Lunch service was over. There were only three customers in the café—two young ladies sipping coffee and an old woman chewing on a cheese sandwich.
I’d hoped Miss Fanny was on duty today, but it was another waitress who approached us. “Can’tcha read?” she said, poking her thumb at a brand-new sign posted above the cash register:
WHITES ONLY
“I’m white,” I said.
Without a pause the waitress said, “You got a nigger with you. Now go on, get outta here.”
“Where’s Miss Fanny?” I said.
“She don’t work here no more,” the woman said. “ ’Cause of you.”
We turned to the door. I felt something hit my sleeve and I glanced down. It was a gob of spit, mixed with what looked like cheese. It could only have come from the little old lady.
When we stepped out the door our audience had swelled to a couple of dozen angry people.
They gawked at us. They yelled. They mocked.
“Kiss me,” I whispered to Moody.
She looked up at me as if I were insane, but she didn’t say no.
I leaned down and brought my lips to hers.
A cry of pain ran through the crowd.
A woman’s voice: “Look, he got what he wanted—a nigger girl to take to his bed.”
A man’s voice from behind me shouted, “Y’all goin’ to hell and burn for all time!”
“Niggers! You’re both niggers!”
“You make me sick in my gut!”
“Get out of here! Just get out!”
I whispered, “You ready to run?”
Moody nodded.
And we ran, and ran, and ran.
Chapter 130
WE WERE HALFWAY to the Quarters before the most persistent of our pursuers gave up. We stopped to catch our breath, but I kept an eye out, in case anyone was still following.
As it dawned on me what we had done, I realized that I was—well, I was delighted. Who would have thought two people holding hands could make so many wrong-minded people so very unhappy? We had put the citizens of Eudora in an uproar, and that realization warmed my heart.
I had abandoned my bicycle downtown. Maybe the mob had strung it up in a noose by now.
As Moody and I walked the muddy boards that passed for a sidewalk, folks began coming out of their houses to have a look at us. As fast as we’d run, news of our public display seemed to have preceded us.
“Y’all damn crazy,” said one old lady.
“Naw, they in love,” said a young man beside her.
“Well, hell, if that ain’t crazy, I don’t know what is!”