She’d spent the whole weekend in overalls. The Wash ’N’ Fold would be closed for the protest, because Auntie had other work to do. She was busy loading up a wagon with coats and socks for the boys who’d lost everything in the fire.
I was sitting beside Daisy, pressing the button on my pocketwatch and clicking it closed. Despite everything that happened, Mr. Wallace would be proud I was taking charge of my own sovereignty. In spite of everything, Pa would be proud I didn’t let fear stop me from saying what I felt!
“I told Jordan it was happening,” Daisy whispered, careful to lower her voice in case Auntie was listening in. “In case we need muscle.”
“How bad do you think it can get?” I asked.
“Depends on our numbers. The more people that show, the more cops show. And if they’re able to get the word out, people will come from East Egg too. It’s the same way there, you know. The white girls are on track to become teachers and nurses. And the Colored girls...” She sighed deeply as she painted another letter on the sign. “We become maids.”
“We can print flyers,” I said. “I could ask Jay, and he could use the mimeograph at school.”
“Tom’s got one,” Daisy said, offhandedly. “I’ll use it at work.”
“Won’t he be suspicious as to why you’re making flyers for a radical protest at his house?”
Daisy laughed with sudden amusement, as if the irony hadn’t occurred to her. “I suppose it would be suspicious, but I don’t intend for him to find out. Tom acts nicely but he doesn’t seem interested in me, unless it’s time to boss me around or throw his virtuous ideas at someone. He notices me when he needs me. Otherwise, I have free rein of the house.”
“And if you attend the protest... aren’t you afraid it might get you fired?” I asked.
Daisy looked amused again as she painted. “I’m not tied to one job. I’ll find another rich man to work for if I lose it, but enough about that. We need to make a scene for the protest. I say we take theWhites Onlysigns down from every business in Manhattan.”
“Nick?” Auntie called, dropping two lumpy burlap bags beside me. “Can you give these to your friends who need them when you see them next?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I answered, half distracted. Late autumn was here, with winter soon approaching, and the Colored boys of West Egg were waiting in lines at shelters or spending their last dollars on bus tickets back down South. I was fortunate enough to have relatives here. Not everyone was so lucky.
I still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched and targeted. It took a lot to make it through the days, but somehow, I was doing it, with the help of frequent escapes to gather my thoughts in private.
I was picking up the bags to walk around to the front of the house when I found Jay standing at the bottom of the stoop.
I dropped the bags to my side. I hadn’t seen him since he’d disappeared into the crowd at the dance. It felt like a lifetime ago. But here he was in a wool coat, breath misting in the air, the cold paling his chiseled features.
“Nick... thank goodness,” he exhaled, relief washing over him when he saw me. “Oh, thank goodness.”
“Thank goodness what?” I questioned, not knowing what to make of this visit.
“Well...” Jay pulled out a crumpled piece of newspaper from his coat pocket and began reading off a statement, his voice stiff.“The Blue House reconstruction will be postponed through the spring semester with hopes to have new lodging by the start of the next school year.”He looked up at me. “I wasn’t sure if you were still here—in the city, I mean. But then I snuck your address from the admission records.”
I couldn’t process Jay’s relief at my presence with the rest of his news.
Next school year? That wasn’t good enough. “Really?” I muttered. “That’s what they’re giving them? It’s getting colder. People need homesnow.”
“I asked my father if there could be space made in the White House, and he just said no,” Jay said, shaking his head. His frustration was raw. “I hate him sometimes.”
I wanted to say something about his troubles with his father, but I couldn’t comfort him—not when I knew Gatsby had the power to change things but chose not to.
“There’s a protest coming up,” I said, to avoid the impending silence. “Do you want to come?”
Jay’s eyes sparked with rebellion. “I’ve never done that before,” he admitted sheepishly. “But yeah, I would go. This fire’s worth screaming about.”
He’d stand against his father, and that meant something to me. Jay wasn’t just a puppet. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to know that until now.
In that moment, the awkwardness of our dance became less important than the fact that we could fight side-by-side when it truly mattered.
“I also...” Jay hesitated, words seeming foggy to him. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable at the dance. Sorry if I did.”
I stood there blinking, somewhat taken off guard by his sincerity. “Oh, it’s fine,” I said. “You didn’t—I mean, I’m the one that ran off, after all. I’m the odd one.”
“Okay,” he said, nodding, with a quiet laugh. “Okay.”
