Forty-One #2
Bile scorched Trudy’s throat, she looked behind her for a friendly face, but they all blurred together.
She wanted to explain how June Bug had done it on purpose, that he’d wanted it that way.
But those secrets were his. Plus, she knew they wouldn’t believe her.
Her knees jellied. Her lips went numb. Hot stares burned the back of her head.
In her periphery, she saw folks whispering, heard chatter gamboling through the air.
Sonny Bishop banged on his sound block again, which pulled Trudy back.
“Mr. Bishop,” she squeaked out. “I don’t think Barbara’s list paints the whole picture.”
Sonny Bishop sneered. “Well, sweetheart, enlighten us. Please.”
“If you want to know why June Bug Moody had to sit out in the homecoming game, then perhaps you should ask him . But I would take our walking gossip column here, with a grain of salt.”
The crowd gasped. Barbara stood, her jaw slack, preparing to defend herself.
“What are you saying Miss Abernathy?” Sonny Bishop asked.
“Yes, what are you saying?” Barbara parroted.
“I’m saying June Bug Moody brought this on himself.”
“You mean the way Jimmie did?” Barbara stood right next to Trudy now.
Rage scorched Trudy’s chest. “Barbara,” she whispered. “You should step back.”
“Or what, Miss Abernathy? You’ll throw me off Bessemer’s Bluff, too?”
She remembered what Haskel had said: stand up for yourself .
Let go , Jimmie had told her that day on the rope swing. Or you’ll just hang there all day.
And Shug had said to June Bug out on that tree: You know the truth; you’re just scared of it.
She sucked in as much air as her lungs would take and released it steadily. The crowd seemed to have doubled.
She finally made out Leta Pearl’s face. Flies like dog shit way more than honey.
“Y’all wanna know who killed Jimmie?” Trudy said. The room fell silent. “That’s really what this is about, isn’t it, Barbara?” Saying it felt good. “You want the truth?”
Sonny and the board showed the whites of their eyes.
“You killed him!” She pointed at Sonny Bishop and a collective gasp filled the room. She faced the audience. “And you did. And you did. And you did.” She pointed to a different person with each you, the last one to Barbara .
“You killed Jimmie with your insistence that he wear his body and soul down to a shadow.” Hot tears began to wet her face, all those years of anger finally unleashing.
“And for what?” She scanned the room, turning in a circle.
“For what?” The room was silent, except for some coughs and rustling of seats.
“So y’all could feel warm and fuzzy wearing orange-and-blue ribbons, and sweatshirts with bears on ’em?
” Spittle flung from her lips. “You made a kid believe his entire worth was summed up in a game. But did you ever take one second to find out what was going on in his heart?”
The hall remained dead silent.
“Well, did you?” Every face Trudy met found interest in the floor.
“What did y’all think was gonna happen? Huh, Barbara? Did you ever ask Jimmie yourself, or were you too busy stirring up vitriol to print in your garbage newspaper?”
“Board members!” Barbara belted beside Trudy. “This is exactly the type of erratic behavior I am talking about.”
“Fire me if you want. It’ll be your kids’ loss as far as I’m concerned.
” Trudy spotted Leon standing in the back, next to the doorway.
She wiped the wet from her face and then on her skirt and looked at him.
“If y’all are so worried about June Bug Moody, then maybe let Jimmie Beaumont be your lesson. ”
Leon scowled and looked away.
“And what lesson is that, Miss Abernathy?” Barbara said, getting way too close.
“I knew Jimmie behind closed doors, Barbara. I watched as he melted from a young man with dreams into a dark puddle of sorrow and loneliness.” Trudy gave up trying to compose herself and unleashed. “I watched him do things that are unspeakable!” She was screaming now.
Barbara was face to face now, so close Trudy could smell the garlic from her dinner. “So unspeakable that you killed him?”
It was Barbara’s fingertip on Trudy’s breastbone that finally broke her.
