I wonder sometimes at the me that never grew because I grew here and not somewhere else, the me that would have grown elsewhere in place of the self I became. (Tisdale)
Samantha Jocelyn
This is me, BessieJune again, back for another chapter in my story. I don’t much feel like writin’ today, but Miz Suze, she says any writer worth her salt makes herself write every day as a discipline. Be that as it may, mebbe the reason I don’t wanna write this one is because it’s gonna be about Samantha Jocelyn. It’s the hardest one, I think, ’cause I don’t rightly know Samantha Jocelyn enough to write about her. But Matildie, she says to get a hard job out of the way first an’ then you’re home-free, so I’m a’gonna do it.
Samantha Jocelyn reminds me of the only doll I ever had when I was little (have I told you I’m ten?) — somebody give her to my pa and he give her to me so proud-like. It was after my mama died. And I loved that doll. I named her Samantha. She was real old, and her china face was all scarred and marked up, but she was beautiful to me. I made her dresses outa scraps, and took ‘er everwhere with me. Then that blamed no-good Polecat Jackson throwed her down the johnny-house hole when I wouldn’t give him my best cat-eye marble. I like to killed him when I caught him, but it done no good since Samantha was already gone. I still grieve after that doll, almost more’n my ma.
I reckon the reason Samantha Jocelyn reminds me of my Samantha is because her face never changes. It’s just like marble, still and quiet and perfect. She never laughs and altho’ she joins in with the other girls like in the Readings and stuff, she hardly ever says nothin’. Her eyes are so empty it scares me sometimes, and when I say somethin’ to AutumnGlory about that, she just hugs me and says, honey, she’s like a wounded animal, be kind. It don’t cost nothin’ to be kind.
I do know from what the other girls said that Samantha Jocelyn come from a real rich family. I don’t rightly know how she ended up here in Yella Rose, Texas at our schoolhouse, but she’s been here a long time. I reckon it’s her home-like. I never seen her room, but it’s real sparse-like, I think. The girls won’t tell me what happened to her before she come here, but I overheard ’em talkin’ one time about somethin’ really bad that went on in her family, somethin’that her pa done ‘er when she was young, somethin’ so bad that I don’t even wanna talk about it here. I do know that AutumnGlory’s probably right about her bein’ wounded and all. It’s right hard, tho’, to figure out how to be kind to someone like Samantha Jocelyn.
I did get a smile outa her one time when I told her how I beat the poop outa Polecat Jackson. She touched me real soft-like on the shoulder, and said, that’s really good, BessieJune Pruitt. Never let any man ever hurt you.
And that’s real good advice. I never will. I’ll always think of that look in Samantha Jocelyn’s eyes, and I’ll remember.