Kara Lee Corthron - Daughters of Jubilation

ALSO BY KARA LEE CORTHRON

The Truth of Right Now

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the authors imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

An imprint of Simon & Schuster Childrens Publishing Division

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First Simon Pulse hardcover edition October 2020

Text copyright 2020 by Kara Lee Corthron

Jacket photograph copyright 2019 by Bernadette Newberry / Arcangel | Back jacket silhouettes holding hands copyright 2019 by Klaus Vedfelt / Getty Images | Back jacket silhouette on left by Yuliia Blazhuk/iStock | Jacket light and trees texture by tomertu/iStock

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Book designed by Tiara Iandiorio

Jacket designed by Tiara Iandiorio

Jacket photograph copyright 2019 by Bernadette Newberry / Arcangel | Back jacket silhouettes holding hands copyright 2019 by Klaus Vedfelt / Getty Images | Back jacket silhouette on left by Yuliia Blazhuk/iStock | Jacket light and trees texture by tomertu/iStock

CIP data for this book is available from the Library of Congress.

ISBN 9781481459501 (hc)

ISBN 9781481459525 (ebook)

In memory of my mother

You are horror and beauty in rare combination.

Octavia E. Butler

H ERES THE THING ABOUT ME : I aint normal. Never have been, never will be. So? Thats my private business and nobody elses. I got no interest in drawin attention to myself for any reason other than my good looks and memorable personality. They dont understand what I did yesterday, so theyre makin a big fuss. I hate it, but what am I sposeta do? Refuse a newspaper interview, with my mother so proud shes finna combust?

Can you remember what you were thinking when you first noticed that something was wrong? a young reporter asks me. If I didnt know better, Id think he was in high school too.

Nothin, I say. I could just tell it was gonna fall, so I had to get them outta the way. This is silliness. Who wouldnt have done what I did?

He asks a few more questions; then he makes me pose for a photo with the family. The Pritchards. They flash toothy smiles at me, their savior. Had I not been there yesterday when a big ol oak tree was about to fall on them and their new, shiny T-Bird convertible, we would not be sittin here all sweet and harmonious.

The flashbulb blinds me, and Im finally free to go. Mr. and Mrs. Pritchard thank me once again. Their toddlers run circles around us, and Mrs. Pritchards fat with another one on the way. T-Bird aint exactly a family car, but thats none a my business.

You should come over to our house for supper one night, she offers. In a fraction of a second, Mr. Pritchard shoots her a look. Aint no way in hell hes ever gonna let me step foot into his house. Not that Id wanna go. Plus, white people cant cook.

Thank you, but Im just glad yall are safe, I say in my good-girl voice with my forced good-girl smile. I leave the newspaper offices steps with Mama beamin beside me.

Imma stop sayin it, but I am so proud a you, baby. Youre so brave and selfless.

Honestly, I just didnt have time to think, I say.

That means savin folks is just who you are then. Dont lessen it. This is a great thing you done.

We get to the bus stop and wait.

Whatcha wanna eat tonight? Ill make whatever you want, and you dont even have to help me.

Maybe chicken and dumplins, I tell her.

Shoulda known. I was guessin youd say shrimp and grits, but chicken and dumplins woulda been my second guess, she says.

I mighta said shrimp and grits, but the last time I asked for it, she complained about the rising price of certain kinds a fish, so I thought it was off limits.

She bumps me with her shoulder, and I cant help but grin. Its a weird affectionate thing she used to do when I was little.

Mama doesnt know the whole story, though. Im not a hero.

Its the end of a mostly mild spring. There was no storm or high winds. No reason for a giant oak like that to just plummet to the ground. I was foolin around cuz I got mad. Id ridden my trusty Schwinn into a neighborhood I didnt recognize. Hadnt meant to, I just wasnt payin attention. I stopped to figure out where I was and how I ended up there when a man approached me.

Who do you belong to? he asked, givin me the dirtiest look.

No one. I just got lost, I explained, backing me and my bike away from him.

I suggest you get unlost fore you catch some real trouble, he barked, and then he marched across the street to the car where his wife and kids waited for him. The wife was hollerin at the little ones to get in the car, but they didnt pay her no mind.

When he got to the drivers-side door, before gettin in, he said something to the woman, and she got closer to him. They talked for a few more secondsI was too far away to hear what they saidand the wife looked over at me, shakin her head in disgust. Like the very sight a me was ruinin their whole day.

That ol oak tree was big enough and near enough that I thought, Wouldnt it be somethin for these folks to have an accident right now?

It was a quick thought, and I dont think I meant it, but it didnt matter. A sharp headache ripped through me, and the tree started rockin at the bottom of its trunk. And it kept on rockin, harder and harder. Couldnt believe my eyes. I tried to make it stop, but then I heard the unmistakable creakin sound of wood startin to snap.

I ran over and shoved the family outta the way. All of em. And then the tree came down, crushin that shiny new car.

Once they got over the initial shock, the kids started cryin and screamin, and their parents tripped over each other thankin me. I made the mistake of tellin em my name, which is how the newspaper found me.

So yeah. Sure. I guess I saved the Pritchards from certain death. But nobody knows I tried to kill em first.

W ELL. SPRING HAS FLOWN AWAY like it was runnin from the law, and summer has burdened us all again. It is hot as holy hell out here, and aint nobody bothered to refill the lemonade on account a the flies. But I swear to Christ Jesus they better do somethin, less they want me to melt. My hair! Lord! Just pressed and curled it three hours ago, and its already startin to wilt. I dont even wanna think bout that daggone kitchen at the back a my head. Nasty lil tangles for days. Humidity can kiss my sweet brown ass!