TKAM Journal #2

"To Kill A Mockingbird"

Journal #2

Chapters 4 to 7

Perspective: Jem Finch

Dear Journal.


          Boo Radley (or should I say, Mr. Arthur Radley?) is getting me into a mighty lot of trouble. It’s true that I haven’t yet seen him, never mind talked to him before, but the curiosity of his existence draws me to discover the truth. I’ve always longed to see what he looks like (that is, if he isn’t dead and stuffed up the chimney yet). My guess is he’s about a malignant six and a half feet tall with crazy, popping eyes, and blood stained hands. Ms. Stephanie Crawford says she once saw Boo staring at her through her window at the dead of night (not exactly a chameleon, is he?). Anyhow, Dill and I are gonna get him to come out, the polite reason being we think he might enjoy our company. Really, we just want to see him.
          We started our scheming (I mean, planning) one sunny afternoon. Dill came up with the original idea of sending Boo a letter, politely asking him to come out. We were just discussing the final details of our plan when my little sister, Scout, had to come and interrupt. She is always butting into Dill and my conversations. “Go away, Scout. Dill ‘n’ I are busy,” I told her.
          “Will not,” she retorted. “This yard’s as much mine as it is yours, Jem Finch. I got just as much right to play in it as you."
           “If you stay you’ve got to do what we tell you,” said Dill. Scout began quibbling, but eventually agreed and asked what we wanted her to do. I told her our plan. I would attach the note to Boo on the end of a fishing pole. Then I would stand on the sidewalk, carefully out of range of the inhabitants of the house, and stick the end of the pole in the house. Dill would be patrolling the front of the house and Scout would be watching the back lot. If anyone came in the middle of the operation, Dill would ring Mother’s dinner bell.
          “Anyone who’s brave enough to go up and touch the house hadn’t oughta use a fishin’ pole. Why don’t you just knock the front door down?” Scout teased as we walked to the vacant house. I clenched my teeth together. Didn’t she know it was one thing to touch the house and another to contact the inhabitants of the house? Scout and Dill took their places at either side of the house and signaled to me that everything was clear. I carefully began urging the letter through the window. But the darn pole was to short to reach the window. I stretched out as far as possible and tried to put the note on the window sill. It dangled pathetically, swaying and fluttering in the gentle breeze. Just when it was almost there, I heard the bell ringing. My heart hammering, I turned around to see Dill crazily waving the bell in front of Atticus. I felt guilt welling up in me. I’d done wrong, Atticus would be angry (or worse, ashamed), and I’d be in trouble. He asked to see the letter and I reluctantly handed it over.
          “Son, I’m going to tell you something and tell you one more time,” he told me sternly. “Stop tormenting that man. That goes for the other two of you.” He glanced pointedly at Scout and Dill. He told us to stop making fun of him and ignored us when we objected. “You want to be a lawyer, don’t you?” he said before walking stiffly into the house. I cringed. After he had disappeared into the depths of the house, I yelled with all my might I wasn’t sure if I still wanted to be a lawyer. The dead words hung in the air.
          At last, it was Dill’s last day with us; he would be going home to Mississippi the next day. We decided as a final tribute to his stay, we would walk to the window of the Radley place and see if we could sneak a peek inside. “I know what, let’s go for a walk,” Dill yawned. I agreed when he nodded to the house. The vote wasn't unanimous; of course Scout protested but we wore her down, swearing that we were just going to peep in the window. She was getting more like a girl ever day, now. When we reached the street lamp at the Radley place, Scout and I folded our arms together to create a lift. Dill leaped on. Eventually the burden of Dill’s weight made us put him down. I asked him what he saw. “Nothing. Curtains. There’s a teeny light way off somewhere, though. Let’s try the back window,” he urged. We crept around the house. The sun had rapidly faded from our last detour; it was almost dark. Dill stood on the back porch and peered in through the moonlit window. I didn’t see it at first, but a shadow passed me. My heart literally stopped and I bit my tongue to keep from crying out. I flung myself to the gate and through it open, pushing my little sister and Dill through first. My last memory was a shot gun going off close behind us. We rolled under the fence in the school yard and ran, sobbing, as far as we could.
          Now I lay in bed, wishing I hadn’t done that. I have a plan though. I’m gonna get my pants back, which I had lost in the chaos of escaping. The evidence will be disguised and it will be like nothing ever happened.


Sincerely,
          Jeremy Atticus Finch (Jem)