Glory Be

by Augusta Scattergood

  “I’m sorry he’s leaving, Jesslyn,” I said. We were both real quiet. “Wanna play cards?” I asked.

  “You mean Junk Poker?”

  “I dumped my junk out, same as you. Didn’t think you’d ever want to play again. I’m putting new things in my shoe box, to save forever.” I held up my box and started to untie the purple ribbon. “Wanna play Junk Poker with our new stuff?” Jesslyn could tell by me not being able to look at her that deep down I hoped she’d say no. I didn’t want to bet my new treasures.

  “We’ll play Double Solitaire,” she said. I put down my shoe box.

  Jesslyn laid out her cards on the bumpy bedspread.

  I turned over a queen and looked for a place to play it. “The pool’s not opening again, is it?”

  Jesslyn smoothed out the bedspread, then added a nine of hearts to her cards. “Things won’t ever be like they were before, Glory.”

  I flipped over three more cards but nothing was working on my side. “Miss Bloom says in a few years, everybody’ll be wondering what the fuss was all about. I hope she’s right,” I said.

  Jesslyn put down her last card and beat me, but this time she didn’t brag. “Sleep in here tonight.” She moved a pile of clothes from the extra bed. “In my room, with me,” she said. “We’ll clean up tomorrow. Your new room looks like a tornado went through.”

  The next afternoon, Jesslyn was upstairs listening to Elvis and mooning over Robbie. Daddy was resting after church. Emma was in the kitchen fixing my birthday dinner and wearing the prettiest blue dress ever.

  “The table’s set,” she said. “Everything’s ready for your special day — well, one day late.” She laughed at the face I made over that. “And the cake! Icing’s there for you and Jesslyn to put on together. Chocolate, your favorite.” She held up a big yellow bowl.

  “Thank you, Emma.” I peeled back the waxed paper and stuck my finger in the bowl. She swatted at me, but she smiled, too. “Did you hear? Robbie’s gone,” I said. “And Frankie might as well be.” I licked icing off my finger. “That awful Old Lady Simpson, she didn’t speak to me or Jesslyn at church today.”

  “Don’t you be worrying about folks like Mrs. Simpson — don’t give her the satisfaction. The world doesn’t change by magic, baby. But we’ll get there.” She took off her apron and reached for her fancy hat.

  “Wait, Emma!” I pulled her back close to me at the table. “You didn’t tell me about Mr. Robert Kennedy. Did he come to your church today?”

  “He sure did, Glory honey. The church was filled to overflowing. Everybody was there. It was like nothing I’ve ever known before.” She settled back in her chair. She held up her hand, the one with the slim gold ring that never left her finger and she’d promised to give me when I grew up. “Hold my hand, baby,” she said. “You’re touching the hand that touched Mr. Bobby Kennedy.”

  “Now I’ve come close to somebody as famous as a president.” I threaded my fingers through Emma’s. “Somebody important. That’s one good thing about this summer.”

  “You know, Glory,” she said. “By making your friend Laura glad to be here, you’re somebody important, too.” She held my hand right up against hers. “Don’t you worry. We’ve got powerful praying hands, don’t we?” She winked, then hugged me tight. She smelled like cake with chocolate icing. Like the pine soap she’d scrubbed the saucepans with. I buried my face in her blue dress and took in all her goodness.

  I thought for a minute. “Emma, I figured out what’s got people like Mrs. Simpson and Frankie’s daddy so riled up. It’s not just the new people in town. It’s things changing so fast that’s scaring them. When people get scared, they make up lies. They keep secrets. And they act mean.”

  “You’ve learned a lot, baby.”

  “When this summer started, I never thought I’d know a real secret.”

  “Real secrets mean more than hiding that card game from your daddy. Real secrets can be hurtful. Make people do bad things.” Then she hugged me again. “No matter what, you know Emma loves you,” she whispered into my hair. “See you tomorrow, Glory.”

  Then I remembered. “Emma, Miss Bloom said to invite you to the library tomorrow.”

  Emma drew her breath in real quick and took a step back. “What for?”

  “The thank-you party for everybody who helped out at the July Fourth parade,” I said. “You made a whole lot of food for the picnic. You get invited.”

