The truth was killing me. Maybe Lena was going to be Claimed on her sixteenth birthday, but I had been claimed since birth. I had no more control over my fate than she did. Maybe none of us did.
I pulled the car into the parking lot. It was full. There was a crowd of people lined up at the main entrance, waiting to get in. I hadn’t seen this many people in one place since the opening of Gods and Generals, the longest and most boring Civil War movie ever made and one that half my relatives starred in as extras, because they owned their own uniforms.
Link ducked down in the backseat. “I’m gonna slide out here. I’ll see y’all in there.” He pushed open the door and crawled out between the cars. “Good luck.”
Lena’s hands were in her lap, shaking. It killed me to see her this nervous. “You don’t have to go in there. We can turn around and I can drive you right back to your house.”
“No. I’m going in.”
“Why do you want to subject yourself to this? You said it yourself, this is probably just for show.”
“I’m not going to let them think I’m scared to face them. I left my last school, but I’m not going to run away this time.” She took a deep breath.
“It’s not running away.”
“It is to me.”
“Is your uncle coming at least?”
“He can’t.”
“Why the hell not?” She was all alone in this, even though I was standing right next to her.
“It’s too early. I didn’t even tell him.”
“Too early? What is that about, anyway? Is he locked up in his crypt or something?”
“More like, or something.”
It wasn’t worth trying to talk about now. She was going to have enough to deal with in a few minutes.
We walked toward the building. It started to rain. I looked at her.
Believe me, I’m trying. If I let go, it would be a tornado.
People were staring, even pointing, not that I was surprised. So much for common decency. I looked around, half expecting to see Boo Radley sitting by the door, but tonight, he was nowhere in sight.
We entered the gym from the side, coincidentally—the Visitor’s entrance, Link’s idea, which turned out to be a good one. Because once we got inside, I realized people weren’t standing out front waiting to get in, they were just hoping to hear the meeting. Inside, it was standing room only.
It looked like a pathetic version of a grand jury hearing from an episode of one of those courtroom dramas on TV. There was a big plastic folding table in the front of the room, and a few teachers—Mr.
Lee of course, sporting a red bow tie and his own backwoods brand of pre-judice; Principal Harper; and a couple of people who must have been members of the School Board—sitting in a row at the tables.
They all looked old and annoyed, like they wished they could be at home watching QVC or religious programming.
The bleachers were filled with Gatlin’s finest. Mrs. Lincoln and her DAR lynch mob were taking up the first three rows, with the members of the Sisters of the Confederacy, the First Methodist Choir, and the Historical Society taking up the next few. Right behind them were the Jackson Angels—also known as, the girls who wanted to be Emily and Savannah, and the guys who wanted to get into Emily’s and Savannah’s pants—sporting their freshly screened Guardian tees. The front of the shirts had a picture of an angel that looked suspiciously like Emily Asher, with her huge white angel wings spread wide open, wearing what else—a Jackson High Wildcats T-shirt. On the back, there was simply a pair of white wings designed to look like they were sprouting right out of the person’s back, and the Angels’ battle cry, “We’ll Be Watching You.”
Emily was sitting next to Mrs. Asher, her leg and its huge cast propped up on one of the orange cafeteria chairs. Mrs. Lincoln narrowed her eyes when she saw us, and Mrs. Asher put her arm around Emily protectively, as if one of us might run over there and beat her with a club like a defenseless baby seal pup. I saw Emily slip her phone out of her tiny silver bag, text-ready. Soon, her fingers would be flying. Our school gym was probably the epicenter of local gossip for four counties tonight.
Amma was sitting a few rows back, fiddling with the charm around her neck. Hopefully, it would make Mrs. Lincoln grow the horns she’d been so artfully hiding all these years. Of course, my dad wasn’t there, but the Sisters were sitting next to Thelma, across the aisle from Amma. Things must have been worse than I thought. The Sisters hadn’t been out of the house this late since 1980, when Aunt Grace ate too much spicy Hoppin’ John and thought she was having a heart attack. Aunt Mercy caught my eye and waved her handkerchief.
I walked Lena to the seat in the front of the room obviously reserved for her. It was right in front of the firing squad, dead center.
It’s going to be okay.
Promise?
I could hear the rain pounding on the roof outside.
I promise this doesn’t matter. I promise these people are idiots. I promise nothing they say will ever change the way I feel about you.
I’ll take that as a no.