17
Soon after Johnny Tucker’s departure in his convoy of Confederate-clad vehicles, the crowd had begun to thin, the bicyclists were headed back home, and my energy was waning. I felt like I could sleep for days, but I didn’t have that luxury. Tomorrow was the Jennings’s Family Reunion, and I had a buttload of potato salad to make.
We knew that Johnny Tucker’s rally was happening at the old high school football stadium downtown that night, but Stephen told us it was best if we didn’t show up, and he didn’t get even a second of argument from me. I knew we’d hear about it on the news anyway.
After picking up twenty pounds of potatoes, a jar of mayo as big as my head, and one of those giant jars of parsley flakes, everyone headed back to the safe house. Stephen had agreed to share the addr
