Chapter One - Going To An "All White" School
(Warning really racist)
*Move on to the next part of the chapter if you find it offensive*
The night was dark, gloomy, and freezin' cold. I thought I was gonna shiver to death and the only
light that could be seen, was the light from the full moon in the sky. I should've chosen warmer
clothin' to put on since I was warned that it wasn't gonna be as warm later on in the day, but I
foolishly didn't heed the warnin'.
I hugged what little clothin' I had on close to my chilled bare skin and huddled my arms together,
hopin' for some type of warmth from the bitter cold. The heels I wore didn't do me any justice
either; I could barely walk in 'em. I kept trippin' over cracks in the side walk and on pieces of glass
from broken liquor bottles.
I kept tellin my self, 'You gotta hurry, for some wild white folks see you'. Then I would contradict
myself by sayin, 'Aw come on, ain't no white folks gonna come strollin' through a black
neighborhood at this time of night. You just trippin'. But I soon found out I wasn't trippin'; My first
assumptions were right.
A long piece of old, rusted barbwire stuck out of a fence. I didn't notice it until it cut the side of my
thigh when I walked past it. The cut didn't hurt much, only for a split second, but I bent down to
look at how bad it was anyway. As I bent down I noticed it was suddenly brighter. I looked back to
see a car had pulled up beside where I stood.
It was a bright red 57 Chevy with gleamin' silver rims and a white roof. As far as I could see there
were no scratches or dents on it; it looked brand new. I knew very well nobody in my neighborhood
could afford a nice car like that, It had to belong to some white folks.
I slowly began to stand up coverin' the bright light with my hand so I could see who these people
were, and what they wanted. Just as I thought, it did belong to some white folks. Three white boys
got out of the car laughin', hootin', and hollerin' like a pack of wolves; actin' like they had struck
gold or somethin'. From what they were wearin', they looked like they could be jocks or somethin'
of that nature.
Each of them had big builds and long greasy hair. One had curly red hair. The second one had light
brown hair which was curly in the front. The third one had black hair which was greased to the
back. I couldn't see much of what their faces looked like. I saw glimpses of their features but not
their whole faces.
The one with the black hair strutted proudly towards me."Well, well, well boys it looks like we
found us a little nigga outside past her curfew" He said with big cocky smirk on his face. "Looks
like we'll have to put her to bed---but first lets see what she looks like." He pulled a flash light outta
his jacket pocket and shined it in my face. "Ah, she's a cute one too, that's a surprise most niggas are
The other two walked up on the sidewalk and stood beside him laughin' at the black haired ones
"What you just said right there, that was some funny stuff" I let out a fake laugh. "And what are you
the police? Why you shinin' that light in my face?" I covered my face with my hand.
"Watch how you talk to us nigga!" said the brunette.
"Oh we're gonna have a lot of fun with you tonight" Said the red head, he words over lapped the
"Oh just tonight? Why not tomorrow?" I said this jokingly, I might not have gotten the chance to see
tomorrow with all the sarcasm and back talk that uncontrollably flew through my teeth.
"You wish that a lot don't you, you nigga whore?" the one with the blue eyes snickered causin' the
other two started laughing as well. For some reason, white folks seemed to always be amused by the
dumbest most simple things. They never had any creativity when it came insults and comebacks.
"I guess you don't know what a joke is," I snaped at them. "I would never sleep with any of y'all, I
would never lower myself to be with a cracka boy, y'all are all beasts and you don't even realize it."
I knew I shouldn't have said that to their faces, but it was the damn truth. If they kill me for it so be
it, as long as they know they are the ones who are animals, and not us Negros.
Their faces showed shock, anger, and disbelief that I would say such a thing like that to them at a
moment like this. The one with the black hair only smirked at my hate filled words and put his
flashlight away. "You're one bold nigga to say something like that to us, while your life is in our
hands." He grabed me by one of my arms and lifted me up, then pulled out a pocket knife plainly
makin' sure I saw it. "Ya see, most people don't care if one of you niggas die, that's just one less
nigga we have to worry about."
He said that as if white folk cared about us in anyway way period. "One less nigga we have to
worry about" , as if they lost sleep at night thinkin' about us. I almost rolled my eyes at him but I
stopped myself rememberin' he had a knife in his hand. He pointed the knife at the car, "Go pop the
trunk," He ordered. The red head went over to it.
I felt a warm buzz-like feelin' go through my slouched body hangin' in the air. Anythin' could've
been in that trunk---anythin'. I didn't really know exactly how to feel at that moment. I didn't wanna
show them I was afraid because that would make me vulnerable, but if I acted too tough they
might've beaten me to the color of black and blue. All I knew was that I should'nt have opened my
big mouth like I did. My thoughts repeated in my mind, "If they kill me for it so be it." I didn't mean
that at all; I didn't wanna die; not like this.
Surprisingly, the red headed one didn't take anythin' out. I felt relieved, but wanted to know why he
was asked to open the trunk if he wasn't gonna take anythin' out. "Alright now put our luggage in
the trunk," The black haired one gently slapped the brunette one over the shoulder and chucked.
The one with the brunette hair picked me up by my arms and dragged me over to the trunk. The red
head backed back so he throw me inside. Luckily the trunk had soft carpetin' instead of metal, other
wise it would've been a painful landin'.
As the the guy who through me in walked away the guy who opened the trunk walked over. He
slammed his hands on the trunk and looked down at me with a smirk. "We're havin' an all night
party girl," He whispered, like it was a secret only me and him could know about. "so you best get
ready sweet little nigga." He then slammed the trunk down.
