Earnell reaches surreptitiously into his book bag, glances around, and then pulls out a small cotton-stuffed doll with blond hair, red horns, and a red-and-green Nightmare on Elm Street sweater. I snatch the doll from him and yell at him as quietly as possible, “Earnell! What is this?! Where on earth did you get this?!”

Earnell lowers his head and whispers in my ear, “I call him Freddy, after Freddy Krueger. It’s a voodoo doll that represents white supremacy. My aunt Pearl gave him to me. She said if I ever find myself in trouble ‘wit dem honkies,’ I can stick needles in it and the ancestral forces will hear my call and come rescue me. Look around, girl, this is a ruse. All these Ivy League negroes conveniently in one place. We’ve got to be on alert and might end up needing this,” he says, pointing at the doll. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell the ancestors to rescue you and the others also. Everyone except that Uncle Tom, Daniel. We’ll leave him with his adopted white tribe.”

I am speechless. Earnell has outdone himself. I am cauterized by the ridiculousness of the moment. I hand Freddy back to Earnell and pull a small pillow from my bag. “I can’t, Earnell. I literally cantable.”

“That’s not a wor—”

“Shut up,” I say, interrupting his annoying correction. “I’m taking a nap. Wake me up when we get there.”

“If we get there,” he replies snidely. “Something tells me that this trip is going to be unforgettable in more ways than one.”

The road narrows and we are soon surrounded by thickets of trees. We don’t plan it, but we all fall silent as the bus comes to a stop in the middle of the woods. I glance over at Daniel, who also looks unnerved. I wonder if his body remembers now, despite his blind allegiance to the mythology of American equality. “Well, what in the by golly has gotten into you all?” Connor, who was correct about me being on his trip, asks when he notices we’ve all grown grim and quiet. I don’t tell Earnell about the clucking or he will never stop clapping.