She had never slapped anyone in her entire life; perhaps that’s why she didn’t realize she done it until after it happened.
She had to admit, it felt good—all of it—the rage boiling from her chest and coursing across her shoulder, blazing down her arm, and finding its glorious release in her open palm, right across Barbara Beaumont’s priggish face.
The tinny crackling sound of the whack! of Barbara’s cheek.
The flick of helplessness of Barbara’s head, beehive and all, accepting all that sizzling fury with no choice but to do so.
The way Barbara’s hands flew to her face, too late to defend herself, the way she careened in utter astonishment, backward into her seat, but missing by just enough to end up sprawled out on the cold tile.
Trudy would have gladly done it a hundred times over.
“Miss Abernathy!” Sonny banged his gavel like he was killing a snake. The room lit up in an uncontrolled frenzy, so many oh mys and holy shits . “I demand order! Order!”
Pamela Rickard rushed to Barbara’s side, knelt down, and put her arm around her.
Trudy stood over Barbara. “I didn’t push Jimmie off that cliff.
He jumped.” Barbara held her cheek. Pamela looked like she’d stepped in dog poop on the way to Easter Sunday.
Trudy knelt down too and lowered her voice to a whisper.
“That was for feeding Jimmie those biscuits and blaming me for his death. So, if I were you ...” Trudy offered her hand.
“I’d take my hand and pretend like everything’s fine.
” Trudy helped Barbara stand, then brushed her bangs out of her face and walked back to the podium.
Barbara stood there, astonished, her nostrils doing calisthenics.
“Sonny, that’s all I have to say,” Trudy said.
Folks erupted in chatter again, trying to make sense of everything they’d witnessed.
Eventually, after a tight huddle between the board members, Sonny Bishop moved to vote. “An Aye vote is to remove Miss Abernathy, and a Nay vote is to keep her.”
Trudy sat next to Miss Duffy, drew in a breath; her sweaty skin tingled as her nerves settled.
“Raise your hands for Aye,” Sonny said.
“How’s everybody doing this evening?” Shug called from the back.
Trudy flipped her head around to meet his gaze. “Shug?” she whispered. A wave of cool headedness washed over her.
Shug removed his hat and walked down the aisle as he spoke with that stupid grin. “Hope I’m not too late.” Shug laughed uncomfortably, glanced over at Trudy, and said, “I don’t normally get involved in politics ...”
Trudy tried to swallow, but her throat was too tight.
“So I’ll keep this simple,” Shug said. “It seems June Bug Moody’s pretty adamant: if Miss Abernathy ain’t his chemistry teacher come Monday morning, he’s off the team for the rest of the season. His words, not mine.”
Shug’s comment was like kerosene on a campfire, inciting uncontrolled pattering and commotion, everyone aware that without June Bug the Bruins would not win another game.
“This is nonsense!” Barbara Beaumont said.
Shug said, “And I reckon given the conversations happening down at the Elks Lodge on Thursdays, it seems you board members have a ... shall we say ... personal stake? ... in winning this coming Friday.”
Sonny Bishop’s eyes darted around. Hank Powell tugged at his collar while Buzz Watkins and Elroy Markham took extended drinks of water.
“Figured y’all might want this information before you vote.” Coach Meechum put his hat back on and turned to leave. “Y’all have a good evening now.”
Trudy wanted to run after him, to let him know that she doesn’t get involved in politics either, that she wasn’t marrying Haskel anymore.
She’d replayed the night he left her at Haskel’s in her head so many times, the way Pete had claimed that Mister Coach made her eyes sparkle.
What would’ve happened if she’d let him take her back to her car?
What if he’d been wanting her to initiate something?
It would have made more sense, she was the one engaged, not him.
She wanted to know about June Bug, too. But this night was already too much, so, once more, she simply watched Coach Meechum leave.
The vote: Ayes 0 Nays 4.