I could hear those idiots laughin' from outside. They evidently were the type to laugh at stuff that
was no where near funny. I knew kickin' and screamin' wouldn't help none, in fact, it could've made
my situation worse. I had to think up a plan to get out some how, there was no tellin' how long it
would've taken them to get to this "all night party".
The ride wasn't that long, I say it was about ten to fifteen minutes tops. I can tell you one thing for
sure though, these guys drove like maniacs. It felt like they hit every bump in the streets there could
be. I didn't know whether they did that to scare me or if they were just really that bad at drivin'. If it
wasn't on purpose the guy who gave them their licences should be fired. That's if any of them even
had one in the first place.
The one who drove left bruises everywhere on my brown, sun kissed skin. My body tossed and
bounced around like a ping pong ball in the trunk. I was so glad when the short cruise finally came
to a stop; It was a loud screeching one, but relieved me of more pain and bruises. Everything was
silent for a while. At that moment I realized I didn't think of a plan yet, I was too busy wonderin' if I
was gonna survive the car ride.
Suddenly I heard laughin' and doors slamin'. I had to think of some right then. I started to panic and
looked around me to see if they had anythin' that would be useful. To my surprise, there was a small
wooden baseball bat siting in the corner of the trunk. As soon as one of those idiots opened the
trunk I'd whack em' in the face; pretty simple.
As the talking got closer I could tell it was the blue eyed one coming to open the trunk. I sat up as
best as I could in the tight space and positioned myself to swing. The trunk unlocked and
aggressively shot up---shockingly it didn't break off. The person was exactly who I thought it
Before he could finish his sentence I swung the bat hittin' the side of his face, causin' him to stagger
and drop to the ground. I quickly jumped outta the trunk and darted strait a head, my feet poundin'
through the tall out grown grass. The other two stood still like statues in utter shock at what just
The blue eyed one hollered out with an ear spiltin' shriek; the cry sounded like he was bein' eattin'
alive."You son of a bitch!" he yelled in pain. "Don't just stand there! Catch that nigga bitch!"
I swung my head back for a spilt second so I could see how far behind they were. They had much
runin' to do to get me, but they were catchin' up. My feet forced themselves to go faster in spite of
the throbbin' pain in my legs. I zig zagged from side to side not really knowin' what I was was doin'
nor where I was goin', all I knew was that I had to get away.
I was hopin' they would take me to a place where there would be people around, but they weren't
completely stupid; At least I knew where I was. They had taken me to a wooded area we called
"Land Of Dead Corpses", where most people who lived in this town didn't wanna be anywhere near.
The stories of people disappearin' off the face of the earth and havin' their dead lifeless bodies found
in these wood frighted everyone. No one would wanna come past, especially at night. Of course this
would be the perfect place to rape someone.
I was too busy lookin' at my surroundin's to realize my sprint had slowed down to a mere jog, which
gave the three boys time to catch up to me. there was a log in the direction of my path. I tripped
over it and fell scrappin' my right knee. Blood rushed from the wound as soon as I tripped.
About a layer of skin from the top part of my knee had been scraped off. I tried coverin' it with my
hands but blood continued to spill out through the cracks of my fingers. It hurt very badly, like
someone stuck a bunch of safety pins in me. The pain so too much for me to move from the spot I
Tears foamed in my eyes and threatened to escape. The boys finally caught up to me. Rockin' my
numb achin' body back and forth, I kept myself from bawlin' my eyes out like a baby in front of
them. They stood around me in a triangle formation laughin' in their evil manner.
"That's what you get for hittin' me with that bat nigga!" said the black haird one. The side of his
face where I hit him was bright red. Blood leaked from his mouth and down his chin.
"Just leave me alone," I pleaded. I could no longer hold in the tears, they stung my eyes and rush
down my cheeks.
"Oh look, now she wants us to feel sorry for her." the black haired one mocked. The three of them
laughed at my agonizin' pain. "Maybe if you would've behaved we would've went easy on ya, but
you're gonna learn the hard way now. Grab her."
With in a few seconds they were tarin' off my clothes like they were made of thin paper. I didn't
fight; there was no use of tryin' to. Even if I wanted too I couldn't, my arms and legs were pinned to
the ground. Their hands and fingers touched places I was savin' for marriage. I laid still, knocked
out of of my senses. My mind became foggy to what was happenin' to me. A couple of fingers were
shoved inside of my and I wailed out from the inflicted agony.
A familiar voice rang in my ears and interrupted the mood of my situation."Onika, wake up baby!"
The voice called out to me. The voice was my mama tryin' to get me to wake up. It was all a dream.
A dream that I constantly had almost every night for months.
Part Two Of Chapter One: Convincing Mama
My eyes shot open. Once I heard my mama's voice I knew it was a dream, but how could I not
know? It was the same 'ol dream I kept havin' constantly, but it felt so real. The way the dream went
never changed; nothin' new happened, it was always the same.
I forced myself to sit up rubin' the sleep from my eyes. I was drenched in a cold sweat, and panted
like a dog in the summer time. It's funny how I was always so fearless in that dream, but woke like I
had just seen a ghost.
"Did you have that crazy dream again?" my mama asked placin' the back of her hand on my
forehead. "Child, you done soaked the bed with all this sweatin'. You need to stop havin' that
I turned my head to look up at mama and gave her an 'Are you serious?' look. "It's not like wanna
keep havin' it" I said kickin' the covers off. I've told plenty of people about the dream and that I felt
it truly meant somethin', but no one else seemed to feel the same.
"Well it's almost time it wake up anyway, make sure you clean up well and dress nicely. I want you
to look descent in front of them white folk." she said and walked outta the room.
