Lou, however, remained sitting.
"Louisa Mae," Estelle McCoy said again, "stand up and let them see you, honey."
"My name is Lou."
Estelle McCoy's smile went down a bit in wattage. "Yes, um, their father was a very
famous writer named Jack Cardinal."
Here, Billy Davis piped in loudly, "Didn't he die? Somebody say that man's dead."
Lou glared at Billy, who made a face right back at her.
Their teacher now looked completely flustered. "Billy, please. Uh, as I was saying, he
was famous, and I helped teach him. And in my own humble way, I hope mat I had some
influence over his development as a writer. And they do say the early years are the most
important. Anyway, did you know that Mr. Jack Cardinal even signed one of his books in
Washington, for the president of these United States?"
As Lou looked around the room, she could tell this meant absolutely nothing to the
children of the mountain. In fact, mentioning the capital of the Yankee nation was
probably not a smart thing to do. It didn't make her angry that they were not properly in
awe of her father's accomplishments; instead it made Lou pity their ignorance.
Estelle McCoy was ill-prepared for the prolonged silence. "Uh, well, we welcome you,
Louisa Mae, and you too, Oscar. I'm sure you'll do your father proud here, at his ... alma
mater."
Now Lou stood, even as Oz hastily dropped back into his seat, his face down, his eyes
scrunched closed. One could tell he was afraid of whatever it was his sister was about to
do. Lou never did anything in a small way, Oz well knew. It was either both barrels of the
shotgun in your face, or you got to live another day. There was rarely any middle ground
with the girl.
And yet all she said was "My name is Lou." And then she took her seat.
Billy leaned over and said, "Welcome to the mountain, Miss Louisa Mae."
The school day ended at three, and the children didn't rush to go home, since it was
certain only more chores awaited them there. Instead, they milled about in small packs in
the schoolyard, the boys swapping pocket knives, hand-whittled yo-yos, and homemade
burley chew. The girls exchanged local gossip and cooking and sewing secrets, and
talked about boys. Billy Davis did pull-ups on a sapling that had been laid across the low
branches of the walnut tree, to the admiring look of one wide-hipped girl with crooked
teeth, but also rosy cheeks and pretty blue eyes.
As Lou and Oz came outside, Billy stopped his workout and strolled over to them.
"Why, it's Miss Louisa Mae. You been up see the president, Miss Louisa Mae?" he said
in a loud, mocking voice.
"Keep walking, Lou, please," said Oz.
Billy spoke even louder. "Did he get you to sign one of your daddy's books, him being
dead and all?"
Lou stopped. Oz, sensing that further pleading was futile, stepped back. Lou turned to
look at her tormentor.
"What's the matter, you still sore because us Yankees kicked your tail, you dumb
hillbilly?"
The other children, sensing blood, quietly formed a circle to shield from the eyes of Mrs.
McCoy a potentially good fight.
Billy scowled. "You best take that back."
Lou dropped her bag. "You best make me, if you think you can."
"Shoot, I ain't hitting no girl."
This made Lou angrier than ever a thrown fist could have. She grabbed Billy by his
overall straps and threw him to the dirt, where he lay stunned, probably both at her
strength and at her audacity. The crowd moved closer.
"I'll kick your tail if you don't take that back," Lou said, and she leaned down and dug a
finger in his chest.
Oz pulled at her as the crowd closed even tighter, as though a hand becoming a fist.
"Come on, Lou, please don't fight. Please."
Billy jumped up and proceeded to commit a major offense. Instead of swinging at Lou,
he grabbed Oz and threw him down hard.
"No-good stinking northerner."
His look of triumph was short-lived because it ran smack into Lou's bony right fist. Billy
joined Oz on the ground, blood spurting from his nose. Lou was straddling Billy before
the boy could take a breath, both her fists pounding away. Billy, howling like a whipped
dog, swung his arms wildly back. One blow caught Lou on the lip, but she kept slugging
until Billy finally stopped swinging and just covered his face.
Then the seas parted, and Mrs. McCoy poured through this gap. She managed to pull Lou
off Billy, but not without an effort that left her breathing hard.
"Louisa Mae! What would your daddy think?" she said.
Lou's chest rose and fell hard, her hands still balled into mighty, boy-bashing
instruments.
Estelle McCoy helped Billy up. The boy covered bis face with his sleeve, quietly sobbing