At recess, when George Hill asked her to be It for Hot-Grease-in-the-Kitchen, she shook her head.
“I can’t do anything any more,” she said, and she sat on the steps and watched the boys tumble in the dust. “I can’t even walk.”
When she could bear it no longer, she joined the knot of girls under the live oak in a corner of the schoolyard.
Ada Belle Stevens laughed and made room for her on the long cement bench. “Why ain’tcha playin’?” she asked.
“Don’t wanta,” said Jean Louise.
Ada Belle’s eyes narrowed and her white brows twitched. “I bet I know what’s the matter with you.”
“What?”
“You’ve got the Curse.”
“The what?”
“The Curse. Curse o’ Eve. If Eve hadn’t et the apple we wouldn’t have it. You feel bad?”
“No,” said Jean Louise, silently cursing Eve. “How’d you know it?”
“You walk like you was ridin’ a bay mare,” said Ada Belle. “You’ll get used to it. I’ve had it for years.”
“I’ll never get used to it.”
It was difficult. When her activities were limited Jean Louise confined herself to gambling for small sums behind a coal pile in the rear of the school building. The inherent dangerousness of the enterprise appealed to her far more than the game itself; she was not good enough at arithmetic to care whether she won or lost, there was no real joy in trying to beat the law of averages, but she derived some pleasure from deceiving Miss Blunt. Her companions were the lazier of the Old Sarum boys, the laziest of whom was one Albert Coningham, a slow thinker to whom Jean Louise had rendered invaluable service during six-weeks’ tests.
One day, as the taking-in bell rang, Albert, beating coal dust from his breeches, said, “Wait a minute, Jean Louise.”
She waited. When they were alone, Albert said, “I want you to know I made a C-minus this time in geography.”
“That’s real good, Albert,” she said.
“I just wanted to thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Albert.”
Albert blushed to his hairline, caught her to him, and kissed her. She felt his wet, warm tongue on her lips, and she drew back. She had never been kissed like that before. Albert let her go and shuffled toward the school building. Jean Louise followed, bemused and faintly annoyed.
She only suffered a kinsman to kiss her on the cheek and then she secretly wiped it off; Atticus kissed her vaguely wherever he happened to land; Jem kissed her not at all. She thought Albert had somehow miscalculated, and she soon forgot.
As the year passed, often as not recess would find her with the girls under the tree, sitting in the middle of the crowd, resigned to her fate, but watching the boys play their seasonal games in the schoolyard. One morning, arriving late to the scene, she found the girls giggling more surreptitiously than usual and she demanded to know the reason.
“It’s Francine Owen,” one said.“Francine Owen? She’s been absent a couple of days,” said Jean Louise.
“Know why?” said Ada Belle.
“Nope.”
“It’s her sister. The welfare’s got ’em both.”
Jean Louise nudged Ada Belle, who made room for her on the bench.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s pregnant, and you know who did it? Her daddy.”
Jean Louise said, “What’s pregnant?”
A groan went up from the circle of girls. “Gonna have a baby, stupid,” said one.
Jean Louise assimilated the definition and said, “But what’s her daddy got to do with it?”
Ada Belle sighed, “Her daddy’s the daddy.”
Jean Louise laughed. “Come on, Ada Belle—”
“That’s a fact, Jean Louise. Betcha the only reason Francine ain’t is she ain’t started yet.”
“Started what?”
“Started ministratin’,” said Ada Belle impatiently. “I bet he did it with both of ’em.”
“Did what?” Jean Louise was now totally confused.
The girls shrieked. Ada Belle said, “You don’t know one thing, Jean Louise Finch. First of all you—then if you do it after that, after you start, that is, you’ll have a solid baby.”
“Do what, Ada Belle?”
Ada Belle glanced up at the circle and winked. “Well, first of all it takes a boy. Then he hugs you tight and breathes real hard and then he French-kisses you. That’s when he kisses you and opens his mouth and sticks his tongue in your mouth—”
A ringing noise in her ears obliterated Ada Belle’s narrative. She felt the blood leave her face. Her palms grew sweaty and she tried to swallow. She would not leave. If she left they would know it. She stood up, trying to smile, but her lips were trembling. She clamped her mouth shut and clenched her teeth.
“—an’ that’s all there is to it. What’s the matter, Jean Louise? You’re white as a hain’t. Ain’t scared’ja, have I?” Ada Belle smirked.
“No,” said Jean Louise. “I just don’t feel so hot. Think I’ll go inside.”
She prayed they would not see her knees shaking as she walked across the schoolyard. Inside the girls’ bathroom she leaned over a washbasin and vomited.
There was no mistaking it, Albert had stuck out his tongue at her. She was pregnant.