Read Online Feathers by Jacqueline Woodson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jacqueline Woodson
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me it was Samantha and I picked up the extension phone in the hallway.
“My daddy said it’s okay if you come to his church today,” Samantha said.
I had tried to remember when I’d asked to go and couldn’t come up with the conversation. For some reason, Samantha thought going to church was a treat, like getting a second dessert. I wasn’t with her on that.
“I think I don’t want to come out in all this snow,” I said. I looked up at the picture of Lila on the hallway wall. In the photo, she looked stunned, like she couldn’t believe someone was taking her picture. Mama always said it was the camera flash—that Lila hated it. But to me, it looked like she was just surprised to be in this world.
Casper the Friendly Ghost was on the television. He was always trying to get people not to be afraid of him, but it never worked. In the end, they always discovered he was a ghost and went screaming. And Casper always went away sad. But then the next time, he was hopeful again. And then sad again. It went on and on like that. It made me think of the Jesus Boy. The way people kind of stayed away from him just because. I leaned back against the wall and imagined him running after us, yelling, “But I’m a friendly ghost!” But just as I was thinking it, the person yelling became Sean and it wasn’t funny anymore.
“I was planning on just staying home and watching cartoons,” I said. “You know I don’t be going for that church jive.” I tried to sound cool saying it, but it came out like I was reading or something. Didn’t matter. Samantha ignored it anyway.
“You don’t have one day for God,” Samantha said, trying to sound like a grown-up.
“I guess not. I have one day for Casper the Friendly Ghost, though.”
Samantha knew the worst thing she could do was to try to preach to me.
“You know what I dreamed last night?” she said, and didn’t wait for me to answer. “I dreamed I was sitting in God’s lap. Isn’t that the strangest thing?”
“Well, you must have spent the whole time looking up because Mama says I have a place right on God’s shoulder.”
Samantha got quiet, and I knew she was standing in her kitchen getting all puffed-up and mad.
“It’s not like it’s a contest, Samantha,” I said after a long time had passed.
“Like what’s a contest?”
“Being holy. It’s not like whichever cat’s the most holiest wins or something.”
“Nobody said it was.”
I wanted to say “Nobody had to,” but didn’t. Instead I wrapped the phone cord around my finger and waited for Samantha to say something else.
“Don’t you want to be saved, Frannie,” Samantha finally asked me.
“You always ask me that and I always say no because you can’t even tell me what I’d want to be saved from.”
“Yes—I do. I tell you if you get saved, you don’t have to worry after you die.”
“Yeah, Samantha, but that doesn’t make any sense to me because once I die, I’ll be done and I won’t be worrying anyway.”
Now Samantha took a deep breath. And staring at the picture of Lila, hanging on the wall with her eyes all dark and wide, it dawned on me—I wasn’t afraid of dying because dying had always been somewhere in our house, somewhere so close, we could feel the wind of it on our cheeks. Lila had died. The other babies had died. And now Mama was pregnant again and maybe this one would make it and maybe it wouldn’t. But if it didn’t, it would hurt for a while and then we’d figure out how to move on. Samantha was afraid of that—afraid of the feeling of having to move on. She had never had to before, she’d never even known anybody close to her who died. And because of that, the idea of it scared her more than anything. It made me feel a little bit sorry for the people who didn’t know much about death.
“You know something, Samantha?”
“What,” she answered, sounding all mad.
“Last night I was sitting with my grandma and I was looking over her shoulder at
“My daddy said it’s okay if you come to his church today,” Samantha said.
I had tried to remember when I’d asked to go and couldn’t come up with the conversation. For some reason, Samantha thought going to church was a treat, like getting a second dessert. I wasn’t with her on that.
“I think I don’t want to come out in all this snow,” I said. I looked up at the picture of Lila on the hallway wall. In the photo, she looked stunned, like she couldn’t believe someone was taking her picture. Mama always said it was the camera flash—that Lila hated it. But to me, it looked like she was just surprised to be in this world.
Casper the Friendly Ghost was on the television. He was always trying to get people not to be afraid of him, but it never worked. In the end, they always discovered he was a ghost and went screaming. And Casper always went away sad. But then the next time, he was hopeful again. And then sad again. It went on and on like that. It made me think of the Jesus Boy. The way people kind of stayed away from him just because. I leaned back against the wall and imagined him running after us, yelling, “But I’m a friendly ghost!” But just as I was thinking it, the person yelling became Sean and it wasn’t funny anymore.
“I was planning on just staying home and watching cartoons,” I said. “You know I don’t be going for that church jive.” I tried to sound cool saying it, but it came out like I was reading or something. Didn’t matter. Samantha ignored it anyway.
“You don’t have one day for God,” Samantha said, trying to sound like a grown-up.
“I guess not. I have one day for Casper the Friendly Ghost, though.”
Samantha knew the worst thing she could do was to try to preach to me.
“You know what I dreamed last night?” she said, and didn’t wait for me to answer. “I dreamed I was sitting in God’s lap. Isn’t that the strangest thing?”
“Well, you must have spent the whole time looking up because Mama says I have a place right on God’s shoulder.”
Samantha got quiet, and I knew she was standing in her kitchen getting all puffed-up and mad.
“It’s not like it’s a contest, Samantha,” I said after a long time had passed.
“Like what’s a contest?”
“Being holy. It’s not like whichever cat’s the most holiest wins or something.”
“Nobody said it was.”
I wanted to say “Nobody had to,” but didn’t. Instead I wrapped the phone cord around my finger and waited for Samantha to say something else.
“Don’t you want to be saved, Frannie,” Samantha finally asked me.
“You always ask me that and I always say no because you can’t even tell me what I’d want to be saved from.”
“Yes—I do. I tell you if you get saved, you don’t have to worry after you die.”
“Yeah, Samantha, but that doesn’t make any sense to me because once I die, I’ll be done and I won’t be worrying anyway.”
Now Samantha took a deep breath. And staring at the picture of Lila, hanging on the wall with her eyes all dark and wide, it dawned on me—I wasn’t afraid of dying because dying had always been somewhere in our house, somewhere so close, we could feel the wind of it on our cheeks. Lila had died. The other babies had died. And now Mama was pregnant again and maybe this one would make it and maybe it wouldn’t. But if it didn’t, it would hurt for a while and then we’d figure out how to move on. Samantha was afraid of that—afraid of the feeling of having to move on. She had never had to before, she’d never even known anybody close to her who died. And because of that, the idea of it scared her more than anything. It made me feel a little bit sorry for the people who didn’t know much about death.
“You know something, Samantha?”
“What,” she answered, sounding all mad.
“Last night I was sitting with my grandma and I was looking over her shoulder at
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