Zack's Uncle Charles was ugly. Big, fat scary-looking nasty that should be in a horror movie. He smelled bad, too. When I sat next to him in the wagon, I nearly threw up my lunch. He leered at me in a perverse manner, his eyes fixed firmly on my figure.
Surprisingly, Zack's mother appeared joyous at having me in the house, as did his father. They liked the fact that I was wearing Mary Anne's old clothes, though they still asked many questions that I did not know how to answer. They would think of me as a sorceress, as Zack had at first when he met me.
Once in church, we took our seats in these uncomfortable-as-all-hell pews, the backrests leaning forward so we were even more uncomfortable than we really needed to be. They were splintery, too, so that pieces of wood got stuck in my skin whenever I tried to shift into a comfortable position in my seat.
During the sermon, Reverend Lyons, stopped talking all at once. He stood as still as a stone statue up there on the pulpit, his eyes turning as hard as old clay. Beside me, I felt Zack twist around in his seat at the first sound of the swooshing. Oh, how in the heck was I going to get back home to my time period? And what the heck was the Klansmen doing busting in on the sermon.
"Sometimes, in Protestant churches, Klansmen make a donation and the priest is initiated for free," Zack whispered, his lips close to my ear. I remembered hearing something close to that in school a few years ago, but I'd paid scant attention to the Ku Klux Klan history. They appeared as ghosts walking quietly down the aisle towards the pulpit. "What does the reverend think?" I asked him.
Zack shrugged. "Probably for them." He smirked bitterly.
The lead Klansmen silently handed the reverend a check and said, "We come bearing for you a gift, Reverend Lyons."
"I thank you very much for it," he muttered, staring down at the envelope as if it were a time bomb.
How could he accept such a thing from Klansmen? I wondered to myself. Beside me, I could feel Charles' eyes on me as he ogled me. The pervert. Had I been living in my time period and that man was staring at me, I would have slapped him good and hard across the kisser! Beside me, Zack's body was stiff as a board. His lips were set in a thin line. I slid my hand into his, not caring that we just met. He was so frightened, I needed to comfort him.
The Klansmen marched out of the church, singing The Old Rugged Cross as they did so. I stared after them, my eyes wide as I witnessed history playing forth before me. I was seeing history being written with lightning before my very own eyes. In the past! Odd how human they were. In all the sepia pictures I've seen of them in textbooks, they just looked like unreal monsters.
Once outside of the church, Charles began boasting about how great the Klan was and how they would overrule this town. He stated many a time that the people of different color needed to be put in their place. Zack finally glared at him and, pulling me close, said, "Don't speak that way in front of Tara. She doesn't need to hear that foul language."
"What? It's the truth!" Charles held out his arms defensively. His bald head shone in the sun.
"It's stupid talk!" Zack snarled. "If you are going to use that type of language, then you should get the heck out of this town. We don't need your racist trash here!"
"Zackary!" Mrs. Ethelwulf's face turned pale from her son's outburst.
"I'm sorry to be blunt, Mother, but I won't stand for that sort of talk, especially not in front of a lady." Zack nodded at me.
"It's all right, Edith. Zack is just set in his ways. Soon, he will come to believe what I say." Charles leered at his nephew, his rotten teeth exposed to the world. His breath smelled. I wondered if I had any Altoids in the pockets of my jeans back in Zack's house. If I did, I would not hesitate to force one down Charles' gullet!
Mr. Ethelwulf cleared his throat, looking more stern than ever. "Let's get home. We have much to do to honor the Lord. It is, after all, Sabbath." He spun around on the heel of his dressy shoe and marched in a soldier-like manner towards the wagon.
I rode between Zack and his little sister, Louella, who asked me questions a mile a minute. Questions I didn't know how to answer without being accused for sorcery. Zack answered them for me.
He was such a good liar.
But the look that was smeared across Charles' face frightened the heck out of me. He looked ready to kill someone.
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