God knows I hated it when she would constantly say that, it got on my nerves. 'Don't do this in font
of white folk, i don't want them thinkin' this. You can't say that in front of white folk, I don't want
them think that.'
Colored people were always sayin' stuff like that, as if white folk were gods. I never understood
why colored people cared, when white folk will always continue to think of us the same way no
matter what. It doesn't matter what they think, they aren't the gods of the earth and they don't rule
over us neither.
I didn't wanna go to that that school anyways. But there were new integration laws that said blacks
and white were aloud to be in the same school together and get the same education. Mama saw it as
a great opportunity to get a good education. I saw it as like goin' to the fire pit of hell.
I made my way over to the dresser I had to share with my brother, Omari. I hated havin to share a
room with him. He always had his clothes and hair products all on the floor. I kept on havin' to tell
him to keep his things on his side of the room and what does he do? He leaves the whole room a
mess. He couldn't even put his clothes in the dresser correctly without them bein' all bunched up
and hangin' off the shelves.
Our room was pretty small with not a whole lot of room to spare; him messin' it up all the time
didn't make it no roomier. The whole house was very small as a matter a fact. From the outside it
looked like it would fall apart if you even laid a finger on it, but the inside doesn't look so bad.
I took a white button-down shirt, a long black skirt, a pair of white socks, and a red plaid sweater
out of the dresser and put them on the bed. Then I went under my bed to get out my new flats and
sat them at the foot of the bed.
I walked across the hall and went over to the bathroom. The one thing I liked about sharin' a room
with my brother is that the bathroom was right next door. I walked in the bathroom and slowly
closed the door so I wouldn't make too much ruckus. The bathroom was like I said the rest of the
house was; very small. The floor was made of multi-colored tiles and the walls of black and white
I went over to the mirror that hung over the sink to admire my face. For some odd reason I enjoyed
starrin' at myself, although I couldn't tell if I was as beautiful as mama. I didn't think I was ugly, but
since mama was the only one who said I was I felt like I wasn't as pretty as she was. My features
were different from the other Nergros in my neighborhood. They are exotic and made me stand out
which sometimes I didn't like.
I took a quick bath, curled my hair, put in into a ponytail, and went in the room to put on my
clothes. Once I finished gettin' myself together, I jogged down our squeaky old stairs and slowly
went into the kitchen, where my mama was fixin' plates.
I really didn't wanna go to that school, not with all those white kids there. I didn't wanna have to
deal with white parents yelling at me and the other negro kids to go back to our own school. I didn't
want those white kids to look down at us and shame us for being who we didn't have a choice to be.
For being who we are. I had to convince my mama that I couldn't go to that school.
I sat at the counter while my mama finished fryin' some eggs. I loved to watch her cook, it was like
she was a chief in a restaurant. She was wonderful at cookin', I always looked forward to eating
what ever she made. She had this glow about her when ever she was cookin', she looked very
She turned from the stove and sat my plate on the counter. Her bright smile turned into a concerned
look. "What's wrong child? You look worried about somein'' " she asked, turnin' around to grab her
Before answerin' her, I took a deep breath and sighed. I already knew the what the out come of this
would be, but I was gonna try anyway. "Mama, I don't wanna go to that school"
She looked up from her plate and raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?" she asked.
"You know why mama," I said tryin' to look as serious as possible "those white folks don't want
people like us in their schools or anywhere near them!"
Her deep brown eyes gave me a cold hard stare. "So is that it?" her voice boomed "You're afraid?
Child I didn't raise no weak people in my house! You are gonna be strong for yourself and for all the
other colored folk!"
The sound sound of her voice rasin' at me sent chills down my back. "I'm not a afraid mama, I just
don't wanna deal with them!" I told her.
"Child there's always gonna be someone, or somethin' you're not gonna wanna have to deal with!"
She said, rollin' her eyes and shakin' her head at my pitiful words. "But that's how life is and you're
gonna get a little experience of the world right now, today!". She walked over to the fridge and
"Now," she said calmly handin' me a brown paper bag with my lunch in it "you are gonna get'cho
tail to school, and if I here you didn't go I'ma beat your behind!"
With that, I took my lunch and slowly headed out the door with my head hung to the ground. I
already knew she was gonna say that. I wasn't convincin' enough. When my mama thinks somethin'
is right there was no way to convince her it wasn't.
Me and a hand full of other negro students walked in a group so that we could feel safer. To my
surprise there were ten of us, I thought there would've been less than that.
It didn't take us long too get to the school, it wasn't that far only about four or five blocks away. The
whole block was crowded with angry ragged white folks and police cars. The white folks stood
aroun' on the fresh cut lawn of the school with signs in their hands waitin' for us. I couldn't see what
was written on the signs until the people started runin' up on us. They came at us like a herd of
distressed cattle. I could then clearly see what was written on the signs.
Some of the signs said "Go home niggers!" and others "We don want niggers in our school!". Them
people must've made these signs in a fit of rage. The word "nigger" was spelled wrong on every
single one of their signs, which I found to be hilarious. The only one in our group who didn't seem
to be afraid was the boy in front of the group---Marcus. The others were tremblin' with so much
fright, they flinched at every move the white folks made towards us.
The police were the tryin' to hold the crowd back almost gettin' pushed down in the process. Empty
cans were thrown and we were spat at. Things got so outta hand gates had to be put up to keep the
people back. So much for the warm welcomin', but that's exactly what I knew would happen.
