THIRTY-TWO HOURS AFTER Hattie and her mother and sisters crept through the Georgia woods to the train station, thirty-two hours on hard seats in the commotion of the Negro car, Hattie was startled from a light sleep by the train conductor’s bellow, “Broad StreetStation, Philadelphia!” Hattie clambered from the train, her skirt still hemmed with Georgia mud, the dream of Philadelphia round as a marble in her mouth and the fear of it a needle in her chest. Hattie and Mama, Pearl and Marion climbed the steps from the train platform up into the main hall of the station. It was dim despite the midday sun. The domed roof arched. Pigeons cooed in the rafters. Hattie was only fourteen then, slim as a finger. She stood with her mother and sisters at the crowd’sedge, the four of them waiting for a break in the flow of people so they too might move toward the double doors at the far end of the station. Hattie stopped into the multitude. Mama called, “Come back! You’ll be lost in all those people. You’ll be lost!” Hattie looked back in panic; she thought her mother was right behind her. The crowd was too thick for her to turn back, and she was borne along on the current of people. She gained the double doors and was pushed out onto a long sidewalk that ran the length of the station.

The main thoroughfare was congested with more people than Hattie had ever seen in one place. The sun was high. Automobile exhaust hung in the air alongside the tar smell of asphalt softening in the heat and the sickening odor of garbage rotting. Wheels rumbled on the paving stones, engines revved, paperboys called the headlines. Across the street a man in dirty clothes stoodon the corner wailing a song, his hands at his sides, palms upturned.Hattieresisted the urge to cover her ears to block the rushing city sounds. Shesmelled the absenceof trees before she saw it. Things were bigger inPhiladelphia—that was true—and therewasmore of everything, too much of everything. But Hattie did not see apromised land in thistumult. It was, she thought, only Atlanta on a largerscale. She could manage it. But even asshe declared herself adequate to thecity, her knees knocked under her skirt and sweat rolleddown her back. Ahundred people had passed her in the few moments she’dbeen standing outside,but none of them were her mother and sisters. Hattie’s eyes hurt with the effort of scanningthe faces of the passersby.

A cart at the end of the sidewalk caught her eye. Hattie had neverseen a flower vendor’scart. A white man sat on a stool with hisshirtsleeves rolled and his hat tipped forwardagainst the sun. Hattie set hersatchel on the sidewalk and wiped her sweaty palms on herskirt. A Negro womanapproached the cart. She indicated a bunch of flowers. The white manstood—he did not hesitate, his body didn’t contortinto a posture of menace—and took theflowers from abucket. Before wrapping them in paper, he shook the water gently from thestems.The Negro woman handed him the money. Had their hands brushed?

As the woman with the flowers took her change and moved to put itin her purse, she upset threeof the flower arrangements. Vases and blossomstumbled from the cart and crashed on to thepavement. Hattie stiffened, waitingfor the inevitable explosion. She waited for the otherNegroes to step back andaway from the object of the violence that was surely coming. Shewaited for themoment in which she would have to shield her eyes from the woman andwhateverhorror would ensue. The vendor stooped to pick up the mess. The Negrowoman gestured

apologetically and reached into her purse again, presumably to payfor what she’d damaged. Ina couple of minutes it was allsettled, and the woman walked on down the street with her nosein the paper coneof flowers, as if nothing had happened.

Hattie looked more closely at the crowd on the sidewalk. TheNegroes did not step into thegutters to let the whites pass and they did notstare doggedly at their own feet. Four Negrogirls walked by, teenagers likeHattie, chatting to one another. Just girls in conversation,giggling and easy,the way only white girls walked and talked in the city streets ofGeorgia.Hattie leaned forward to watch them progress down the block. At last,her mother and sistersexited the station and came to stand next to her. “Mama,” Hattie said. “I’llnever go back.Never.”