Free A Thousand Never Evers by Shana Burg

an egg white beat too long. And I can’t imagine how Mama’s going to fill their glasses, because her hands tremble while she takes the pitcher of iced tea out of the refrigerator. But Mama takes a deep breath and walks back into the living room.
    I mix up some dough for Ralphie to play with while I listen to the rest.
    “They’re gaining rights at our expense,” Mrs. Worth says, as if Mama and me aren’t in the house. “If we give them a mixed education, next they’ll want to swim in the same pool as our kids.”
    Well, of course I want to jump in that pool behind the white high school. One time, Delilah dragged me all the way over there to peek at it through the wire fence. The water looked so cool and blue.
    But soon as Mr. Mudge talks, I know I’ve got as much chance of ever splashing in that pool as I do of kissing Cool Breeze Huddleston—just about none.
    “If we use the land to build a new high school, a
pri-iiii-vate
sort of school, it’ll protect our children if and when the white high school lets the coloreds in,” Mr. Mudge says. “By then it’ll be too late to tell the coloreds, ‘Scram!’”
    I have to say, I’m shocked to hear Mr. Mudge talk this way. And I reckon the mayor doesn’t like what Mr. Mudge says either.
    “With the greatest respect, sir,” the mayor says, “but the Supreme Court passed a law that violates our state’s right to educate the children of Mississippi as we see fit.” The mayor takes a gingersnap off the serving plate. “Fortunately, I’m in charge of the schools in Kuckachoo, so I’m just not gonna follow that law. Integration here?” The mayor takes a bite. “That ain’t nothin’ but a thousand never evers!”
    All of a sudden, Mrs. Worth shouts, “The tea! Watch it!”
    My breath gets shorter and shorter till it’s barely there.
    I see Mama in the living room, crunched up small as a cricket, hands shaking while she tries to scrub the spilled tea out of the white carpet with her rag.
    “Sorry, ma’am,” Mama says.
    Mrs. Tate looks at Mama but doesn’t say a word.
    But Mrs. Worth turns to Mrs. Tate and says, “That maid’s too old. Just look at her. Time for a new one.”
    My eyes narrow to slits.
    When Mrs. Worth turns away to grab another gingersnap, Mrs. Tate’s other friend, Miss Springer, stares at Mama till Mama lifts her eyes from the carpet. Then Miss Springer waves her hand in front of her face. With that one gesture, she tells Mama the spill, it’s fuss and feathers. No big deal.
    While Mama runs past me in the kitchen to wet her rag, I see she’s got a tear in her eye like she’s wondering if she’s too old for this work. But she’s also got a smile on her lips, like she can’t stop thinking about the wave from Miss Springer.

CHAPTER 10

    July 18, 1963, Afternoon
     
    At long last the world’s most precious carpet is clean, so Mama runs upstairs to iron the linens.
    I give Ralphie a ball of dough to play with. Then I sit down beside him and peek into the living room. I’ve got to pay real close attention so I can fill Mama in later.
    The mayor picks up where he left off. “What we need is a garden—a garden that will provide free food for the community and extra cash for those who need it. Nobody can beat that!”
    “Well, we can’t plant a dang thing till next May anyhow,” Mr. Mudge says.
    That’s when Miss Springer chimes in. Miss Springer has the
Delta Daily
crossword puzzle open on her lap. She looks plainer than a wheat roll, but I can tell you one thing: there’s nothing dull about what she has to say. “Wait till next year? Hogwash! Just ’cause most folks in the Delta are afraid of a cool-season garden doesn’t mean we have to be. My grandpa always planted a fall garden. He always told me, ‘Violet, thank your lucky stars we live up here in the northern part of the state. We’re spared the worst of the Mississippi sun.’ Why, we can go ahead and plant our garden next week.”
    “Next week!” Mrs. Tate