Have No Shame Read Free Page A

negotiation point.
    Jimmy Lee pulled away and I saw a momentary flash of consideration pass in his eyes. Then Corky slapped him on the back and that flash of consideration was gone, replaced with a darkness, a narrowin’ of his eyes that spoke too loudly of hate.
    “Let’s get ‘em,” Corky said. The sleeves of his white t-shirt strained across his massive biceps. The five inches Jimmy Lee had on him seemed to disappear given the sheer volume of space Corky’s body took up. He was as thick and strong as a bull.
    I jumped off the hood of the truck. “Jimmy Lee, you leave those boys alone.” I was surprised by my own vehemence. This was the stuff he did all the time, it wasn’t new. I was used to him scarin’ and beatin’ on the colored boys in our area. It was somethin’ that just was. But at that moment, all I could see in my mind was poor Byron Bingham.
    Jimmy Lee looked at me for one beat too long. I thought I had him, that he’d give in and choose me over the fight. One second later, he turned to Jake and clapped his hands. “Let’s go, Jake. We’ve got some manners to teach those boys.”
    “Don’t, Jake,” I begged. “Please, leave them alone!”
    Jake looked nervously from me to Jimmy Lee. I knew he was decidin’ if it was safer to side with me, which would lead to instant ridicule by Jimmy Lee, but would keep him out of a fight, or side with Jimmy Lee, which would not only put him in Jimmy Lee’s favor, but also make his actions on par with our father’s beliefs. He’d happily fight for a few bonus points with Daddy to balance out his poor grades.
    My hands trembled at the thought of those innocent boys bein’ hurt. “Jake, please,” I pleaded. “Don’t. Jimmy Lee—”
    They were off, all three of them, stalkin’ their prey, movin’ swiftly out from behind the General Store and down the center of the empty street. Their eyes trained on the two boys. Jimmy Lee walked at a fast clip, clenchin’ and unclenchin’ his fists, his shoulders rounded forward like a bull readyin’ to charge.
    I ran behind him, kickin’ dirt up beneath my feet, beggin’ him to stop. I screamed and pleaded until my throat was raw and my voice a tiny, frayed thread. The colored boys ran swift as deer, down an alley and toward the fields that ran parallel to Division Street, stealin’ quick, fear-filled glances over their shoulders—glances that cried out in desperation and left me feelin’ helpless and even culpable of what was yet to come.
    Jimmy Lee, Jake, and Corky closed in on them like a sudden storm in the middle of the field. The grass swallowed their feet as they surrounded the boys like farmers herdin’ their flock.
    “Get that son of a bitch!” Jimmy Lee commanded, pointin’ to the smaller of the two boys, Daddy’s farmhand. The whites of his eyes shone bright as lightnin’ against his charcoal skin.
    Corky hooted and hollered into the night, “Yeeha! Let’s play, boys!”
    Bile rose in my throat at the thought of what I knew Jimmy Lee would do to them, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he might take it as far as killin’ those boys—if even by accident. I stood in the field, shakin’ and cryin’, then fell to my knees thirty feet from where they were, beggin’ Jimmy Lee not to hurt them. Images of Mr. Bingham’s bloated and beaten body, his tongue swollen beyond recognition, seared like fire into my mind.
    Jimmy Lee moved in on the tremblin’ boy. I was riveted to the coldness in his eyes. “No!” I screamed into the darkness. Jimmy Lee threw a glance my way, a scowl on his face. The smack of Jimmy Lee’s fist against the boy’s face brought me to my feet. When the boy cried out, agony filled my veins. I stumbled and ran as fast and hard as I could, and didn’t stop until I was safely around the side of the General Store, hidden from the shame of what they were doin’, hidden from the eyes that might find me in the night. There was no hidin’ from the guilt, shame, and