A Bronzeville Story
Elementary: Grades 3–4
Story
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"I'm afraid the bathroom is down the hall, too," Uncle Obie said. "You'll have to share with the others on this floor." Who cared if it was a couple of steps down the hall, Penny thought. They had a real bathroom now!
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"This will do just fine, Obie, don't you worry," said Mama. A slight glint of tears shown in her eyes, but she was proud and strong.
"Many thanks," Daddy added. "I'll be hunting down a job starting tomorrow."
"Tomorrow's Sunday," Obie reminded them. "A day for rest and thanksgiving. Monday will do for job hunting."
"We could all do with a day's rest," Mama said.
"Sure you could!" Uncle Obie agreed. "Now why don't you all freshen up and take it easy for a while. We'll all go out for dinner this evening. Lurlene and I will show you around a bit."
"Oh, I don't know, Obie," Daddy said before anyone else could agree. "We've got to watch our pennies until I find work."
"You do, indeed," Uncle Obie replied. "That's why it's my treat. There's a nice place nearby here where Lurlene and I always go. We have to celebrate your first night in Chicago, don't you know!" Mama and Daddy protested strongly. But Obie wouldn't take no for an answer.
Two hours later the six of them were seated at a big round table in a classy-looking restaurant. From somewhere came the sounds of mellow jazz music. Every table had a crisp white tablecloth and a vase of fresh white tulips and leafy greenery. But there wasn't a white person in sight. Penny couldn't believe it.
She had dressed her best, but she felt raggedy in this setting. Especially compared to Lurlene. Lurlene was wearing a sweater the rosy pink color of a Mississippi sunset, a color that perfectly set off the glowing cocoa tone of her skin. Everything about Lurlene was perfect.
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But it was the sweater that Penny couldn't take her eyes off of. It was fuzzy-soft as chick's down and looked real warm. Every time she snuck a look at Lurlene, Penny felt chillier than ever.
Beyond the big restaurant window, the city's lights were blinking on. More and more people were spilling onto the sidewalks. Saturday night was underway. Somebody stopped on the curb and started blowing on a trumpet. A small crowd began to gather. Someone pitched a few coins into a hat the trumpet player had tossed on the ground. The sound seeped right through the glass, like little bits of excited energy. Cleet caught the beat and tapped along against the tabletop.
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