Chapter Two - Meeting Greasers
We marched into the school, the inside was much bigger than the outside made it appear to be. I
passed by this school many times wishin' my old school was as big and nice lookin' as this school,
and now I was inside of it. I should've been more careful with my wishes. The hallway we were
walkin' down was filled with gray lockers and doors that lead to God knows where.
A man in a black suit stood in the middle of the hall waitin' for us. As we got closer, I was able to
see what he fully looked like. He had a mustache and curly black hair covered with patches of
grayness. He looked about fifty. The look on his face wasn't an excited one. He gave us the look
every white person gave colored folks; the look of disgust.
"Hello," he said, puttin' his hands behind his back. "I see you all are the new transfers, is this all of
you?" he asked lookin' at around all of us to make sure.
The boy in front of the group, who I knew by the name of Marcus, spoke up. "I beileve this is all of
us Sir," He said.
"Well then let me introduce myself, my name is Mr. Wilson and I'm the principal of this school." He
pointed to himself and said his name in a loud cheerful voice. He made himself seem a little more
important than he really was, but at least he seemed happy now.
"Every morning when you come here you will have to attend to Assembly, so you can be informed
about everything that's happening. I will show you where it's usually held." He gestured his hands
for us to follow him and we continued to walk down the hall just as we were before.
That was the longest walk I had ever had to take to get to an Assembly. My old school was so small,
there was evena lunch room; we had to eat in class. There were so many hallways we had to walk
through in this school, it wouldn't be easy rememberin' where everythin' was.
When we finally got to Assembly, I was amazed at how big and beautiful it was. It was like looking
inside of a church, but also like the inside of a theater as well. There were twelve rows of benches
on each side of the room. They were long and left a narrow walkin' space in between them. There
was a stage covered with red draperies and a podium with a microphone attacked to it.
"Well, don't be shy go in." Mr. Wilson said encouragingly, with a big smile. He seemed much nicer
than the facial expression he made towards us earlier.
The white kids were already seated for Assembly. They all turned to look at us. Some gave us blank
stares, some looked at us in disgust, and others gave us tauntin' devilish grins. I kept my head down
so I wouldn't see them starin'. Whenever someone stared I felt belittled like there was somethin'
wrong with me; that's why I couldn't stand it.
The negros I walked with went in different directions. I was hoppin' we'd sit together so I would
feel less nervous. But since they were thinkin' differently, I sat in the very back where there weren't
many people. I felt safe from the prayin' eyes of the white students back there. Once all of us were
seated and the noise of chatter died down, Mr. Wilson went up to the podium to speak.
I crossed my arm on my lap with my head remained faced to the floor. My ears were kept open so I
could hear all of what Mr. Wilson had to say, but I had no desire to look around at anyone. I hated
moments where was I lookin' at someone then they turned in my direction and made eye contact
with me. I would always look away from them awkwardly and very much embarrassed.
Enexpectedly, I felt fingers pinch the bottom half of my thigh. The sudden contact caused me flinch
back and look up at who did it. It was a white boy with brown hair greased to the back and
chocolate-colored eyes. He looked like one of them "greasers" I heard of. I didn't know much about
'em but I knew what he wore was considered to be their usual style of clothin'. From what I could
see, he had on a black motorcycle jacket and a white v-neck shirt. He was sittin' on the bench in
front of me so I wasn't able to see nothin' else. He lifted his chin up at me, showin' clear sight of his
strong rounded jawline and pursed his large pouty lips together.
He was kinda cute, for a white boy that is. He had the "tough guy" image and looked like the
mischievous type. But even with his image, he had big adorable puppy dog eyes that showed that
there could be a little innocents. He gave me a big smile that stretched from ear to ear.
"Hey doll," he said in a deep, low seducing voice "you have nice legs, why don't chu wrap them
around my waist after school huh? I got somethin' you might dig". He licked his lips, pulled out a
sucker, and put it in his mouth still eyein' me.
I gave him the biggest grin I had ever given anyone in my whole life. I tied to force myself to stop
but I couldn't. I blushed hard and even though my skin is brown you can still see a little color. I felt
stupid. I put my head down so he couldn't see my face.
"Should I take that big smile as a yes?" I heard him chuckle a little, but I refused to look at him.
He bent over the bench he was sittin' on and looked at my face. I sat up quickly and attempted to
look around him. He put both of his hands on both side of my face and turned my head back in his
"Why you tryin' to look away?" he asked with my face still cupped in his hands "I ain't gonna bite,
not too hard at least." he smiled at me devilishly and pulled me closer to him. I pulled back in
shock. I didn't know why I was letin' this happen without tellin' him off. No boy had ever said
anything like that to me, then a again most of the boys I hung around knew how to keep their hands
to themselves, and didn't act like perverts.
"Look," I said trying to seem as serious as possible. "first off I'm tryin' the listen to Mr. Wilson and
you're buggin' me, second you need to stop this before someone sees, and third I like black boys not
He lowered his eyebrows and smirked. He gave me this look that practically said "Aw shut up you
ain't serious". He took his sucker outta his mouth, preparin' to be a smartass. He twirled the sucker
around in his fingers before sayin' somethin'.
"Well first off nobody listens to Mr. Wilson so I don't know why you are. He's a kookie party
pooper. It surprises me no one besides me and my brother sits in the back of the room to avoid those
hawk eyes of his. Second no one is lookin' and even if they are who cares, I'll pound 'em real good
if they have somethin' to say about me talkin' to you. Third that smile you gave me a few minutes
ago said differently, you looked like you were on cloud nine."
He put the sucker back in his mouth and waited for my reply. I rolled my eyes and ignored him, I
didn't want anyone takin' badly about me on my first day here. I didn't need that stress on me.
