I live in the town of Maycomb County, Alabama. Always have and probably always will. I was 11 the summer that it all started. The summer that Dill came to me and Scout, and our adventures took off. Maycomb may be boring but there was always one part of it that had me curious, the Radleys. I had kept my distance my entire life, that was, until Dill came. He was interested too, and unlike me, he planned on doing something about it. It started off small, we’d play games as the Radleys, talk about what we thought they did inside their mysterious house that they never left. Dill and Scout even got me to touch the Radley Place. However, soon enough Dill and I found ourselves way in over our heads and we were taking Scout with us.
“Don’t make a sound,” (Lee, 69) I instructed Scout. “Don’t get a in a row of collards whatever you do, they’ll wake the dead.” (Lee, 69)
Cautiously Dill, Scout and I made our way up towards the Radley’s fence. I motioned for Scout, who had fallen behind, to hurry up and come join us already. Together, we moved towards the gate. I, being the oldest, and bravest, reached out and touched it. The gate creaked and I yanked my hand away. If the Radleys woke up, we’d all soon be dead.
“Spit on it,” (Lee, 70) Dill urged quietly.
“You’ve got us in a box, Jem,” (Lee, 70) Scout complained. “We can’t get out of here so easy.” (Lee, 70)
Scout always fussed when she was scared, it was her way of making an excuse to not do something. This was just like when school started. Scout was so afraid that she told Atticus that school was useless and that she could learn everything she needed to know right from our backyard. Atticus did not approve.
“Sh-h. Spit on it, Scout.” (Lee, 70) I directed, cutting her off from whining even more.
We all spat and spat until our mouths were as dry as deserts, and I gently pushed the gate open. I let a sigh of relief escape as it swung open smoothly. We made it into the backyard.
If you thought that the Radley’s front yard was scary enough, then the back of the house ought to terrify you. There was a rotting old covered porch that ran along the entire backside, cracks in the wood went through the whole thing, some splitting the planks open six inches wide. One touch with your hand and you’d probably end up with a hundred splinters. Up the porch steps, there were two doors on either end and two darkened windows in between. Instead of fixing the broken down column that was to the right side of the porch, the Radleys had simply shoved a plank in it’s place to support the roof. There was even a rusty old stove in the corner that had clearly not been used since I was born or maybe longer.
Dill crept over towards the house to make sure that we were all clear and when he had done a thorough scan of our surroundings and confirmed we were safe, Scout and I followed his path and met him alongside the window. Even after my recent growth spurt, the window sill was still a few inches above me. I guess I wasn’t going to get to be the one that sees inside after all.
“Give you a hand up,” (Lee, 70) I suggested to Dill.
Scout and I made a seat with our arms and hoisted Dill up, he grabbed the sill and peered inside.
After a good ten seconds of struggling I finally urged, “Hurry, we can’t last much longer.” (Lee, 70)
It was obvious that I was the only one holding up Dill, Scout hadn’t even broken a sweat. My arms were feeling tired and weak. I was about to collapse when Dill whacked Scout and me on the shoulder to let him down. I practically dropped him, which could’ve caused enough commotion to wake the Radleys up.
“What’d you see?” (Lee, 70) I whispered out of breath.
“Nothing. Curtains. There’s a little teeny light way off somewhere, though.” (Lee, 70)
“Let’s get away from here, let’s go ‘round in back again.” (Lee, 71) I said heading to the back again.
It was then that I realized my only shot at seeing the Radleys would be through the windows on the porch. Without hesitation I put my foot down hard on the bottom step causing it to screech loudly. I froze waiting to hear movement from inside, but when there wasn’t any, I went ahead and gently placed my foot on the next step. The step made no sound. Not wanting to risk another squeaky step, I skipped the next two and went directly onto the porch, but just barely. I hung on the porch by the edge of my feet, wavering, trying to find my balance. When I had gained enough momentum I pushed forward off of my toes and landed safely on my knees. I then crawled over to the window and popped my head up so I could see in.
I could make out a few things in the dark room, a couch with lots of tears in it, the stuffing poking out, a fireplace, with no logs in it or any sign that there had ever been a fire lit there, a rug, mostly intact but with some pieces of cloth astray and if I squinted I could make out what seemed to be a kitchen table with four chairs off in the next room. I didn’t get much time to look though, in a mere matter of seconds something appeared in the window, blocking my view. I looked up and met the cold stare of a pair of eyes glaring back at me. They were the darkest brown I had ever seen, almost black. The man was wearing jean overalls and a stained white shirt underneath. He was terrifying, he was Nathan Radley.
I awoke to the harsh feeling of the cruel cold air rushing over my no longer warm body.
“Wake up, Jem. Wake up, come on now.”
It was Atticus, sounding panicked and not like his normally calm and collected self.
I blinked giving my eyes a moment to adjust. Hovering above me was my father, my blankets in his hand.
“What’s wrong -” I started
“No time for questions, let’s go I have your shoes, put them on while I wake up Scout.”
Leaving the room before I could protest anymore, I slipped on my shoes, and wondered what was possibly such a big deal that I had to wake up while it was still dark out. It dawned on me that something must have been very wrong. I dashed out of bed and over to the window. It was then that I saw Miss Maudie’s house ablaze, fire shooting out of her dining room windows, every second the fire grew larger. I watched, gaping at the sight right next door, the sound of sirens filling my ears.
