“We’re not interested,” Jericho said crisply and stormed outside.
“Jericho! Jericho, slow down, please,” Evie huffed. She had followed him out of the Fitter Families building. He walked briskly, and she was having difficulty keeping up. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Jericho said, though it was clearly anything but nothing. She’d never seen him so angry. He was always so cool, so calm. “That isn’t science. It’s bigotry. And… and I don’t like experiments.” He took a deep breath, as if he were forcing himself to calm down. “It’s time to go back. We’re already late.”
They came out on the far end of the fairgrounds and walked toward the jitney that waited to take people back into town. Just beyond the fence, roughly half a dozen men stood on a small, makeshift platform. They wore coveralls, plain black jackets, and black hats. Evie stopped short.
“Look, it’s Jacob Call.”
Holding his holy book aloft, Brother Jacob Call thundered at the crowd. “Pastor Algoode spoke the truth and the way. Don’t you see what’s happening in this country? Sin has taken root in our homes. Greed and envy rot the foundation. We’ve lost our way. Repent, sinners, for the end is near! Hear the word of the Lord God as it was revealed to his prophet, the Right Reverend Algoode, amen!”
“The Brethren,” Evie whispered.
“And the Lord spake with the tongue of a thousand serpents, saying, ‘Anoint thy flesh and prepare ye the very walls of your houses, for the end will come.’ The Lord your God has sent the Beast to rise!”
“The Beast will rise,” the men echoed. One of the men shook, and his eyes rolled back in their sockets. He spoke in tongues as his body twitched.
“Solomon’s Comet cometh! The Dragon of Old will rise, and only the faithful will be saved to fight God’s holy war while the sinners perish!”
Evie and Jericho would have to pass before them to get to the jitney.
“I can’t,” she said.
“Don’t worry. I’m with you,” Jericho said, positioning himself between her and the men. Evie felt their gaze on her. Automatically, she crossed her coat over her body. She wished she weren’t wearing her patterned stockings and lipstick even as she felt angry that the zealots’ contempt made her feel this way. A boy of no more than fourteen or so watched her intently, wearing an expression that wavered between lust and hatred.
“The sin of the world was woman’s sin,” the boy shouted. His voice hadn’t even changed yet; he was younger than she’d thought.
“Just keep walking,” Jericho whispered, taking Evie’s hand in his.
Evie tried to keep her eyes forward, but she could hear the boy saying something, a word that caught her attention. It was not a nice word. She glanced in his direction. His face was twisted with hate.
“Harlot,” the boy hissed. His arm went back, as if for a pitch, and Evie was completely shocked when the mud hit. She gasped as it splayed across the front of her coat.
“Harlot!” the boy yelled again.
People were staring at her—at her, as if she’d done something wrong. She wanted to scream at them. She wanted to punch the boy as hard as she could. She also wanted to cry.
“Harlot,” Jacob Call shouted, and the men joined him, a chorus now. “Harlot!”
Jericho clutched Evie’s hand tighter and walked her quickly toward the fairground gates. But she could hear them calling after her.
Harlot, harlot, harlot, harlot!
CROSS MY HEART AND HOPE TO DIE
Memphis was late. He’d told Isaiah that he’d pick him up from Sister Walker’s house at five o’clock, but it was coming up on six, and Isaiah was hungry. Aunt Octavia served dinner promptly at six fifteen. If they weren’t washed up and sitting at the table by then, they went to bed hungry. Isaiah was already mad that Sister Walker wouldn’t let him read the cards. All they’d done that afternoon was sums and computation, and he was pretty sore about it. He did not intend to spend the night tossing and turning on an empty stomach just because of Memphis. Isaiah knew Sister wouldn’t let him leave without an adult, so he waited until she went to the kitchen for her tea, then called loudly, “I think I see him now, Sister!” and bolted for the door before she could catch up with him. He’d never walked home from Sister’s house by himself before. It was exciting, like he had a secret world to explore. He wished it weren’t getting dark, though. He didn’t like the dark. His path took him past the funeral home, and he thought of his mama, lying in her coffin in her white Sunday dress, and of Gabe, too, and that made him sad and a little frightened. Now he had to walk past Trinity Cemetery at night. Everybody knew that was when the dead walked. His stomach growled, and he thought about Octavia denying him dinner.
