tears. “So then why do I feel so bad?”

38

STELLA'S STAR SENTINEL

do I call this an
edton
edition? I guess I can. It is my
newspper
nrspapper
newspaper.

Headline: boy beat up in bumblebee

(I like using all those b's. gotta get better at
capitols
capitals)

Written by: Stella Mills, reporter (I like that)

Anthony
hawkins
Hawkins was attacked yesterday in front of the general Store. Two grown men kicked him and punched him and knocked him to the ground. tony is tall for his age, but hes
onlly
only eleven years old.

They said he
stolethe
stole the candy he
just bought. he told the men he had paid for it, but they beat him up
anwy
anyway.

What kind of man thinks
its
it's fine and dandy to make a boy bleed?

tony's father, dr. leroy hawkins, found him in the back of the general store, bandaged up by mrs. Cooper and mr
Obrian
O'Brian. my papa helpd
thm
them back to ther house . nobody else in town
helpd
helped.

Nothing was
brokn
broken except for tony isnt happy and silly all the time like he used to be.

This is my first real news story with a headline. i wonder if anybody would want to read this. i guess not.
everybdy
Everybody in town already knows.