Atticus Monologue

“Come on,” I whispered.
We ran across the square until we were hidden from view. Why the heck was Atticus was hangin’ ‘round the jailhouse this time at night? Only thing ‘round here at this time were the niggers. But, I was proven wrong when shadowy silhouettes got out of cars in pairs and walked purposely towards Atticus. From our vantage point, the men blocked Atticus from view and they spoke so softly that I could barely hear them. Something… something about this situation was just… fishy. Yeah, that’s the word.
Dill, Scout, and I were as quiet as mice as we hid in the shadows. Dingy as the light bulb near Atticus was, it’s light reached near our hiding place and we had to squeeze together in the shadows. Atticus and men continued talking, and it seemed like
Finch? They gone?” “They’ve gone,” Atticus said, “Get some sleep Tom. They won’t bother you anymore.” Huh, so the Mr. Cunningham and all of them came for Tom Robinson, Atticus’ colored client? Why would they… oh yeah, Tom and his trial and all that. Were they like some kind of vigilante squad? “You’re damn tootin’ they won’t. Had you covered all the time, Atticus,” a crisp voice cut through the night. I swung my head so violently it would’ve fallen off if it wasn’t attached to my neck. I glimpsed Mr. Underwood and his double-barreled shotgun leaning out of his window. That would’ve been helpful to know earlier! Atticus and him talked and talked and I was sure the sun would come over the horizon and chickens would crow as soon as they were done, but Atticus returned soon with his chair. “Can I carry it for you, Mr. Finch?” asked Dill. I flinched, I hadn’t noticed Dill was there because he had been as silent as a grave the entire time. As we walked home, my heartbeat increased. Damn, Atticus is going to give me hell when we get home for disobeying him! When he stretched his arm out I thought for sure he was going to hit me, but he just ruffled my hair. My prospects at home were quite good