Dread Nation, Chapter 12, Page 146-147
I started to dream of the dinner, the thought so tantalizing I could taste it. My thoughts quickly drifted towards home.
“I wonder how many courses there will be. My mother went to a dinner once where there were seventeen courses, once. Seventeen! She said by the end she was so stuffed she could barely even taste the food. Can you imagine?” I didn’t think much of the comment as I continued to browse my magazine, daydreaming about it. Being an attendant was the best that Miss Preston’s girls could hope for, and it was the closest I could ever get to being a real lady. But it perked Jane's interest immediately. I kept my family a mystery, much like Jane had, and apparently the little rebel was curious.
“Is that so? Does your mother go to a lot of dinner parties?” I try to avoid the question and keep my face neutral, but Jane studies my expression. I bend back down and look at the magazine in front of me, significantly less interested in fashion but determined to ignore her.
“A few. What about your mother Jane?”
“Oh, my momma’s been to a few.”
It’s clear that Jane wants to keep her secrets her own, and since I’m doing the same, I’m content to go back to our temporary truce. I kept flipping through the pages of my magazine, attempting to make conversation about the different dresses and what the high ladies of society are wearing, but Jane doesn’t respond. She’s lost in thought, probably her own memories. I know what that looks like. And I know the ache that comes with it.
“Jane, are you even listening?” She stays silent, looking at the grass in front of her feet. I look up and happen to see the ruffian that Jane brought with us to the Spencer’s, waving at the oblivious girl next to me.
“Jane!”
“What?” she snapped. I tried not to roll my eyes.
“I do believe that’s Jackson waving to you from the tree line.” She glances at the man and shakes her head, pointing to the shed at the back of the property. I return to my magazine, waiting for her to go to him, which is almost a full minute later. I’ll give it to her, she’s smart. She gets away with far more than I realized. But she doesn’t understand the importance of making it into a society that hates us Negros, and she’ll only ever get the strap for her recklessness.
I sigh and roll up my magazine, tucking it back into my dress before standing up and quietly following Jane. My momma always told me that people tell when they don’t think anybody’s listening, and that advice has gotten me far.
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