Although it didn't seem like anyone was lookin', I couldn't take chances.
He snapped his fingers in my face. "Hellloooo?" He said questionin' my silence.
I pushed his hand away. "GoodByyyeee!" I called back in a annoyed tone.
"You think you're so smart eh? That's ok, I love smart a ass with a pretty face." He got up swiftly
and sat next to me. He put an arm around my waist tryin' to pull me into a kiss. I lightly push him
off, I didn't wanna cause a scene back there. "Stop," I growled at him through clenched teeth.
A head full of blonde hair popped up from the same bench Mr. Smooth-Talker was sittin' on. He
scared me so bad, I froze in my seat too afraid to move. He almost looked like a copy of Mr.
Smooth-Talker. He had the rounded jawline and the full lips just like him. The only things that made
him look different were that he had green eyes and blonde hair. His hair was swooped over his for-
head, coverin' it completely.
"Is he botherin' you?" he asked, glarin' at Mr. Smooth-Talker.
"No I'm not bother in' her, how long have you been awake?" He yapped back at him with his arm
still aroun' me.
"Long enough to hear you flirtin' with one of the new students, tryin' to seduce her with your
"It worked didn't it? I'm back here with her aren't I?"
I lowered my eyebrows and quickly turned my head to him, almost breakin' my neck. Was this fool
serious bein'? I thought, I opened my mouth to speak but Blondie already spoke my thoughts.
"What the hell are you talkin' about? I heard her clearly say "you're botherin' me' you nosebleed.
Quit tryin' to force yourself on people who don't want you". Mr. Smooth-Talker pulled his arm from
around me and grabbed the collar of Blonde's shirt. Right as he was about to say somethin', Mr.
Wilson told everyone to stand up from the benches.
"Alright," he said still standing at the podium "all the people who have been here before knows
what goes on after everythings been said up here, but for the new people I will have to explain.
When I call you grade I want you all to form a line in front of your teacher. Ninth graders first."
All of the Ninth graders lined up then it was the tenth graders turn---which was my grade. Our
teacher waved us over and all of the kids in my class rushed to her. I waited til' most of the kids
were out of the way so I wouldn't get trampled, then I went to the back of the line. I didn't see any
of the kids I walked with get in the line. I hoped at least one of them did so I wouldn't feel lonely.
Either way, I was gonna make the best out of the day.
Part Two of Chapter Two: In Class
I could barely concentrate throughout the whole day, especially since I found out the two same
boys, I met earlier, were in my class. They snuck outta Assembly when Mr. Wilson told us to start
linin' up for class. They looked like they'd be in eleventh or twelfth grade so I wasn't worried too
much about bumpin' into them durin' class period. As always, my thoughts are the opposite from the
truth. They came to class thirty minutes after it started, right as we were right in the middle of
During Class -
"Okay everyone, I will be passing out some math text books. You all will have to take these home
with you and do your homework; I want them back tomorrow." said our teacher, Mrs. Sterling. She
walked to each desk, gently placin' a book on every one of them. "Once you get your book, I want
you to turn to page twenty-three and wait for me to begin reading the instructions"
I sat in the far back next to a huge window on the right side of the room. I found that spot to be
bright and peaceful, a spot so wonderful that I could get lost in my daydreams without a care in the
Once I got a book I turned to page twenty-three like Mrs. Sterling and looked around the room. The
class room was a nice size; not too big, not too small. It was much bigger than the class rooms in
my old school, much better lookin' too. Usually I would have to look down to avoid trippin' over
cracks in the floors.
I was brought out of my peaceful mood once a familiar face pooped up in the small window of the
class room door. The puppy dog eyes and plump lips were unmistakable; they belonged to Mr.
Smooth-Talker. It had to be him. From what I could see for most part no one else looked like him,
besides the blonde boy he was with; they both had this unique look to them that made them stand
out. Most white folks looked the same to me.
Mrs. Sterling looked over to the door, then sighed and rolled her eyes. She got up from her desk
attemptin' to open the door, but Mr. Smooth-Talker and Blondie had already burst through. She
backed away and stood over by her desk, shakin' her head in an irritated manner. Some of the kids
whispered, I couldn't really tell what most of them were sayin' but I knew it was about them.
Mr. Smooth-Talker swaggered over to Mrs. Sterling. He looked her up and down smirkin', while he
leaned' against her desk with his arms folded and legs crossed. Blondie stood next to him givin'
Mrs. Sterling a shy, lazy smile with his hands in his pants pockets.
"The Evans twins!" she said loud and harshly "what a pleasant surprise, I thought you two were
leaving this school."
Twins huh? I thought they might be related.
"Our mom is makin' us stay through the rest of high school, since this school is the closest we can
get to." Blondie explained.
"Yep, so you get to see our faces for about three more years’ doll." said Mr. Smooth-Talker still
leanin' on the desk, takin' another sucker outta his pocket, like he did earlier.
Mrs. Sterling looked at him annoyed and frustrated.
She pointed a finger in his face "Do not call me doll, dolly, or any other pet name you give your
little girlfriends! My name is Mrs. Sterling and that's who you will address me as!"
Mr. Smooth-Talker didn't move an inch, nor did his face change. He continued to stare at
her arrogantly with lust in his eyes. "I'm sorry Mrs. Sterling, but the name "Sterling" just doesn't
sound right. I like Mrs. Evans better." he winked at her and put the sucker in his mouth.