  Emma nodded her head. “Well, I just might do that, Gloriana June Hemphill. I might just come to a party at the library.”

  “You can bring anybody you want,” I said. “Miss Bloom said to tell you that, too.”

  She patted her hat on and headed toward the front door. “I bet you had something to do with this fine invitation.” When Emma said that, I felt like I’d grown a whole foot taller since turning twelve yesterday.

  I looked right at her and sent a smile as big as Mississippi. “Don’t forget, Emma. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  The next day, I tucked my ironed shirt into my shorts, fastened on my silver charm bracelet, and headed to the library.

  Down near the end of the street — of all people — J.T. and his daddy waited under the library’s big shade tree. A police car pulled up and Mr. Smith leaned in to talk to the officer. J.T. moved closer to the front library door and crossed his arms like a statue guarding the place. I ignored him and marched right up the sidewalk.

  “Hey, Miss B.”

  Miss Bloom waved back at me, and the handful of balloons she was holding almost floated to the clouds. “Come on in, Glory. Lots left to do,” she said, and we hurried inside.

  The library looked downright beautiful! Miss Bloom’s flowers filled the tops of the lowest shelves. A fancy new poster at the checkout desk explained how to sign up for a library card. This afternoon, even the air in the library felt different.

  “Who’s coming to this shindig?” I asked.

  “We invited the mayor,” Miss Bloom answered. “All the library board members, anybody who helped with the July Fourth celebration. That big sign with the balloons out front is welcoming new library patrons.” Then she leaned in so close I could practically read what was written on her dangly book earrings. “Is Emma coming?” she asked quietly.

  I didn’t have time to answer before the front door slammed wide open. In pranced Mrs. Simpson, dressed up in her white gloves and high-heeled shoes, trailing her Esthers behind her. All those ladies wore big hats, disguising their green hair.

  “We’re here to help,” Mrs. Simpson announced. She jerked her head from side to side, probably looking for undesirables she could keep out of the library, like she claimed she’d done for the pool. Miss Bloom handed them a stack of paper napkins and trays of cookies and pointed to the tables in the back of the library.

  “Glory, you and Laura are in charge of the children’s room. Laura’s there waiting for you.”

  When she heard Laura’s name, Mrs. Simpson stopped in her tracks and wheeled around fast. She took off her white gloves, carefully folded them into a pocket of her pink plaid skirt, and said, “I thought only those citizens who’d actually helped, had volunteered for the July Fourth festivities, were invited to our library today.”

  “Since Laura arrived in Hanging Moss, she’s been helping me,” Miss Bloom said. “And this afternoon’s event is also to welcome new library users into our community.”

  “New? As in people who’ve never read a book before? Don’t know why they’d need a library.” Mrs. Simpson smiled and bobbed at her Esthers.

  I looked right at those ladies and said, louder than I should have, “Laura’s mama is coming, too. Right, Miss B.? With all her friends. They all like to read.”

  Mrs. Simpson pranced off with her nose in the air. Miss Bloom looked at me and rolled her eyes before heading back to the checkout desk.

  I wanted to grab Mrs. Simpson’s big straw hat and stomp on it. Before I could do a thing the door opened again, and my worst enemy, Frankfurter Smith
, slipped in. What was he doing here? Frankie hardly ever set foot in the library. Claimed everything he needed was in his very own set of encyclopedias. I didn’t have time to follow him before the front door opened wide again.

  Emma! I raced over to welcome her to my library for the very first time.

  “You came,” I said. Behind her was a boy and a girl, her friend Mr. Miles from the taxi, and another lady I didn’t know. She and Emma were dressed up just like Mrs. Simpson and her friends.

  “So this is the library?” Emma beamed at me. “This is where you spend all your days. Beautiful!” The boy and girl hid behind Emma, peeked around her skirt. “This is my neighbor, Mrs. Williams.” Emma nodded toward her friend in the blue hat. “You know Mr. Miles and his taxicab business. And these two rascals” — she pulled the little boy and girl around in front of her — “they’re Mr. Miles’s children, Regina and Eddie, and they love to read. Just itching to get their hands on books.”

  I waved at Regina and Eddie. “Hi,” I said softly.

