Forever

Part 2

GEORGIA, November 1855

            Clara raced down the dirt road, headed toward John's house. Ever since they met on that hot day five years ago, John and Clara had played together every day. Not a day passed when one didn't think of the other, and they were constantly visiting each other. Today it was Clara's turn to go to John's house.

            She skidded to a stop at the dusty driveway, then ran up and around the back of the house. Seeing John's spare horse in the stable, she hopped on and rode out to the fields, the cool November breeze making her long hair dance behind her. Clara spotted John on his horse, standing on a hill above the pastures. There was a single tree providing shade from the brutal sun on the hill. Even in November, it was impossibly hot.

            "John!" Clara shouted in greeting and urged her horse to go faster. They galloped up the hill and the horse settled side by side with John's. He smiled when he saw her. "Hi, Clara."

            Clara could sense something was wrong. "John? Is something the matter?"

            John stared down at the ground and sighed. "No. I'm fine. Everything's fine."

            "No, it's not." Clara put her hand on his arm comfortingly. "What's goin' on, John? You can tell me, I'm your friend, ain't I?"

            "Yeah, yeah, of course, Clara," John said, brushing her hand away. "I just don't want to talk about it."

            "Talkin' will make you feel better," Clara offered.

            "No, Clara, it won't," John snapped, then rode away down the hill toward the house, leaving Clara alone.

            "John!" The stubborn girl wasn't about to let him go that easily. She directed the horse down the hill at full speed, quickly catching up to John and riding next to him.

            He shot her an annoyed glance. "Leave me alone, Clara." He sped up his pace until he reached the stables, then leaped off the horse and tied it up. He glanced back at Clara, who was still where he'd left her by the pond, then went inside the house.

            Clara sighed and rode the rest of the way to the stables, securing her horse next to John's. She considered following him inside, but decided against it, knowing he wanted to be left alone. With one last glance at John's house, she started back toward Alaska, staring at the ground the entire walk.

            When she arrived back home, Clara went straight to her bedroom, closing and locking the door behind her. She flopped on her bed, staring out the window at the workers in the fields. Sometimes she felt bad for all those people; they worked all day, from dawn till dusk, with no pay, little food, and only occasional breaks. All day in the blazing hot sun. Clara had tried asking her father if she could bring the workers food, but he'd scolded her and told her to never ask such a thing. He said that they were nothing more than property, like cattle. Clara didn't see them that way.

             "I don't understand," she'd said. "They look like people. They look just like us, Daddy."

            Her father had looked appalled. "They ain't a thing like us! Don't you go sayin' things like that, now. Don't bring it up again."

            That was a year ago, and Clara still didn't understand why the workers were treated so badly. Did they do something wrong? Surely not all of them had.

            Clara shrugged and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling above her, decorated with little paper stars. She thought about John, and how he'd seemed sad today. She wondered what had been bothering him.