Mrs. Sterling's eyes widened in disgust, she sighed again and pointed her finger over to the desks. I
don’t know how she didn't blush from what he said, hell I was blushin' and I'm not even the one he
was talkin' to. "Sit your buttocks down at a desk, both of you!" She turned to her desk and started
Mr. Smooth-Talker glanced around the room then stopped when he saw me. He grinned widely at
me. All the kids turned around in my direction to see what he was lookin' at.
I picked up my math book and stood it up so no one could see my face. Like I said before, I hate
being stared at, plus I'm kinda shy too; just a little.
"Are you lookin' at that nigger girl over there?" I heard the voice of a boy say in a crowd of other
voices. Whoever that was made me wanna throw this book at 'em. I might seem weak and
defenseless to some people but I'm really not. I know when I have to defend myself.
"Even if I was, why are you worried? You should be worried about how you gonna keep your broad
away from me. Oh wait, you can't get one nosebleed." I heard Mr. Smooth-Talker say.
I instantly laid the book back down once I heard him say that. I've never seen anyone get into a fight
at school, verbally nor physically. Most of the kids at my old school got along just fine. I wanted to
see what would happen.
"You better watch it, or I'll make sure the whole town knows you're a nigger lover!" the boy said
this as if he was threatenin' his life. Well then again......he was.
Being' friends with someone of a different race was practically a sin to most folk. He and his
brother would be riskin' everything, even their lives if they tried to become friends with me.
Blondie slowly paced over to the boy and slammed his hands on the boy's desk. "I know very damn
well you're not makin' threats now are? You better cool it cherry head. If you spread any rumors
don't think we won't come after you." I think he called him "cherry head" because he had red hair.
Just a thought that popped up in my head.
"Why do I hear talking?" Mrs. Sterling said loudly with her back still turned to us. She probably
didn't hear what all was bein' said. Even though I didn't know much about her, she looked like the
type that wouldn't tolerate the jazz these boys were talkin'.
The class suddenly became quite and Mr. Smooth-Talker and Blondie came and sat in the back row
with me. I was a little disappointed, I really wanted to see a fight break out.
We all sat in silence for a few minutes before Mrs. Sterling turned around and faced us. Her eyes
wandered to the back row in thought. She kept eyeballin', me as if she was tryin' to figure out if she
should have me do somethin'.
"Onika" she called out almost sympathetically "can you share your math book with the Evans twins,
please? There aren't any other math books right now. I'm sorry for putting you through this"
"Wonderful" I thought sarcastically "now people are goin' to stare at us and Mr. Smooth-Talker is
gonna keep sweet talkin' me like it's normal". I nodded and pushed my desk in between Mr.
Smooth-Talker and Blondie. They scooted their desks closer to mine.
"You boys behave yourselves" Mrs. Sterling said with a half-way smirk. She picked up her math
book and walked over to the chalk board to write down a math problem. The class returned to bein'
chatty once more.
Before I could sit down in my seat, Mr. Smooth-Talker put the back of his hand on it and felt
"Wow" he said lookin' surprised for whatever reason. ”Your seat is warm, very warm." Both I and
Blondie looked at him pretty much confused.
"I pretty sure her seat is warm because she was sittin' in it" Blondie quietly chuckled.
"Yeah, but her seat is very warm! Warmer than most girls seats." sayin' this like it was normal to
feel on chairs.
"So, you go around feelin' on girl's seats?" Blondie covered his mouth tryin' to hold back his
laughin' "you are one big tickle man, please cut the gas before I die of laughter."
"Just think about it though, she gotta warm wazoo"
Blondie turned his head towards me, and then cocked his head to the side to look at my bum. He
studied it a little. "Can't tell if she gotta nice one, her skirt isn't tight enough."
I placed a finger in the middle of my for-head and rolled my eyes. The white kids were givin' us
dirty looks, even the three Negro kids in the class gave us looks of suspicion.
I was standin' there awkwardly, by my desk, while Mr. Smooth-Talker felt on my seat and him and
his brother talked about my bum. Although they weren't talkin' loudly, I'm pretty sure someone
could hear what they were sayin'. "Why is this happenin'?" thought, “What is wrong with them?
Why don't they care about the looks we're gettin'? Don't they care about their place God given
place in society?"
"People are lookin' " I said pronouncin' every word slowly through clenched teeth "get'cho hand off
my seat so I can sit down, and hush up talkin' about my 'wazoo'."
Mr. Smooth-Talker moved his hand, pretendin' to be scared, while his brother still looked at my
bum. I sat in my seat lookin' down at the math book to make sure it was still on the right page.
Mrs. Sterling finished writin' down a problem and we began the math lesson.
Apparently, there weren't any more books for them in any other subjects’ right then either. I had to
share books with them though out the whole day.
Basically I read and tried to explain to them what the lesson meant. Mr. Smooth-Talker took things I
said and made them sexual. Then Blondie laughed and told him to "cool it" before someone heard.
That was pretty much my whole day in class; I didn't learn one thing hangin' around them. It got
worse at lunch.
I was standin' in the back of the line with a tray, waitin' for my turn to get my plate filled. When all
of a sudden I felt a breeze go up my skirt. I ignored it thinkin' it was just me, but then I felt warm
fingers rub up and down the inter part of my leg.
I quickly turned my head, already knowin' who it was---Mr. Smooth-Talker. He had another sucker
in his mouth. "Jeez, how many of those do he be suckin' on?" I thought, maybe he just couldn't do
without candy. I didn't see Blondie behind 'em surprisingly.
I mouthed the words "stop it" to him twice, he knew what I was sayin' but didn't stop. He stuck out
his tongue like an excited puppy and went further up my leg. Pretty soon he was tuggin' the rim of
my panties. I grabbed his hand from under me and tired to , but he shook my hand off and slapped it
I felt him softly pinch my "private" area. I gasped---practically suckin' all the air out the room.
