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"What message?" Grandmother Hudson demanded angrily.

"That she has the part of Emily Webb. Rehearsals start tomorrow."

13

How the Mighty Fall

.

"What does that mean?" Grandmother Hudson

asked. As I explained who Emily Webb was in the play, her eyes widened and the way she looked at me changed from an expression of slight interest to a look of deeper appreciation.

"That's quite an achievement for someone on their first day at a new school," she remarked. It was the closest I had come to getting a sincere compliment from her.

"I don't know if I should do it," I made the mistake of saying.

"You don't know if you should do it?" She pulled her shoulders back and her face reddened. "Why? Because it entails some work, some effort? Was your family on welfare? Were you used to having everything simply given to you?"

"No," I said, my eyes stinging with angry tears. "Mama never went on welfare. Ken took advantage of everything he could, but Mama refused. And I am not afraid of hard work and making an effort. Do you actually think it was easy for me growing up in that neighborhood, trying to learn something in that school? My grades weren't gifts," I emphasized. "No, nothing's been handed to me on any silver platter?'

I held my breath, expecting her to explode at my outburst. Her tight lips softened as she pulled the corners up gently and her eyes seemed to sparkle with pleasure. What a confusing woman, I thought.

"If, as you say, you've had to battle against such terrible odds to accomplish what you have

accomplished, why does accepting the role in a school play look like such a Mount Olympus to climb? Why isn't it a piece of cake?" she added.

"Because...because I've never done this before," I stammered.

"So? Are...you going to run away from every task you've never done before? What sort of grit and backbone does that exhibit? I'll say one thing for your mother," she continued, "I didn't approve of her activities in college, but she didn't shy away from challenges, even if it meant she had to suffer indignation and share poverty, things she never had to suffer and share before.

"Of course," she added, "you'd never know she was the same woman today?'

"What about my father?" I dared to ask. "What about him?"

"I don't know very much," I said.

"That makes two of us," she said, "and for my part, I'd like to keep it that way."

There would be no more discussion of that, I thought.

When Grandmother Hudson slammed a door closed, it was closed.

The next day, the cast list was posted on Mr. Bufurd's door and everyone knew I had been given the coveted role of Emily Webb. The girls who were jealous of my having Mr. Bufurd for an adviser were absolutely erupting with envy. Most just gazed at me with green eyes, but Maureen Knowland put the first glass of ice water on my accomplishment when she said, "I wonder what Corbette Adams is going to do about this."

"What do you mean?" I asked. Corbette, who attended Sweet William, had been cast as George Gibbs opposite me. Emily and George are in love and marry in the play.

"I think what I mean is obvious," Maureen sailed in my direction as she entered the classroom. All the girls but Audrey followed like a tail of cans tied to the rear bumper of a car, bouncing their laughter along after her.

I looked at Audrey.

"Did you understand that remark?" I asked her.

She raised her eyes to me and then shifted them to the cast list. She had been cast as George Gibbs's mother. "You're an African-American," she said. "You have a light complexion, but you're still--"

"What?" I demanded.

"Black to them, I guess," she said shrugging.