Roy Morelli Steps Up to the Plate by Thatcher Heldring

Author:Thatcher Heldring [Heldring, Thatcher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-375-89343-8
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2010-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

“So,” said Camille Monday afternoon. “Dred and Irene. Who wants to go first?”

“I will,” said Valerie.

Camille smiled. “Great! Why don’t you tell me about yourself, Irene?”

Valerie sat up straight and folded her hands on the table. “My name is Irene Sanford Emerson,” she said. “And I lived in the 1800s. I’m dead now.” She flipped her hair back. “Obviously.”

Camille nodded. “Where did you live, Irene?”

“A lot of places,” Valerie said. “But mostly in Missouri.”

“Were you married?”

“My husband was a doctor in the army. We moved around a lot.”

I sank in my seat. Valerie knew way more about her person than I knew about mine. Talk about showing someone up!

“Who is we?” Camille asked.

“Our family. And our slaves.” Valerie paused. “That sounds weird to say.”

“It wasn’t weird to Irene,” Camille said.

“Well, one of them was named Dred Scott, and he wanted to be freed, but I wouldn’t do it.”

Camille smiled. “You did great, Irene.” She looked at me. “Can we hear from Dred Scott now?”

“That’s me,” I said. “Dred Scott.”

“What’s your story, Dred?” Camille asked.

“Um, I was a guy. I lived a long time ago. I died.”

Camille gestured for me to keep talking. “Where did you live?”

“In America?”

“Time out,” said Camille. “Roy, I gave you an assignment. You were supposed to find out who Dred Scott was. Now tell me one fact about yourself or go out there and look one up.”

“Okay,” I said. “He was a slave. I mean, I was a slave. I had to do whatever anyone told me to do. Life sucked. I died.”

Camille snapped her fingers three times. “Work with me, Dred. Tell me what you did about your situation.”

“I can’t remember. I’m sorry. I’m not good at this.”

“Roy, stop trying to remember facts and just imagine you are Dred Scott. How would you feel if you were him?”

“I don’t know how I would feel. All I know is I was a slave and I didn’t want to be one.”

“Good,” said Camille. “You’re a slave and you would rather be free. What would you do?”

“I’d run away,” I said.

“Is that what you did?”

“I guess so.”

“Is that what happened, Irene?” Camille asked.

Valerie came at me guns blazing. “You didn’t run away, you dumb slave. You tried to buy your freedom, from me. Because I owned you. And I wouldn’t let you. So we went to court. And you lost.”

“That’s garbage. I should have been free.”

“Why?” asked Camille.

“Because I lived in Missouri,” I replied, remembering more of what Sara had said the other night. “And that was a free state. But this overlord kept me anyway because she’s greedy and heartless.”

“Hey,” said Valerie. “I was just following the law. You were my property. There’s nothing greedy about a person wanting to keep her own property. How else was I supposed to make money?”

“Ever hear of a job?” I asked.

“Remember, this is the 1850s,” Camille said. “There weren’t a lot of ways for a woman to make a living.”

“How am I supposed to know that?” I asked, wishing she would stop looking down on me just because I didn’t love history like everyone else did.

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