I tried to keep it in, I tried to be a straight face and professional like Atticus, but I couldn’t. My eyes started to water and soon my face was covered in tears. My face was hot with rage, and I stood frozen on the balcony. Scout passed by me, and I gathered myself. I took a deep breath, and wiped my face, but the tears kept flowing. I silently led Scout and Dill through the droves of people, out of the courthouse, and we headed home.
It didn’t make any sense, I was so sure, I knew he was innocent and I was so sure the jury would see that, why couldn’t they see it? I caught myself clenching my fists and jaw, it just didn’t make any sense. Tom Robinson was a good man, he was an honest Negro, it wasn’t fair. The Ewells were worse than any colored folk in Maycomb. It was that scum Bob Ewell, he’s the one who hurt Ms. Mayella. He’s the one who beat her, and the one who did disgusting things to her, he’s the one who‘s left-handed. Him, Bob Ewell not Tom Robinson. It didn’t make any sense. Scout kept poking me and asking questions, she didn’t understand. She didn’t get the trial and she didn’t get why I was so upset, Dill didn’t either. They were too young, they didn’t understand the terrible state of this world, the horrible injustices experienced every single day. Negros out of work, children starving, houses burning, all these terrible things happening to good people, every single day. Why? It’s so stupid, the Robinsons were good people, so why was this happening to them? It didn't make any sense. I paused, my foot was throbbing, Scout and Dill were staring at me confused. I looked down and realized just how angry I was. I nearly broke my shoe, I kicked a tree with all my might, the big oak tree at the Radley’s house. I froze, I stood there in disbelief, I couldn’t believe how angry I was. I looked up at the cement filled hole and thought about how simple life used to be, how easy it all was. I gathered myself again and ignored the searing pain in my foot. I shooed the kids along, and we hurried home. When we arrived home, I was silent. It was too late for me to talk to them, and it was too late for Dill to go home, so he was going to stay over. We went upstairs, I set up pillows on the floor for Dill. I laid there trying to sleep, but I couldn’t. Dill was babbling on but I didn’t hear a word he said, I didn’t hear anything until Scout came in. The door creaked as she poked her head in to see if we were awake. I sat up in my bed and smiled at her to come in. She had annoyed me all day with questions about the trial, but somehow seeing her comforted me. Something about her innocence and how blissfully unaware of the terrible truths of the world was sweet. They came and sat on my bed and we started to talk. Dill was upset about the trial too, but not the same way. They were too young, still full of imagination and hope. They didn’t grasp the full scope of what happened in that courtroom, and in a way I was glad. What happened in there was a terrible injustice and proved to be a disgusting recounting of events. It was good that Scout didn’t get everything that happened, she was still so young, and Aunt Alexandra wanted her to be a lady so bad. It was good Dill didn’t understand either, he didn’t like how Mister Gilmer was treating Tom Robinson but he didn’t get why. They didn’t understand the delicacies of race, and how Negroes were different from us, and I was starting to question it too. All my life we’ve been separated, told that Negroes were less than us. But why? It didn’t make any sense, we were all the same after all. Why couldn’t they see that Tom Robinson was better than the Ewells despite the fact that he’s colored. It didn’t make any sense. By: Rachel DiDonato -- contributing writer Comments are closed.
|
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
June 2019
Categories |