  Miss Bloom came around the corner, smiling as big as you please. “Welcome, everyone,” she said. “Glory, take those youngsters right into the children’s room. You and Laura can help them fill out the forms for library cards.”

  Before I could do a thing, the door opened again and in came J.T. Smith. He looked around the library like it was a fancy ballroom he’d mysteriously stumbled into.

  Well, Mrs. Simpson must have heard all the commotion. She marched around the front tables, busting her britches to see what she was missing. When she saw Emma and her friends, she stormed right up to Miss Bloom. “May I speak to you in private?” she said.

  J.T. took one step closer to Miss Bloom, but she stared him down and he backed toward the door. She turned to Mrs. Simpson.

  “Let me introduce you to Mrs. Emma Moore and her friend Mrs. Williams. Those cookies you’re serving probably came from Emma’s oven.” Miss Bloom’s smile reached around to all the ladies.

  You can bet Mrs. Simpson was not about to shake hands with Emma or her colored friend. Didn’t look like she ever wanted to see Miss Bloom again, either. She looked straight at Mrs. Williams in her nice dress and pretty hat with flowers on it, then down at the two children behind them. “If I’d known you were inviting just anybody, Miss Bloom, my friends and I would have stayed home. Or insisted the library close.”

  Emma smiled at Old Lady Simpson, but I could tell it was a fake smile. I bet she wished she had a pie server in her hand to chase her out the library door.

  Muttering about Yankee troublemakers and Negroes, Mrs. Simpson stomped off.

  “Why wouldn’t she speak to you, Emma?” I asked in a quiet voice.

  She looked from me to Miss Bloom and shook her head. “Folks like that think they’re better than anybody else, but she’s not. Mrs. Williams here and me, we know we’re as good as anyone. It doesn’t matter if those ladies never talk to people like me.”

  Miss Bloom’s lips made a hard line. “This is not right. Mrs. Simpson will see. What’s next on her list? Closing schools? Our park?” She stopped to let that sink in.

  Even before Daddy showed up, this day was turning into a mix of sweet and bitter. But when he opened the door, he seemed calm as the afternoon breeze. That is till Mrs. Simpson stopped him cold.

  “Your girls,” she said, pointing a long, skinny finger at our daddy. “It’s a shame they have no mother to teach them to behave. Being raised by a maid is no way to learn what’s acceptable and what’s not. I don’t recall them acting this way until these outsiders moved in and Glory befriended them. And welcoming new people” — she narrowed her eyes at Emma and her friends — “into our library? As far as I’m concerned, this library should be closed, too.”

  “That will never happen, Mrs. Simpson. Never,” Daddy said. “Libraries are about books. Books have no color. And they don’t care who reads them.”

  Miss Bloom moved closer to him and nodded her head so fiercely her earrings were a blur. Mrs. Simpson stormed out of the library and vanished down the sidewalk. When the door opened, I saw J.T., Mr. Smith, and the police car had disappeared, also.

  Emma stepped over to me and reached for my hand. My smile and my heart were both about to crack wide open with happiness.

  Maybe it was the balloons out front or Emma’s famous lemon cookies that caused the library to fill up. But with all those people, I couldn’t find Frankie. I looked behind the big globe next to Miss Bloom’s desk. Nope. Not near the cookies, either. Emma and her friend waved to me from the mystery book section, but I didn’t expect to find him there.

  Frankie had disappeared.

  Laura was still in the children’s room. I plopped myself near her in a big chair. “Whew! This is hard work,” I said. “You seen Frankie? He’s steering clear of me today.”

  “He was here. Explaining what actually happened at the pool break-in,” she said quietly. “He even apologized about stealing my sock.”

  “Frankie apologized?” I sat up in my chair. “I’m really sorry about the lies he spread, Laura.”

  “I think he meant it. I really believe it was mostly his brother’s fault,” Laura said. Then she smiled and handed me a present. “For your birthday,” she said.

  I peeled off the tissue paper. Two books of stamps and two little packages of blue note cards she’d decorated with music notes tumbled out. “We’ll be pen pals,” Laura said. “One for me, one for you.”

  I remembered what I had in my pocket. “So you won’t forget this summer.” We passed the small shell from my Junk Poker box back and forth, sharing the sound of the ocean.

