Freedom Train

April 3, 1963 Cont.

April 3, 1963 cont.

Terry sat at the end of the counter, trying not to look down toward Annabeth.

She looked so pretty in her Sunday best and wearing her hair tucked up under her hat, little curls spilling down around her face.

Maude and Christine sat on one side of her. Sandy sat on the other. They'd been instructed to bring reading materials, school books or the like, so that they had something else to focus on during the ridicule that was sure to come.

Terry just had to keep telling himself that she would be okay. Annabeth chose this for herself, even after he had tried to convince her to go home to the life she had before she had met him.

The man behind the counter asked them to leave but was met with silence. It wasn't long before the throngs of customers came up behind the group of them, taunting them with racial slurs and inappropriate behavior, trying to get them to vacate.

Candy's book was snatched from the place in front of her, the man behind her calling her every dirty name he could think of. Terry kept his head low, remembering the rules that their organizers had gone over with them a million times.

Rule #1: Wear your best clothes.

Check.

Rule #2: Do show yourself friendly at all times.

He repeated this particular rule in his head, reminding himself that it wouldn't look good on anybody if he reached back and pounded that man until he couldn't breathe. Candy might not be his sweetheart, but she was still his friend. It was far from easy to see her be treated that way and do nothing about it.

His foot tapped on the side of the stool as he tried to get his breathing under control.

Breathe in. Hold for two. Breathe out. Repeat.

*~*~*

Annabeth glanced down the counter, noticing the stiffness of Terry's jaw. Like he could feel her gaze, he turned his eyes her way.

Amid the slowly building chaos, Annabeth watched as the corner of Terry's mouth tilted into a slight grin. She returned the smile with a soft grin of her own.

It was the first time he had attempted any kind of smile in her direction since they had broken up. It didn't matter to Annabeth how many weeks had passed, a smile from Terry still sent the butterflies flying around in her belly.

It was almost as if he was asking her if she was okay, while telling her that he was fine. It was an unspoken conversation that reached down and touched her heart.

"What the hell are you ladies doing getting yourselves involved in this?" the man behind the counter said to Annabeth and Sandy.

Rule #3: Do sit straight, and always face the counter.

"Our friends would just like to order some food," Annabeth replied, sitting up straight in her seat, turning her eyes to face the counter and the man behind it.

The man laughed and shook his head.

"Oh, they're gonna get some food alright. In the Birmingham prison. And you two will, too, if you don't get the hell out of here. I've already called the police and they'll be here any second."

Annabeth reached under the counter and squeezed Sandy's hand.

"It's a good thing I like bologna," Annabeth answered.

***

Bobby sat beside Henry, his back straight and his eyes forward.

"Holy shit, Tommy," one man said from behind him. "Is that Bobby Warren with those niggers?"

Bobby clenched his eyes closed, instantly recognizing the voice of his old high school buddy, Scooter.

"Well, I'll be damned," Tommy replied, the shock in his voice clear.

Bobby used to consider Tommy his best friend. They did practically everything together growing up. But when Bobby got involved in protesting and with Annabeth, Bobby began to see what a horrible person his old pal was. It bothered him so much that he stopped taking his calls and hanging out with him.

Now, here he was. And if Bobby ever knew Tommy, he could tell by those four words- he wasn't happy.

"And here I thought he stopped hanging out with us because he was too wrapped up in Annabeth's pussy to pay us old back home boys any mind."

"Guess he's been dick deep in these pussies instead," Scooter laughed as they walked up closer behind them.

Bobby couldn't see it, but one of them must've ordered a drink before they arrived. Before he knew what was happening, ice cold liquid poured down his back, soaking his shirt and making him jump. Bobby bristled in his seat, his eyes darting toward Henry, his jaw clenched.

Rule #4: Don't strike back, or curse back, if attacked.

Henry offered Bobby a brief nod, reminding him to remain in control.

Instead of retaliating, Bobby straightened himself in his seat and once again set his eyes forward.

"Look, Tom. They turned him into a pussy, too," Scooter laughed as he reached out and swatted the back of Bobby's head.

Henry cleared his throat loudly from beside Tommy and the boys looked his way. Henry stood to his feet, towering over those boys by at least a foot. Bobby could hear their deep intake of breath at the monster of a man before them, as Henry straightened his pants- his eyes only leaving the front of the counter for mere seconds to glower their way.

"These niggers ain't worth our time," Tommy said quickly. "Let's go, Scooter."

Bobby sent a quick and grateful nod toward Henry once the boys left and bit back his smile.

Rule #5: Don't laugh out.

He might not be able to have a laugh at their expense in that moment, but Bobby had no doubt that they would remember that moment and laugh for years to come.

***

"When do you think the cops will get here?" Sandy whispered to Annabeth.

"Soon, I'm guessing," Annabeth replied.

"I don't know if I'm scared or excited," Sandy admitted.

"Probably a little bit of both. But don't worry. More than likely we will be together," Annabeth added with a quick smile to her friend. "Hush now and look forward. It'll be over soon."

Rule #6: Don't hold conversations.

Unless they're silent ones.

***

Terry heard them coming. Their sirens wailed as they neared Britt's lunch counter in Birmingham, Alabama. Tires screeched to a halt in front of the establishment before men in uniform climbed from their police cars and headed toward them.

Some of their faces were sure to hold excitement, others anger. One or two of them would look sorry for what they were about to do.

The cops had to push through a few people who only wanted to watch the scene unfold, reminding Terry of the final rule.

Rule #7: Don't block entrances.

And this was why.