The Lucky Ones

Award-winning author Linda Williams Jackson pulls from her own childhood in the Mississippi Delta to tell the story of Ellis Earl, who dreams of a real house, food enough for the whole family—and to be someone.

It’s 1967, and eleven-year-old Ellis Earl Brown has big dreams. He’s going to grow up to be a teacher or a lawyer—or maybe both—and live in a big brick house in town. There’ll always be enough food in the icebox, and his mama won’t have to run herself ragged looking for work as a maid in order to support Ellis Earl and his eight siblings and niece, Vera. So Ellis Earl applies himself at school, soaking up the lessons that Mr. Foster teaches his class—particularly those about famous colored people like Mr. Thurgood Marshall and Miss Marian Wright—and borrowing books from his teacher’s bookshelf. When Mr. Foster presents him with a copy of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Ellis Earl is amazed to encounter a family that’s even worse off than his own—and is delighted by the Buckets’ very happy ending. But when Mama tells Ellis Earl that he might need to quit school to help support the family, he wonders if happy endings are only possible in storybooks. Around the historical touchstone of Robert Kennedy’s southern “poverty tour,” Linda Williams Jackson pulls from her own childhood in the Mississippi Delta to tell a detail-rich and poignant story with memorable characters, sure to resonate with readers who have ever felt constricted by their circumstances.Drawing from her own childhood experiences, Jackson (Midnight without a Moon, 2017) creates a compelling story about racism, poverty, and the power of community to help lift people up. . . an excellent recommendation for any young reader looking for new books about the civil rights era.
—Booklist (starred review)

Jackson draws on her personal history to show real people behind Kennedy’s historic visit. . . She successfully presents individuals who, despite grinding poverty, nurtured hopes and dreams, and she highlights those like Mr. Foster and his church community who shared what they had with those in need. . . . Rich in detail; offers readers immediacy and connection.
—Kirkus Reviews

Ellis Earl, Mr. Foster, the Brown brood, and their predominantly Black community are astutely characterized, imbued with eclectic and lovable personalities. Jackson (A Sky Full of Stars) delivers a touching novel that resonates today, centering the crucial impact of community on one family’s financial precarity.
—Publishers Weekly

An inspiring story about a tight-knit family, The Lucky Ones makes real the people who lived, worked, and grew up in the Mississippi Delta amid the tumult of the 1960s.
—Foreword Reviews

Poverty and hunger are powerfully evident in this story which is based on author Linda Jackson’s experiences growing up in rural Mississippi during the 60s. . . . The southern dialect of the Black characters is spot on and helps lend the story a sense of place.
—School Library Connection

An engaging portrait of a boy who dreams of becoming a lawyer or teacher as a way to lift his family out of poverty in this novel inspired by Robert F. Kennedy's 1967 'Poverty Tour' of the Mississippi Delta. . . The author paints a vivid portrait of what it was like to be this poor.
—The Buffalo NewsLinda Williams Jackson is the author of Midnight Without a Moon, which was an American Library Association Notable Children’s Book, a Jane Addams Honor Book for Peace and Social Justice, and a Washington Post Summer Book Club Selection. Her second book, A Sky Full of Stars, received a Malka Penn Honor for an outstanding children’s book addressing human rights issues and was a Bank Street College Best Book of the Year. Born and raised in Rosedale, Mississippi, Linda Williams Jackson lives in Southaven, Mississippi, with her family.Wilsonville, Mississippi
1967
Friday, March 17
A Whole Moon Pie to Myself
 
