by Eleanor Rigby She found it out in the neighbor’s trash one day. The stripes appeared rather faded, the edges frayed, with a rip in it the size of a baseball. Gouges ran along the handle, looking like the teeth marks of a dog and the metal had been bent at an odd angle on one side. No one else noticed the umbrella. All the grownups saw it as a ratty old piece of junk that belonged nowhere but on the side of the road. To Izzy, it was perfect.
She couldn’t let her mother see it. Mrs. Davis would say it was unfit for use and maybe even unsafe and she would have it back on the curb before Izzy could even cross the threshold of the front door. So Izzy took it around the back of the house where no one would see it. There was a little pond behind her house in the woods. Her mother knew nothing about it; she never went closer to the woods than a safe distance of at least forty feet.
Izzy’s secret was safe. It had to be or else both the girls would be in trouble. Jemma was the only other person who knew about the pond. If anyone else ever found it, the girls wouldn’t be able to be friends anymore, though neither of them understood why. According to Izzy’s parents it wasn’t “proper”. Other people weren’t as nice about it and did mean things to people that looked like Jemma. And Jemma was the sweetest person Izzy knew. She was usually a rather quiet person, but bubbly and easy going in nature. The two girls always had fun whenever they were together, exploring in the woods, having imaginary tea parties, and reading to each other. They had other friends, but they understood each other better than anyone else did. Neither of their parents knew about their friendship; the girls both knew if their parents found out then they would not be allowed to see each other anymore. So they thought it best to keep it hush-hush and to have their place where they could be best friends all they wanted.
Jemma wasn’t there when Izzy arrived. All the better, Izzy thought, she could surprise Jemma with the new addition to their spot.
It stood nestled up under a tall oak-tree, right beside the pond. It was far enough into the woods that no one from the other houses could see it. A little round table big enough for maybe three girls of Izzy’s size rested under the tree, its dark wood weathered and the surface scratched. One of the legs was shorter than the other and there were no chairs, but the table sat close enough to the ground that the old stained seat cushions from Izzy’s house worked perfectly. On the table were two chipped tea cups and saucers and a pile of children’s books that Izzy had long outgrown lay on either side of the table. The umbrella that Izzy carried was the final touch. She stuck it in the ground behind the two cushions and plunked herself onto a cushion to wait for Jemma.
Izzy didn’t have to wait long. Her friend came through the trees on the other side of the small pond within minutes. Her eyes lighted on the umbrella and a huge smile spread across her face.
“Oh Izzy, it’s beautiful!”
Jemma sat beside Izzy and Izzy opened a book for Jemma to read. She was getting much better and it wouldn’t be long before she surpassed the reading level of the children’s books. They read their books and drank their imaginary tea as they had done every day for the past few months. But that was all about to change.
Today was the day that Mrs. Malloy decided to pick berries in the woods behind her house for the pie she was baking for the church bake sale; the same woods that were behind Izzy’s house, at the same time of day the two girls were having their tea and reading lessons. It came as quite a shock to all three persons when Mrs. Malloy came noisily bursting through the woods not ten feet from their little table. The three just looked at each other for an infinite moment, eyes like those of deer caught in headlights. Mrs. Malloy was the first to recover her senses, her beady little eyes quickly assessing the situation and the look of disgust spreading across her long face made it clear that it wasn’t a situation she particularly cared for.
“Ooooh, you are a bad little girl Elizabeth Davis! Your mother’s not going to like this!”
Before either of the girls could say anything or even move a muscle, Mrs. Malloy was bulldozing her way back though the woods, the promise of scandal too enticing for her to worry about brambles or dirtying her new white shoes.
Izzy and Jemma exchanged horrified glances and simultaneously stood up and flew through the woods as fast as they could in opposite directions toward their houses. It took Izzy only a couple minutes to reach her house, but when she opened her back door she saw her mother and a slightly more disheveled Mrs. Malloy standing in her kitchen. Mrs. Malloy had a manic gleam in her eye and gave Izzy a look that clearly said she was in for it. Mrs. Davis stood with her arms crossed, her face closed and alarming.
“Thank you for letting me know, Mrs. Malloy,” Izzy’s mother said in an even tone. “I will deal with my daughter. Let me show you to the door.”
Mrs. Malloy’s face fell. She had clearly been expecting to see the explosion that her information would surly cause in the cool and collected Mrs. Davis. Izzy’s mother took Mrs. Malloy by the elbow and steered her to the front door, all the while Mrs. Malloy stammering things such as “It’s not right” and “The town won’t have it”.
