I ponder that for a minute, rememberin' Miss. Lizabeth sayin' the same thing.
"A double negative," I say, repeatin' what she told me, "So you got schoolin' at Mista Grangers?"
There ain't no way he got smart on his own, not even a white man could do that. But it weird, 'cause Mista Granger ain't normally nice to his slaves. He ain't normally nice to no one.
"Not him, he ain't teach anyone. It was two men before 'em," he says, all quiet, eyes still closed.
My fingers wrap 'round the grass, tryin' to stop me feelin' bad for 'em. Daddy's his fourth master. Fourth. I can't even imagine movin' so often, not at all.
I open my mouth to speak, but then I snap it shut. What do I say? I can't 'pologize, I do that too much anyhow, and he jus' a slave. But I am sorry. Fourth, that ain't a small number.
"So you smart?"
He laughs a little, smirkin' at the night sky. I watch his lips, all full, and smile a little my own. I glad he ain't upset that I didn't give my apology, I jus' couldn't do it.
"Not too much," he say, "But I was his children's tutors, so I know a little."
A black man, the tutor of his children. That don't make real sense, they should have someone like Miss. Lizabeth doin' it. A woman with children is always better. An' a white person.
He reads my mind, "He hadn't had much money, it was jus' me and one anotha colored man. He didn't have much a plantation, and that's why he ended up sellin' me."
I find myself at a loss for words again, tappin' my foot up and down real fast. He knows jus' what to say, to get me to feel bad. It a trap, I know it is. He a sneaky bastard. And to think, I was gonna help this slave escape tonigh'. How'd I ever come up with that plan?
"Well if you ain't gonna run, I gonna go up to my chamber," I say, rushin' to my feet. He peaks one eye open, then both, starin' up confused. Standin' over his lyin' body, I feel all powerful, like he ain't the strong one. I white, and he ain't. I'm better than him. He don't deserve my sympathy.
"Why?" he asks, pretendin' like he don't know, guiltin' me like that.
I ignore him, callin' over my shoulder once I few paces away, "You los' your chance, don't you come back to me if you wanna run again. You on your own."
"A double negative," I say, repeatin' what she told me, "So you got schoolin' at Mista Grangers?"
There ain't no way he got smart on his own, not even a white man could do that. But it weird, 'cause Mista Granger ain't normally nice to his slaves. He ain't normally nice to no one.
"Not him, he ain't teach anyone. It was two men before 'em," he says, all quiet, eyes still closed.
My fingers wrap 'round the grass, tryin' to stop me feelin' bad for 'em. Daddy's his fourth master. Fourth. I can't even imagine movin' so often, not at all.
I open my mouth to speak, but then I snap it shut. What do I say? I can't 'pologize, I do that too much anyhow, and he jus' a slave. But I am sorry. Fourth, that ain't a small number.
"So you smart?"
He laughs a little, smirkin' at the night sky. I watch his lips, all full, and smile a little my own. I glad he ain't upset that I didn't give my apology, I jus' couldn't do it.
"Not too much," he say, "But I was his children's tutors, so I know a little."
A black man, the tutor of his children. That don't make real sense, they should have someone like Miss. Lizabeth doin' it. A woman with children is always better. An' a white person.
He reads my mind, "He hadn't had much money, it was jus' me and one anotha colored man. He didn't have much a plantation, and that's why he ended up sellin' me."
I find myself at a loss for words again, tappin' my foot up and down real fast. He knows jus' what to say, to get me to feel bad. It a trap, I know it is. He a sneaky bastard. And to think, I was gonna help this slave escape tonigh'. How'd I ever come up with that plan?
"Well if you ain't gonna run, I gonna go up to my chamber," I say, rushin' to my feet. He peaks one eye open, then both, starin' up confused. Standin' over his lyin' body, I feel all powerful, like he ain't the strong one. I white, and he ain't. I'm better than him. He don't deserve my sympathy.
"Why?" he asks, pretendin' like he don't know, guiltin' me like that.
I ignore him, callin' over my shoulder once I few paces away, "You los' your chance, don't you come back to me if you wanna run again. You on your own."