Atticus was at my door again, this time with Scout in arms.
“Now listen, both of you. Go down and stand in front of the Radley Place. Keep out of the way, do you hear? See which way the wind’s blowing?” (Lee, 92)
Worried, I decided to speak up, “Atticus, reckon we oughta start moving the furniture out?” (Lee, 92)
“Not yet, son. Do as I tell you. Run now. Take care of Scout, you hear? Don’t let her out of your sight.” (Lee, 92)
It occurred to me that I was in charge now, I was the man who was going to protect his family, even if it meant just watching his little sister. Atticus was counting on me now, and I was going to make him proud.
“C’mon Scout,” I said taking her hand, “You hear him right? I’m gonna take care of you.”
And with that, we set off, watching the fire engulf Miss Maudie’s house, men and cars crowding the street while they sent their wives away with the children.
“Why don’t they hurry, why don’t they hurry . . .” (Lee, 92) and as if someone had heard me, I soon got my answer.
Coming over the hill, the Maycomb Fire Truck was making its way, slowly. It must have been killed by the cold and a large group of men were pushing the truck towards the fire.
“Oh-h Lord, Jem . . .” (Lee, 92) Scout muttered.
I put my arm around Scout and tried my best to be reassuring. “Hush, Scout.” I said. “It ain’t time to worry yet. I’ll let you know when.” (Lee, 92)
Truth be told, I was way past worried, I was scared. But I had to be strong for the both of us, and I wasn’t gonna let Scout know that I had my doubts.
“Come on, Scout,” I whispered. “Don’t pay any attention to her, just hold your head high and be a gentleman.” (Lee, 135) We were on our way to spend my 12th birthday money at the toy store and buy a steam engine for me and a baton for Scout. She deserved it after what we put up with this week. The only downside to this trip was that we had to walk past cranky old Mrs. Henry Lafayette Dubose’s house, she always had something rude to say to us. I could already feel my blood start to bubble but I wasn’t going to let old Mrs. Dubose push me over the edge. Plus, I had to stay calm to make sure Scout stayed calm. She seemed to be clenching her fists a little too tight. I had just started to walk away when Mrs. Dubose decided that she wasn’t quite done insulting us Finch’s.
“Not only a Finch waiting on tables but one in the courthouse lawing for ni**ers!” (Lee, 135)
My stride stiffened, Scout and I had put up with enough about Atticus defending Tom Robinson from the kids at school, but now our neighbors too? My blood started boiling up again and this time I didn’t try to stop it. I turned to face her and reply when Mrs. Dubose gave her final say.
“Yes indeed, what has this world come to when a Finch goes against his raising? I’ll tell you!” (Lee, 135) She took a long breath in preparing her body for the words she was about to say. “Your father’s no better than the ni**ers and trash he works for!” (Lee, 135)
I could feel my face burn and turn crimson, my blood was boiling over like a volcano about to erupt. I could feel Scout pulling at my sleeve, but I had no clue how she was staying this controlled.
I walked away, feeling defeated, but knowing that there was no way I could have ever live down the fact that I had beaten up an old lady.
All I could think about on the way to the store was Mrs. Dubose. It was one thing when kids insulted us but an adult? How could she? I thought adults weren’t supposed to judge! I thought adults were polite and kind. It made buying my steam engine a whole lot less enjoyable. I didn’t even notice when Scout thanked me for buying her the baton she wanted or when she asked me if I was ok.
On the way back, I suggested that we take a different path, to make sure that we didn’t run into Mrs. Dubose again, but Scout complained and whined that it would add an extra two miles and that it wouldn’t be worth it. Reluctantly, I agreed. I wanted to get home fast anyway.
When we passed Mrs. Dubose’s I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Something inside me just snapped. All I remember was snatching Scout’s baton from her hand and running as fast as I could into Mrs. Dubose’s yard. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. All I could think about was all the nasty, horrible things Mrs. Dubose said and all the taunts and teases the school kids yelled at me. I forgot all about being a gentleman and became a mad man.
I whacked Mrs. Dubose’s camellia bushes with the baton and yanked all the tops of the camellias. Every insult fueled me to keep going. Everytime she sneered at me or made fun of my family or insulted my mother. Everytime she smacked her old lady lips together in disgust. Everytime she disapproved of what I was doing or the way I was acting. A mere 3 minutes later, her yard was scattered with them, the tops of every single camellia in her garden, the mess I had made; and it felt so good. I don’t know what prompted me to do this next part but I then took Scout’s brand new baton, bent it with my hands, placed it on my knee, snapped it in half, and threw it on the ground. I could hear Scout shrieking now, begging me to stop, tears running down her face.
I didn’t care then, I told Scout I didn’t care and that I’d do it again if I ever got the chance, that I’d yank out her hair if she didn’t shut up. She didn’t shut up. I kicked her. She lost her balance and fell on her face. I dragged her up off the ground and she looked at me in horror. She had stopped crying now. I think she was in shock over what I had done to her. She looked scared, scared of me. I was sorry now, but I didn’t say anything.