Red

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Red came to a dead stop at the edge of the garden. “I don’t know who you think you are,” she said, her voice firm. “But those are Miss Lydia’s strawberries.”

“I’m Virginia,” said the colored girl, getting up and brushing off her dress. “Matilda is my mama, and Miss Lydia said I could pick ’em anytime I wanted.”

They stood facing each other in the pounding August heat, and Red’s temper wilted as she wiped her freckled face with her sleeve and pulled off her hat to use as a fan. “Well, I guess that’s okay.” She shoved the straw hat back onto her head and sat between rows, picking a particularly juicy berry and plopping it into her mouth. The strawberry patch at the back of the property was shut out from the rest of the world, hemmed in by stately hedges.

“Are you Yvette?” asked Virginia. She was a gravely pretty girl with dark brown skin and braids all over her head, clipped with colorful barrettes.

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