Lies We Tell Ourselves: Shortlisted for the 2016 Carnegie Medal

Slowly, Yvonne uncurls from her crouch. She lifts her head and looks around the hall. When she sees we really are alone she lets me help her up. Dust and dirt are all over her clothes, and her face is streaked with tears. She winces when she puts her weight on her right leg.

I reach out a hand to help her up. That’s when I notice I’m shaking harder than she is.

What if the teacher hadn’t gotten there when she did? Yvonne could’ve really been hurt. Or Chuck could’ve.

It could have been any of us.

I look around for the others. Paulie is standing against the lockers, pressing his fist into his forehead. Ennis is here, too, talking with Chuck and the teacher. Chuck looks angry. The teacher is nodding at Ennis, who’s saying something in a low, serious voice.

“All right,” Ennis says to all of us after a minute. “We’ve got to go fast. The others are waiting for us by the side exit at the bottom of the stairs.”

“Are they safe?” I ask.

“They were when I left them.”

That doesn’t make me feel better.

Yvonne’s knee is worse than she’d thought, so we have to move slowly. I want to run ahead to see Ruth, but that wouldn’t be right. I’m the only other girl here, so I have to let Yvonne lean on me as we make our way toward the stairs.

At least Ruth isn’t alone. I’ll see her soon. As soon as I possibly can.

“What did the teacher say?” I ask Chuck as we navigate the stairwell. Yvonne flinches on every step.

“She wanted to call a doctor to come look at Yvonne. Ennis talked her out of it. He said she’d be safer if we could get her to Mrs. Mullins’s first.”

I think Ennis is right, but from the set of Chuck’s jaw I can tell he disagrees.

When we finally get to the side exit Ruth is waiting for us just inside the door with the other freshmen and sophomores. One of the younger girls is crying. Ruth has her arm around her.

I want to gather Ruth into my arms and never let go. Instead I motion for both girls to walk with me and Yvonne.

“That’s enough of that, now,” I tell the crying girl. “We have to move.”

Ruth glares at me. I ignore her.

The four of us will be the first ones outside. Through the narrow window we can see the crowd gathered around the door, waiting for us. We have no choice but to walk right into the middle of it.

“Can you get them to the curb?” Ennis whispers to me. His forehead is creased, but we both know it’s better this way. The boys should be at the back of the crowd this time, where the rowdiest white people will be. “The cars are waiting. Get in the first one. It’s Mr. Stern driving.”

I nod. “What about everyone else?”

“We’ll be right behind you.”

He says something more, but I can’t make out the words. As soon as we step outside the doors the noise from the crowd is deafening.

I can’t see any faces now, or hear any voices. It’s all a blur of white and hate.

I want to run, but the crowd would just run after us. As soon as we’re off school property, they’d catch us. I don’t want to think about what would happen then.

So I walk as fast as I can, and I make the others do the same, even though Yvonne is groaning from the pain in her knee. She and I are in front, with Ruth and the other girl behind us. I can see Mr. Stern’s car up ahead. Ennis was right—it’s probably the safest of the NAACP cars for us to take. No one will think we’re aiming to get into a car with a white man.

The white people are swarming us from all sides now. It’s as bad as it was this morning.

No. It’s worse. This morning the white people just looked furious. Now they look like killers.

“Get the niggers!” A chant starts up. “Get the niggers! Get the niggers! Get them!”

They’re right up in our faces. After a full day of this their glares and shouts aren’t shocking anymore. I’m used to the feeling of my heart throbbing in my chest, my eyes sharpening, my shoulders quaking with fear.

Police officers line the curb. I don’t expect any more help from them than I did this morning.

I glance over my shoulder to see the other girls and almost trip, catching myself at the very last second.

This won’t work. I can’t walk in front of them and make sure they’re safe at the same time.

Ruth catches my eye and nods. It feels like a terrible mistake, but I move behind the others and let Ruth take the lead.

This is the most frightened I’ve been for her all day, but there’s nothing I can do. Ruth marches through the crowd, her head high, her gaze straight ahead. The white people scream at her but they move aside, like she’s Moses parting the waters.

This time, when someone spits on her hand, she ignores it and keeps on walking.

It makes me want to cry. Instead I keep my eyes dry and fixed, letting Ruth lead us.

They’re still shouting. I sing to myself in my head to drown out their words. An old hymn. The old ones are always the best.

Rock of Ages,

cleft for me,

let me hide

myself in thee.

Something sails over Yvonne’s head. A ball of paper with something heavy wrapped inside.

I don’t say anything. I don’t think she noticed. I can’t tell whether the white boy who threw it was only trying to scare us or if he just has bad aim.

The chant has changed now, back to the familiar “Two, four, six, eight, we don’t wanna integrate.” We’re almost at the curb. Mr. Stern is waiting in the car with his engine on.

It’s over. Soon we’ll be out of this place. We’ve survived. This day is finally at an end.

Ruth opens the back door and climbs inside, moving over so Yvonne and the other girl can slide in. I get in the front seat with Mr. Stern.

With the windows rolled up we can barely hear the chants. It really is over. Mr. Stern steps on the gas.

But just as he’s turning the wheel, the back door on the far side—Ruth’s side—jerks open. A grown white man with a wide chest and huge hands is standing by the side of the car, holding on tight to the door frame and looking right at Ruth.

“Get out of the car, niggers, before we drag you out,” the man’s voice booms. “You, too, you nigger-loving Jew.”