Free With the Might of Angels by Andrea Davis Pinkney

white fur, not just white brows like most raccoons.
    “She’s one-of-a-kind,” Daddy said. “Like you, Dawnie.”
    Raccoons are plenty in these parts of Virginia, but there was no
plenty
about this raccoon. I’ve seen none other like her.
    I named her right away, on account of how she moved. “Nice to meet you, Waddle.”
    Daddy and I slowed our walk. Then Daddy stopped. It was full-light then. Morning.
    Night crickets had quit singing, but the bullfinches had joined up with the whip-poor-wills, and there was a contest between them for who could out-flute the other.
    Daddy said, “This is where I say good-bye, Dawnie.”
    We were still four blocks from the school building. I wasn’t scared to walk the rest by myself, just sorry to lose the warmth of Daddy’s hand as he let go.
    “Head on now, Dawnie,” he said. “Show everybody how smart you are.”
    I pulled my lunch tin close. There was pride in Daddy’s eyes, but he looked uncertain, too. He waited for me to reach Elber Street, one block closer to Prettyman, then he waved good-bye.
    It was when I got to the corner that I saw parked police cars, with their siren lights flashing. There were people everywhere, gathered in a snarl, waiting. I saw boys and girls, and grown-ups — and the sheriff. They stood behind barricades.
    When I read a sign that said MOTHERS AGAINST INTEGRATION , I knew they were waiting for me. Not once did I want to turn back. I had waited too long for this day. The clock on Prettyman’s front said it was half past seven. School started at a quarter to eight. I was hard-pressed on how to get into school, but determined, too. I figured if I went around to the back entrance where Prettyman’s field meets up with the gymnasium door, I could get inside that way. But my figuring wasn’t fast enough. “There she is!” somebody shouted.
    That’s when the trouble started. The girl from Millerton’s Department Store — the one with the peach-colored hair — came onto Prettyman’s front steps with the school bell in her hand. She clangedthe bell to signal the day’s start. Something about the power of that bell called me forward. I was not going to be late on my first day.
    I moved slowly along the street, then turned onto Prettyman’s front walk, where the crowd pushed at the barricades. Even then I wasn’t too scared because I was so eager to get inside.
    The sheriff nodded toward one of the policemen, and four of them came up on all sides. They were carrying long guns! I wasn’t sure if they were there to protect me or stop me. The police kept the people behind the barricades, pressing them back when they shoved to get at me. But even with all their force, the police could not keep those people quiet.
    The Panic Monster came quick,
shook me hard.
    The protesters’ mouths were twisted and angry. Their faces looked liked tightly crumpled balls of paper. And, oh, were their tongues ever sharp!
    “There goes the monkey!” someone hollered.
    “Kill that chiggeroo!” somebody else yelled.
    The Panic Monster was holding so tightly.
    Shaboodle-shake-shake-shake-shake.
    I tried to put my ears on the sound of the school bell, but it was hard not to hear the hatred in the people’s voices. Bobby Hatch and his brothershad shoved to the front of the barricades. The very worst part of it — the part that frightened me most — was that they shouted mean things about Goober in front of all the other people.
    “And she’s got a brother, too. But he’s more stupid than any monkey.”
    Shabooooodle-shaaaake-shaaaake-shaaaake-shaaaake.
    In the crowd I saw a small girl, a child much littler than me. Her face looked kind. She was holding out a flower and a note. Her mama encouraged her to give me both of them. I smiled. So did she. But as she set the note in my hand, she spit on my new shoes. And the note wasn’t a note at all. The little girl had drawn a picture. It was scribbly, but there was no mistaking its meaning. It was a picture of me