Freedom Train

January 10, 1963 / January 11, 1963

January 10, 1963

Terry paced the length of a jail cell in Birmingham, Alabama. His eyes continued to flit toward the wall clock on the other side of the iron bars. He was shaking in rage, fuming at his friend, whose big mouth always seemed to land Terry in some sort of trouble.

He was supposed to be with her right at that moment. Instead, he was in jail, and he'd done nothing to deserve it. Not this time.

"Thinking about that girl again?" Henry asked as he leaned against the cold wall, one leg propped against the faded brick and his thumb nail in his mouth.

"You just had to go starting trouble..." Terry growled at his best friend before banging his hands on the bars. "I'd be with her right now if it weren't for you."

Henry laughed and pushed himself off the wall.

"Hell, you and I both know we ain't do nothing wrong but drive while black."

"No. You drove while black, 10 miles over the speed limit, and then mouthed off to a cop who was actually being half way decent to us."

Henry shook his head and put himself next to Terry.

"That girl's getting to you, T. That cop was a racist son of a bitch who saw two niggers in a decent car and figured it was stolen. If you couldn't see that, then that girls got you more messed up than I thought."

"You don't even know her," Terry remarked.

Henry huffed and turned around, heading back toward the wall.

"I know enough," he muttered under his breath.

Terry clenched his eyes closed, his eyes back on the clock. He imagined her waiting for him in the dark, the cold air snaking its way into her jacket and making her shiver. He pictured her scanning the trees for him, searching, and coming up empty.

It broke his heart that she would be thinking that he hadn't cared enough to come back.

Terry wasn't unwise. He knew that technically; the girl wasn't his sweetheart. But he couldn't deny the way even a thought of her made him feel. It was almost magical, the pull he felt toward her since that first night. Another woman had never occupied his thoughts more ferociously than Annabeth.

No. She wasn't his, but there was something about her that made it feel as if she were.

"Besides," Henry continued. "They'll let us out by morning. They have nothing to hold us on but bullshit and prejudice."

Terry chose not to respond, deciding not to say something in the spur of the moment that he was bound to regret. Instead, he clenched the bars in his hands and rested his forehead against the cold metal.

All he could do was wait and hope that he would be able to see her again without setting up an aforementioned time. It wouldn't be easy, but he would try because he wasn't sure he'd ever sleep again if he didn't.

***

Annabeth waited for him.

She waited for him for exactly three hours and two minutes.

She couldn't wait anymore and went home with the disappointment so heavy within her chest that she almost couldn't breathe.

You know who always showed up when they were supposed to?

Bobby.

Every time he said he was going to be there, he was.

Every.

Time.

***

. January 11, 1963

Reginald left Annabeth to finish feeding the livestock while he ran into town with Ronny. It was almost therapeutic to be able to work with her hands outside, even better than hanging the wash. It was a rare occurrence that her Daddy let her help with the animals, so she completed the task jovially, throwing feed toward the chickens with an overexaggerated gait that made her smile at herself.