CHAPTER THREE
SEPTEMBER 11, 1960
I dragged myself to church today as an antidote for my recent lying binge. My tendency to fudge the truth shifted into fifth gear last Friday when I had to miss school to go to the hospital in Greencastle for a check-up. I rode the public bus for the ten-mile trip because Ollie doesn’t drive. To pass time, I entertained a little n***o girl named Martha Jane who I met at the bus depot. I could tell she was scared about traveling alone, probably because of the “No Coloreds” graffiti that was all over the damn bus.
Some folks scowled when I sat in the back of the bus with her, but I figured they could just kiss my keister. On the way to Greencastle, I wove some fat stories about me going to pick oranges in California. Although the orange-picking story was a
