The Forgotten Girl: Chapters 8–16

She went to the Web browser and typed in one of the few legible names on any of the graves back there.

She’d searched for spirits of the snow in vain, knowing that Suga’s legend wouldn’t come up.

The only thing that came up that time was Sampson’s Perpetual Care, where Daniel’s father was buried.

Some segregation occurred in the form of a single, divided cemetery—when this was the case, there were two sets of caretakers to look after their respective races, with Whites usually getting the more attractive plots.

As communities changed, especially through the Great Migration when African Americans fled the Jim Crow South to move to Northern cities, the cemeteries solely for African Americans or the African American spaces in cemeteries were left untended, overgrown, and eventually forgotten.

Iris was immediately transported back to a conversation her mom once had with Mrs. Stone, about how the neighborhood they lived in was once predominately Black.

Her mom just stared at her, trying to figure out if Iris should be reprimanded or congratulated, in private or in public, right now or later.

But Mrs. Rose’s face became solemn. “Do not go back there by yourselves anymore. Do you hear me? You don’t know what could be lurking back there. Anything or anyone could be lurking in those woods. It’s dangerous. Just do your research and let us know if you need help. Do you understand?”

Iris put her fork down, relishing the fact that all eyes were on her, not on whatever cutesy thing Vashti was doing.

It was almost enough to quell her dread completely.

Her fingers were warm where Iris’s were cold and clammy.

Afterward, when they prayed their benediction and all the grown-ups stood around and talked to one another, Iris pulled Daniel to the back of the chapel, behind the last pew.

Daniel sighed, exasperated.

While this one was newer, well manicured, Avery’s felt forgotten. That grave deserved to be recognized.

His mom was at work, so there was no grown-up to buffer if things got weird.

Iris and Daniel looked up to find Heather smugly staring at them.

“There are no cracks in the concrete, or anything. We have everything we need.”
“It’s an eyesore.”

Daniel had agreed to check out the meeting and speak on behalf of their project.

From there, all the girls joined in, doing exactly what Naomi did, but faster, all the stomps, claps, and arm and head motions coming together to make one cohesive beat.

Heather was trying to challenge me with everything I said—even when Chelsea was trying to be receptive.

If Mr. Hammond was intrigued by that part, they needed more historical context.

“I guess the school wasn’t integrated at this point,” Daniel said, looking over the smiling White faces and turning the page.

If there was no trace of Avery even going to this school when she was one of the nine who desegregated it, the same thing was on track to happen to Iris, her step team, her project.

“Someone’s dad is buried in that graveyard,” Daniel had said as they looked through the archives of old newspapers in the library.

She wore a pink, frilly nightgown with a brown Barbie doll on the front.

“I hate how cliquey these things can be.”

“Yeah. He said that they pretty much brushed him off, and ragged on the basketball court and want to spruce it up.”

“I did a great thing, you say? Why have I been forgotten in death?” Avery’s voice went from high-pitched to something deeper, more sinister, and it frightened Iris. What if she lashed out at her?

Avery materialized in front of her.

Avery giggled, a too-fast titter.

But Iris kept playing, kept gathering snow and hurling it through the air. The exertion took her mind off everything that had happened earlier.

“Your sleeping habits have been so fitful lately. Vashti’s, too. Were you on your tablet?”

Iris just nodded, then sank into her mother’s arms, the adrenaline running out of her body.

Mrs. Rose looked at her daughter intently.

“Do you want me to keep the night-light on?” Mrs. Rose tried to ask as casually as possible.