“Yeah. So?”
“One day, a week or so ago, a bunch of black boys wearing Black Panther T-shirts break into the pool while they there. They go up to this fella, the lifeguard, and ask for money. All the lifeguard got on him is ten dollars. This group, they ain’t happy. They talk about killing this fella right in front of all the kids in the pool. The kids, they all jump out, yelling and screaming, thinking these young men gone kill them, too. Finally, the young men decide there ain’t nothing else for them there, so they go to leave. Right then Rosie shows up to pick up her grandson. She saw the group leaving. Didn’t think nothing of it at the time, not until later, when her grandson told her what happened.”
There was fear in her mother’s eyes as she spoke.
“So what’s this got to do with anything except we got some angry brothers running around scaring little kids at a pool?”
Queenie sighed. “Because Rosie, she tell me, she could have sworn one of the young men she saw leaving the pool that day was Purnell.”
Doll sat back. Now she, too, had a worried look on her face.
A few minutes later Birdelia came in the back door in her school marching uniform made of stretchy white satiny material, with silver sequins sewn all over it. She had on short white marching boots with tassels and was holding a baton.
“Somebody die?” she asked.
“No, baby,” Doll said.
“Then why you all so quiet?”
Queenie’s mood brightened at the sight of Birdelia. “Come on over here and give your grandma some sugar.”
Birdelia propped the baton by the back door and went over and gave her grandmother a kiss. “What’s going on, Mee-maw? Why you so sad?”
“She ain’t sad. She just being Queenie. Don’t your mama deserve some sugar, too?”
Birdelia gave Doll a kiss and sat down at the table. “Band practice done tuckered me out.”
Queenie pushed herself away from the table. “I know what that means—you hungry. You always hungry. Growing like a weed. You as tall as your mother, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you two were sisters you look so much alike, except for the way you wear your hair up in that braided ponytail all the time.”
Ibby came into the kitchen, carrying a magazine. “Where’s Fannie?”
“I don’t know, and she don’t say.” Queenie placed a bowl of clabber in front of Birdelia.
Ibby sat down at the table. “She took me out to the cemetery the other day. She evidently goes there a lot.”
“That so? Maybe she gone have her own little parade out at the cemetery.”
“What do you mean?” Ibby asked.
“Miss Fannie, she made some sort of sign this morning and taped it to a broom handle,” Doll said. “That’s what Mama’s going on about.”
“Why?” Ibby asked.
“You been here four years now, and you still ask why Fannie does what she does?” Birdelia interjected.
“Miss Ibby, you got Miss Winnie’s party in a few days. What kind of dress you want me to make?” Doll asked.
“I’ve got one all picked out.” Ibby flipped the magazine on the table to a page she’d earmarked. “One like this.”
Doll picked up the magazine and shook her head. “You want a Nehru-collared dress? That paisley print won’t do, Miss Ibby—not dressy enough.”
“What about if we take off the sleeves and make it in another fabric?” Ibby suggested.
“Okay. If that’s what you want.” Doll tore the page from the magazine and tucked it into the pocket of her uniform. “Got some nice blue silk left over from one of Fannie’s dresses ought to do just fine.”
Birdelia pushed the empty bowl away and stood up. “I’m going.”
“Where you off to?” Doll asked. “Could use your help.”
“Miss Fannie asked me to pick her up some lipstick from the pharmacy.”
“That so?” Queenie put her hands on her hips.
“Yes’m, she sure did.”
“When she do that,” Doll said, eyeing Birdelia, “when you ain’t even been around all morning?”
“She asked me yesterday, before we left to go home. I told her I’d pick it up on my way back from marching practice this morning. I plumb forgot.”
“Miss Ibby, why don’t you go along with Birdelia? A little fresh air do you some good,” Queenie said as she tried to shoo the girls out the back door.
“You don’t mind, do you, Birdelia?” Ibby asked.
Birdelia hesitated a moment before waving her hand. “Come on.”
As soon as they left, Queenie sat down at the table and picked up the paper again. After a few moments, she lowered it and looked over at Doll.
“Mama, you ain’t gone to start that again, are you?”
“No, baby, I just thought of something.”
“What?”
“You don’t think Miss Fannie is driving around looking for Miss Vidrine, do you?”
Doll sat back in her chair and made wide eyes. “I hope not. What she think she gone do if she finds her?”
Queenie shook her head. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Chapter Twenty-Six