  Laura’s mama walked up about then, with her friends from the clinic. Pretty soon, there was a line at the checkout desk waiting for new library cards. And those very same chairs Miss Bloom had vowed would never be removed to keep anybody from coming here and sitting awhile? They were filled with people reading newspapers and books, including Mr. Miles and Regina and Eddie. Next thing I knew, Miss Bloom was tap-tap-tapping, ringing the little bell at the checkout desk. Emma and Mrs. Williams moved from the mystery books toward Miss Bloom. I stood next to Emma and reached for her hand again.

  “Welcome to the Hanging Moss Free Public Library,” Miss Bloom said. “We are so honored to have you all. Thank you for your hard work on the July Fourth celebration.” She stopped to look around the big room filled up mostly with happiness now. “We’re especially glad to see those of you who are new here. We hope you’ll come often.” Miss B. leaned behind the desk and reached for something. “We have scrapbooks in the library, filled with memories. Today, I’ll add to them.”

  Miss Bloom stepped into the room and started snapping photographs. The instant kind you wave around till they dry and everybody comes into focus. She held one up. “Maybe we’ll send this picture off to our newspaper,” she said. “Show them what this town is really about.” Then Miss Bloom winked.

  It was right at me.

  For the rest of the afternoon, Miss Bloom smiled almost as bright as the big yellow sun shining through the front picture window. Her library was filled up with people who loved books.

  But I still needed to find Frankie.

  I peered around tall shelves into a corner of the children’s room. Who was that? Frankie? Spread out on the floor with Regina and Eddie? The F encyclopedia was wide open.

  He turned the pages real slow. “Fireflies light up at night to attract prey,” Frankie was saying. “They mostly live in warm climates, like Mississippi. You ever seen lightning bugs? Same thing as fireflies. Really they’re beetles, you know.”

  I tiptoed quietly away so I wouldn’t disturb his explaining the life cycle of a lightning bug.

  Laura and her mother said good-bye. Emma and her friends headed home. But Frankie ducked out without saying a word. On the chair where I’d been sitting in the children’s room was an envelope with my name on it.

  I opened it and out fell a fluffy pink flower and a picture postcard of the soldier in front of the
County Courthouse. On the back of the card was a note.

  Dear Glory,

  Please meet me at Fireman’s Park tomorrow. I’m still sorry about all the bad things that happened.

  Your friend (I hope), Frankie Smith

  I squished the pink mimosa flower between my fingers, trying to get the same smell as when we climbed the tree together. But really, I needed the whole tree blooming to get the sweetness out of the blossoms.

  Even if we sat under our special tree again, I wouldn’t tell Frankie what all I learned this summer. But I didn’t hate him. Emma had helped me figure out what hate really and truly was. That wasn’t how I felt toward Frankie.

  By now, most everybody had left. I put things away with Miss Bloom. “Scoot along home, Glory. You’ve been a big help,” she said.

  Outside, the sky was turning a million colors of purple and blue. It smelled like it might rain any minute. I wished I could show this to Laura Lampert. I bet she never sees colors like these in her big-city sky in Ohio.

  Jesslyn waited for me on the sidewalk. We took the long way home, past the Courthouse and park, by the water fountains where I’d first seen my friend Laura do something I never dreamed of doing.

  “Miss Bloom says those Whites Only signs will be gone soon,” I told Jesslyn.

  “Good riddance,” she answered. I nodded and kept walking.

  “Let’s go by the pool,” I said. “Just in case.”

  We both knew that pool was shut up tight. It wasn’t gonna open this summer. Maybe never. But it didn’t hurt to check.

  “Closed,” Jesslyn said, almost without looking at the padlocked gate.

  I leaned close to the pool fence and gazed one last time at the empty lifeguard chairs up high above the blue water. I took a deep breath to remind me of the times I’d sat under that mimosa tree with Frankie.

  “You know what, Jesslyn? When this summer started, I worried that the worst thing would be the pool closing before my birthday and me not having a party. Being twelve is turning out okay after all.” We crossed Main Street together and I said, “We still have that mess of a room to clean up. Before Emma sees it and gets after both of us.”