“Thank you, Mr. Foster!”
   Ellis Earl Brown waved goodbye to his teacher, then trekked with his sister Carrie Ann along the dusty path toward home. Mr. Julius Foster always offered to drive his lime-green station wagon all the way to the end of the winding path to drop Ellis Earl and Carrie Ann off directly in front of their house. But regardless of how much eight-year-old Carrie Ann begged him to accept the ride, eleven-year-old Ellis Earl always adamantly refused, even when the sky threatened rain, as it did today. Ellis Earl was grateful that Mr. Foster was kind enough to include them in his carpool of nine students to whom he gave a ride to and from school each day, but Ellis Earl didn’t want the other students to see the place they called home.
   Because it was Friday, Carrie Ann began skipping down the road singing a made-up song about how glad she was that she didn’t have to get up for school the next morning. But Ellis Earl dreaded the weekend. The weekend meant two whole days with no school and no grand selection of books from Mr. Foster’s shelf, except the one book Ellis Earl was allowed to take home to read to his younger siblings and the one book he was allowed to take for himself.
   Today he wasn’t at all happy with his selection. Ellis Earl preferred the books with lots of pictures. But his friend Philip loved the Hardy Boys mysteries, and this is what he had challenged Ellis Earl to take home for the weekend. Ellis Earl wasn’t interested in reading The Secret of the Old Mill. But not wanting to be called a chicken, he had accepted the challenge and brought the book home. For certain, he’d do his best to try to read it, as he longed to read chapter books like Philip. But deep down he knew that his mind would soon wander away from the words if there were no pictures to guide him along.
   Besides the absence of Mr. Foster’s collection of books, there would also be the absence of food—sometimes not even a piece of bread—unless Ellis Earl’s family went to visit their grandparents on Sunday, which he dreaded.
   This weekend, however, Ellis Earl was in luck. Mr. Foster had given him the leftovers from a surprise afternoon snack for his class. Ellis Earl wished the food could hold them over until Monday. But with eleven people in their house, a half loaf of bread, a half-empty jar of peanut butter, two chocolate Moon Pies, and a package of Stage Planks wouldn’t last until even the next day. The minute Mr. Foster had given him the sack, Ellis Earl had begun figuring out how many sandwiches he could make with the bread and peanut butter. He shared those figures with Carrie Ann.
   “We got ten slices of bread,” he said. “We can make five sandwiches and cut ’em in half, or we can each have one slice with peanut butter on top. That’s enough for all the children. We’ll divide up the Moon Pies, too. Mama can have the StagePlanks. It’ll be nice if she has something sweet for a change.”
   Carrie Ann stopped skipping and turned to face Ellis Earl. She glared at him. “Mr. Foster said to make sho’ I got a Moon Pie,” she said. “That mean a whole Moon Pie. So I ain’t splittin’ it up with nobody.”
   Ellis Earl waved her off. “Don’t be selfish. We can split these Moon Pies six ways. Everybody oughta get to taste something sweet.”
   “I’m hungry enough to eat both of them Moon Pies and all that bread and peanut butter right now,” Carrie Ann said, licking her lips.
   “Stop acting greedy. We can’t eat up everything by ourselves. It ain’t right.”
   Having eaten only one meal that day himself, Ellis Earl would have gladly eaten all the food right then and there had he been as oblivious to their family’s plight as his younger sister was. But he wasn’t as oblivious as Carrie Ann, so he would never think of devouring a whole sack of food and not sharing it with his siblings, especially ten-year-old Oscar, who had become too ill to attend school.
   Ellis Earl knew that all the family who were home during the day had probably eaten little more than a couple of biscuits, at best. He was fortunate that Mr. Foster always brought lunch for his students. Mr. Foster’s food was delicious, so Ellis Earl didn’t mind one bit that he couldn’t bring his own lunch. Sometimes Mr. Foster even had fried chicken, or smothered pork chops. And as if by some trick of magic, he had enough for everyone, even the students who brought their own lunches at times.
   “Why we gotta walk all the way home from the road?” Carrie Ann complained as she did nearly every day. She hugged her stack of textbooks to her chest with one hand and with the other tugged her coat collar tighter about her neck. “It’s cold out here. And my hand is freezing.”
   Ellis Earl clucked his tongue at Carrie Ann. It was a pity how his little sister could so quickly switch from skipping and singing to slouching and complaining. He peered through the still-bare branches of the trees and gazed at the sky. It was overcast and gray. “It’s about to be springtime before long,” he said, even though he hardly believed that himself. Regretfully, he didn’t have a free hand with which to secure his coat collar tighter about his neck. Neither could he alternate which hand held his textbooks in order to warm the other in his coat pocket as Carrie Ann did. But cold hands were a small price to pay to avoid the humiliation he would feel if the other children in the carpool ever saw his house.
   “When?” Carrie Ann asked.
   “When what?”
   “When is spring gon’ be here?”
   Ellis Earl shrugged. “Couple of weeks, I think.”
   “What day?”
   “How should I know? Do I look like a calendar?”
   “You always lookin’ at it, so I thought you had it re-memorized by now.”
   “Well, I don’t have it memorized. I just know spring’s coming soon. But I don’t know the exact day.” Ellis Earl glanced back up at the sky, doubtful. Spring was nowhere in sight, despite what the calendar said. But oh, how he wished it were. March shouldn’t feel the same as December.
   Another cold night in their house.
   Another night that his brother Oscar would be coughing up a storm.
   Ellis Earl hoped that Oscar would get better soon. He had missed two months of school, but Ellis Earl knew he could catch up if he was able to go back before the term was over. Oscar was a fast learner. But in the meantime, Oscar would have to settle for the bits of the outside world that Ellis Earl could bring, like books and food, when Mr. Foster sent it home with him.
   Halfway to the house, Carrie Ann stopped and stamped her foot.
   Ellis Earl groaned. “Now what’s the matter?”
   “Please let me have something outta that sack ’foe we get to the house,” Carrie Ann begged.
   “Nope. This food is for everybody.”
   Carrie Ann dropped her books on the road, fell to her knees, and, with her hands clasped beneath her chin, begged. “Please! Just gimme my Moon Pie. I just wanna have a whole Moon Pie to myself for once. Just. This. One. Time. Please!”
   Ellis Earl’s shoulders drooped. Carrie Ann was right. When they were lucky enough to have a sweet treat, it was always “divided up” among the little children: him, Oscar, Carrie Ann, Beatrice, Deidra, and Vera. Regardless of how tiny the snack, whether it was a Moon Pie, a Honey Bun, or even a Poor Boy cake, it was divided up.
   While Ellis Earl was deciding what to do, Carrie Ann got to her feet and reminded him again, “Mr.
   Foster said to make sho’ I got a Moon Pie. That mean a whole Moon Pie. Not no split-up Moon Pie.”
   “Mr. Foster said to make sure you got a Moon Pie, not sho’.”
   “Well, if that ain’t the pot callin’ the kettle black,” said Carrie Ann. “Don’t try to tell me how to talk, Ellis Earl Brown. You ain’t always so proper yo’self.”
   “Yourself,” said Ellis Earl, unfazed.
   Carrie Ann stretched out her hand. “Just gimme my Moon Pie.”
   With much exaggeration, Ellis Earl placed his books on the road, reached into the bag, and pulled out a Moon Pie. “Here,” he said, extending it toward Carrie Ann.
   “Thank the good Lord!” cried Carrie Ann.
   Before they reached the house, she had devoured the whole Moon Pie. With a satisfied grin, she raced toward the rickety steps of their home, dashed up, and darted across the porch to the front door.
   Ellis Earl, however, hesitated at the edge of the yard. With his stomach rumbling, he peeked into
the sack and considered eating that entire second Moon Pie.
   But he thought of Oscar.
   He thought of Beatrice.
   He thought of Deidra.
   He thought of Vera.
   Split four ways, that Moon Pie would make a satisfying treat for them.
   He himself could do without.