“I assure you Mrs. Malloy I won’t have it. Not in my household. I will attend to Elizabeth at once,” Izzy could hear her mother say in a clipped voice from the front door followed by a loud, definite closing of the door.
“Mama, let me explain,” Izzy tried as soon as Mrs. Davis reentered the kitchen.
“Elizabeth, I don’t want to hear it. Mrs. Malloy told me all I need to know. And even though I’m not fond of that woman, I know she’s not bright enough to go making up gossip like this, which by this time I guarantee the entire block knows about.”
“But Mama, Jemma’s my friend! I’ve been teaching her how to read!”
Izzy’s mother sighed. “Izzy, you’ve always been a good girl, you’re always doing the right thing. But this time it’s not about doing what’s right or wrong. This is dangerous. Most people are afraid of change and a lot of that has been happening lately, starting with the desegregation of Little Rock High last year. A lot of people don’t want this. Though I’ll tell you right now, your father and I aren’t among those people.”
Izzy looked up from the floor at her mother, shocked. “But I thought-”
“No. Your father and I aren’t against this change. We’ve actually been working with some other advocates to get our schools desegregated as well. It hasn’t been easy; we’ve been at it since Little Rock paved the way. But we have to be careful. It’s easy to make a lot of enemies this way, very dangerous ones. I don’t want that for you. You’re just a child. That’s why whatever it is you’re doing has to stop.”
“Mama, please…” Izzy tried once more in vain.
“Izzy, if there were any other way…” but before Mrs. Davis could finish, a thought suddenly popped into her head. One that might just offer the solution she had wished for her daughter.
It hadn’t been that difficult to arrange. The hardest part was getting a hold of Jemma who had been taking refuge in her house since Mrs. Malloy had seen her. But within the next week everything was set for the girls. The town had been buzzing with the scandal that Mrs. Malloy had taken no time in spreading. Izzy’s mother told her not to worry and that she was taking care of the situation in her own way, whatever that meant.
Mr. Lanes was a widower. He was a tough little man of middle age who lived alone in a white house on the edge of town not far from Izzy and Jemma’s houses. It wasn’t common knowledge, but he was discreetly working with the Davises to desegregate the schools. Mr. Lanes kept to himself mostly and the neighbors knew of no ties between him and the Davises other than that they were casual acquaintances. That was why his house was the perfect place for the girls. They met there three times a week under the old striped umbrella Izzy had put in his backyard to signify their spot. They were disturbed by no one seeing as few people ever passed by Mr. Lanes’s house anyway. Sometimes Mr. Lanes would come out and sit with them and talk and he always brought them snacks.
Then one day, several weeks later, Mr. Lanes brought them exciting news. Three months from now, the local middle school was going to be desegregated and Jemma would be able to go to school with Izzy.
During those three months leading up to the desegregation of the school, much excitement ensued. Not all of it good excitement. There were protests and sit-ins, sermons at church against it and public speeches in the park. There were also demonstrations in favor of the change and the girls prepared for the day in their own way. It took a while to convince Jemma’s mother to let her go to school. Like Izzy’s mother, she was afraid for her daughter. But at the same time she wanted nothing more than for Jemma to have an education and the same opportunities as everyone else. So Jemma would be one of the handful of new students to walk in to middle school that day.
That first day was the hardest. It seemed like the entire town was lined up outside the school waiting for them. Most were loudly expressing their feelings, none of which seemed to be in sympathy to the new students. All the policemen from the town were there in addition to about thirty from the National Guard. They kept the onlookers at bay and from reaching the children. It was terrifying for Izzy to watch from the second floor window of the school. She couldn’t walk in with Jemma, though she wished desperately she could be there to help her friend through it. But once Jemma was through the front doors, things became easier. If only a little. Not many of the teachers were fond of the change either. They spoke roughly to the new students, if they even acknowledged their presence at all. But the change was something everyone would have to come to accept eventually. There would be no going back; the world was changing.
It wasn’t easy for most people of Izzy and Jemma’s town to adjust to the new way of life. Like other towns, there were uprisings and violence. As time passed, people came to deal with the desegregation a little bit better. For a while Izzy and Jemma still had to be careful about their friendship; the majority of the town wasn’t quite ready for that just yet.
The girls continued to meet at Mr. Lane’s house, having come to prefer his yard and his company. Then one day the girls arrived at Mr. Lane’s house to find their spot moved to the front under a large willow tree. When they questioned the tough little man, he said simply that it was time. And so the two friends sat and read in the morning sun, shaded by the black and white striped umbrella with its frayed edges and stripes that were so faded it was difficult to tell where on stripe began and the other ended.