The Help

by Kathryn Stockett

“Be nice to the little colored girls when you’re down there,” Mother said to me one time and I remember looking at her funny, saying, “Why wouldn’t I be?” But Mother never explained.

We all know about these laws, we live here, but we don’t talk about them.

There are some racists in this town,” Miss Leefolt say. Miss Hilly nod her head, “Oh, they’re out there.” After while, they get up and drive off together.

Everyone’s asleep in this town in every way possible.

It was tiring and frustrating, trying to wrap each ornament the way Mother likes, to get them ready for next year. I don’t let myself question the futility of it.

“This one, this is for the white lady. You tell her we love her, like she’s our own family.”

“Skeeter, Louvenia is the bravest person I know. Even with all her own troubles, she sits down and

talks to me. She helps me get through my days. When I read what she wrote about me, about helping her with her grandson, I’ve never been so grateful in my life. It was the best I’d felt in months.”