Then I spun myself around and punched him in the arm hard. He grabbed his arm in pain with his
mouth hung open and his eyes squinted. I turned back around and continued to wait in line as
He didn't touch me no more after that. That's what he get for messin' with me after done told him to
stop. But all of that could've been avoided, if my dumb self would've remembered my mama had
packed the lunch I brought. I ended up eatin' that and the school lunch.
I can't tell you how happy I was to be let outta that school to go home. I felt this new joy just rushed
over me. I was free from judgmental eyes.
It was like a beginnin' of a new journey as I pushed those big doors that blocked my way open.
Part Three Of Chapter Two: After School
As I ran down the stone steps of the school with my books in my arms, I realized the white folks
with the signs were gone. I guess they had other things to do besides standin' outside of a school,
with signs, yellin' hateful things about colored people. Thank God they were gone.
I looked around the town enjoyin' the view, while I made my way to the sidewalk-----which I
usually wouldn't do, since there wasn't much to look at. I wouldn't say the town was hideous, but it
wasn't too pretty either; There was trash in the streets, the grass and bushes grew wildly, the
sidewalks were so dirty you had to scrub your shoes as soon as you got in the house----the town was
just so gray, dull, and trashy. Just like most of the people who lived there.
I was gonna wait for the other Negro kids, but since I had to sit in between them two white boys----
and probably seemed to be enjoyin' it too----I didn't think they would wanna walk with me.
Even after havin' two lunches I still was a little hungry. The strong taste for some chips and Coke
took over my tongue. I decided to keep walkin' home and just stop at a corner store when I got
closer to the house. Just as I decided to make that decision, I tripped over a crack in the sidewalk
and fell flat on my face droppin' my school book as well.
Surprisingly I didn't scrape any part of me. I looked around to see if anyone had seen me fall----
which so far I didn't see anyone around, thank God-----and slowly stood up.
As I picked up my books, I noticed a pair of pale hands pickin' up two of the books I dropped. I
stood strait up from my bent over position and turned to the person who was pickin' the books up. It
was Mr. Smooth-Talker---again!
I looked down at the sidewalk, rolled my eyes, and shook my head. "What does he want now?" I
thought, "Can I be by myself for a few minutes without this boy followin' me? Jeez!”. He always
seemed to show up either when no one was around or when no one was lookin'. He had great timin'
"Hey, you fell and dropped your stuff" he said, like I didn't know I just fell and dropped everythin'.
"Really, is that so?" I said sarcastically with a grin. "I know I fell and dropped my stuff. That's why
I got up off the ground and picked up my books."
"Whatever wise ass," he said lookin' at me with a bored and lazily expression. "how come you
carin' books anyways? Where's your bag?"
"I don't have one; if I did I wouldn't be carin' books in my arms."
"Oh, well I have one you can use. I never use it----hell what am I talkin' about? I never take home
those stupid school books anyways." he scratched the back of his neck and laughed.
"If he doesn't take the books home, how does he do his work?" I thought, which I dunno why I was
worried about that. This boy was delayin' me from gettin' to the corner store and gettin' a snack!
"What is it that 'chu really want? Are you here so you can continue to harass me? Are you planin' on
takin' me to some wooded area to rape me?"
He burst out laughin', takin' my questions as complete jokes. He laughed 'til he turned tickled pink.
"Whoa, you got me mistaken! Now I might be a disgustin' beast to most girls, but I'm no rapist!"
"Argh, whatever!" I said, frustratingly I tossin' my head back. "Just give me my books please?". I
tried to reach for 'em, but he raised the books up over his head; and being the short person I am I
couldn't reach 'em.
"Oh come on!" I yelled, jumpin' up to grab 'em, "Quit playin', give 'em to me!"
"Nope, you gotta kiss me first!" He puckered his lips and bent down bringin' his face closer to mine.
I gasped surprisingly and stepped back. No one had ever asked to kiss 'em before.
"Ew no, I wouldn't kiss you!"
I lied, I really wanted to. Those big pink lips were irresistible. I had the urge to do it but I forced
myself to resist. I couldn't kiss him here out in the open for people to see. Even though there wasn't
anyone around at the moment, anybody could pop up and see us. Plus he was a perv who had been
sexual harassin' me all day, so it wouldn't be respectable to kiss him.
"I don't even know your name Mr. Smooth-Talker, plus we just met each other!"
"Oh yeah, I forgot I never told you my name. The name's Dillon, Dillon Evans, nice to meet you."
He stuck his hand out for me to shake it, but I slapped it away.
"We still don't really know each other, Dillon, anyway why don't 'chu find some pretty blonde to
have a make-out session with? Aren't them the kind of girls y’all white boys tend to like anyways?”
"I don't feel like findin' some pretty blonde broad, why would I need to when there's a cute little
doll standin' right in front of me?”
He grinned, grabbed my arm----makin' me drop my books again----and dragged me over to the
huge old tree we were standin' by. He threw the two books he had down and pinned me up against
the trunk of the tree. He cupped my face in his hands and planted kisses from my jaw to my neck. It
was an uncomfortable feelin'. The kisses tickled and didn't feel right.
"No, stop, what are you doin'?!" I whined, squirmin' to get away from him."That feels weird and
what if someone sees?”
He ran his fingers through my penny brown hair and place the other hand on the trunk of the tree.
Then pushed his body onto mine and ran his fingers through my hair, continuin' to kiss my neck.
"So what if someone sees?" he said in between kisses.
"So what? Don't you care about your reputation in this town?"
