Free Black Sunday by Thomas Harris Page A

horrible feelings that he does not understand. He cannot yet identify rage and self-loathing. He has a constant picture of himself as a prissy little boy in short pants, and he hates it. Sometimes he watches the other eight-year-olds playing cowboys in the shrubbery. On a few occasions he has tried to play, yelling "bang bang" and pointing his finger. He feels silly doing it. The others can tell he is not really a cowboy, does not believe in the game.
    He wanders over to his classmates, the 11-and 12-year-olds. They are choosing sides to play football. He stands in the group and waits. It is not too bad to be chosen last, as long as you are chosen. He is alone between the two sides. He is not chosen. He notes which team chose last and walks over to the other team. He can see himself coming toward them. He can see his knobby knees beneath the short pants, knows they are talking about him in the huddle. They turn their backs to him. He cannot beg to play. He walks away, his face burning. There is no place on the red clay playground where he can get out of sight.
    As a Southerner, Michael is deeply imprinted with the Code. A man fights when called on. A man is tough, straightforward, honorable, and strong. He can play football, he loves to hunt, and he allows no nasty talk around the ladies, although he discusses them in lewd terms among his fellows.
    When you are a child, the Code without the equipment will kill you.
    Michael has learned not to fight 12-year-olds if he can help it. He is told that he is a coward. He believes it. He is articulate and has not yet learned to conceal it. He is told that he is a sissy. He believes that this must be true.
    He has finished reading his paper before the class now. He knows how Junior Atkins' breath will smell in his face. The teacher tells Michael he is a "good classroom citizen." She does not understand why he turns his face away from her.
    __________
     
    September 10, 1947, the football field behind Willett-Lorance Consolidated:
    Michael Lander is going out for football. He is in the tenth grade and he is going out without his parents' knowledge. He feels that he has to do it. He wants the good feeling his classmates have about the sport. He is curious about himself. The uniform makes him wonderfully anonymous. He cannot see himself when he has it on. The tenth grade is late for a boy to begin playing football, and he has much to learn. To his surprise the others are tolerant of him. After a few days of forearms and cleats, they have discovered that, though he is naive about the game, he will hit and he wants to learn from them. It is a good time for him. It lasts a week. His parents learn that he is going out for football. They hate the coach, a godless man who, it is rumored, keeps alcohol in his home. The Reverend Lander is on the school board now. The Landers drive up to the practice field in their Kaiser. Michael does not see them until he hears his name being called. His mother is approaching the sideline, walking stiff-ankled through the grass. The Reverend Lander waits in the car.
    "Take off that monkey suit."
    Michael pretends not to hear. He is playing linebacker with the scrubs in scrimmage. He assumes his stance. Each blade of grass is distinct in his eyes. The tackle in front of him has a red scratch on his calf.
    His mother is walking the sideline now. Now she is crossing it. She is coming. Two hundred pounds of pondered rage. "I said take off that monkey suit and get in that car."
    Michael might have saved himself in that moment. He might have yelled into his mother's face. The coach might have saved him, had he been quicker, less afraid for his job. Michael cannot let the others see any more. He cannot be with them after this. They are looking at each other now with expressions he cannot stand. He trots toward the prefabricated building they use for a dressing room. There are snickers behind him.
    The coach has to speak to the boys twice to resume the practice. "We