He stopped kissin' me and eyeballed me for a good second before burstin' out laughin' again. He
was startin' to really annoy me with his laughin' fits. I couldn't see what was so funny; There was
nothin' funny 'bout what I was askin' him.
"What reputation doll? Scratch that, what good reputation? I'm a greaser; a dirty hood; white trash.
I'm no better than y’all Negros, people 'round here treat us like crap on the bottom of their shoes!"
Just as he was about to go back to kissin' me, I heard a familiar voice call from outta nowhere. It
startled me a little, but I knew it had to be Blondie.
"He's right. The only thing different between Negros and us greasers, is that we have a better chance
of makin' it because we're white."
Dillon got off of me and leaned up against the tree puttin' a hand on his hip. He opened his mouth to
spew more nonsense. "Thanks for the two cents nobody asked for. Why don't 'chu split we're busy
and you're buggin' us."
"Oh yes, I'm sorry I stopped the mouth-rapin' session you were gonna force on her." Blondie said
pickin' up my books from the ground. He walked over to the tree and handed them to me. "I gonna
guess these books and the ones sittin' next to the tree are yours."
"Yes, thank you!" I said, takin' the books from him gently.
He picked up the two books by the tree and put them on top of the books in my hands. "I suggest
you don't get any closer with him, he's a huckster and he's fast. One minute you're his doll, the next
you're just some broad."
Dillon grabbed his arm, makin' him turn in his direction. "And I suggest you shush up, before I
make you a nice knuckle sandwich to eat. It'll be so good all of your damn teeth will fall out”
Blondie brushed Dillon's hand off him. "Don't get mad 'cause I stopped you. Besides, you were all
over Mrs. Sterling just the other day; followin' her, askin' her dumb stuff, firtin' with her, and buyin'
her gifts. This mornin' you couldn't wait to see her, then you see this girl and you have a crow!"
Dillon looked down with a hurt expression on his face, and kicked a rock. "Man let’s face it, we all
know she ain't gonna go for trash like me. But she's still one classy chassis....super stacked too."
Mrs. Sterling really was a beautiful woman. Her fox red hair was tied to the back with a hair clip
and her eyes were like two beautiful shinin' emeralds. In addition to her beauty, she really was
"stacked"; her breasts were huge ----I could see why any men would her.
As much as I wanted to stand there and talk with two white kids on a clear, quite block----clearer
and quieter than usual----I was startin' to get really hungry. Plus the books were startin' to feel
"Um, I have to go now, I guess I'll see you boys around."
"Where you goin'?" Blondie asked as he turned himself towards me.
"To a corner store." I replied turnin' myself around to walk away. I wasn't gonna continue to stand
there and answer a bunch of questions with them heavy ass books in my hands.
"Well, wait up!" he called out, runnin' up behind me while Dillon followed him. "How you gonna
buy stuff from a store, with all those books? At least let me take some of them.” He took three
books from the stack and carried them under his arm, and the three of us continued to walk.
"You don't have to carry 'em for me, but thank you."
"No it's cool, I don't mind. By the way my name is Dallas; Dallas Evans."
I really liked Blondie's attitude. I thought he was as bold as the button-down plaid shirt he wore
over, and he did have good looks; he seemed protective, gentlemen-like, and laid back. All which I
found to be attractive qualities. He really didn't need to carry my books, nor did he or his brother
have to walk with me. I really didn't understand why they would anyway.
"So, are you goin' to the store the Warman's own?" he asked.
I stopped walkin' and turned to him. "The Warman's store?" I said questionin' him. It wasn't really a
question, it was more of an "you ain't serious right?" type of questionin' ". I couldn't stand the
Warman's, they were disgustin' prejudice folk. They wouldn't let Negros work in their store, but
shol' wanted us buy from them.
"No way in hell would I ever go there again!" I snapped at him.
"Well don't have a cow, it was just a question!" he backed away from me with both eyebrows lifted
and his head cocked to the side. "Why won't you go just go there? What's wrong with the
"My brother always tell me 'don't buy where you can't work' "
"Why can't 'cha work there?'
Lord knows that boy was askin' way too many questions."Is he writin' a book?" I thought to myself.
"I dunno know, why don't you ask them why they don't want Negros workin' there?" I answered
"Wait, y’all talkin' 'bout the Warman's?" Dillon butted in. I almost forgot he was still with us, he
was bein' really quite. He was too busy lookin at stuff in the window displays to hear what we were
"Man I hate them, Mr. Warman got me arrested for stealin' a knife!" he shrugged his shoulders and
threw his hands up. I shook my head and sighed. He just said he stole somethin' like it wasn't a big
"You were tryin' to steal, and he caught you in the act. Did you think he was gonna let you off that
easy? You're lucky, one time he shot a boy for stealin'. A colored boy. You should be glad all he did
was calling Mr. Do-Right on you." I told him, lettin' him know how lucky he really was.
"I don't give a damn what I was doin'! No one calls the heat on me!” he yelled pointin' to himself,
"No one gets Dillon Evans arrested for nothin'!" He was heated, and I mean heated. His face turned
bright red, he eyes widened, and he clutched his fists. He looked bewilder.
Dallas and I stopped walkin' and looked at each other. He gave me a fake grin and looked over to
Dillon. I could tell it wasn't real. His lips said one thing, but his deep emerald colored eyes told that
he knew his brother was gonna do somethin' crazy.
"You know what?" Dillon said puttin' his hands on his hips. His eyes wandered all around while he
paced back and forth. He looked like he was in deep thought. "I'm gonna pay the old man a visit, I
haven't seen him in a while." He began to jog towards the store.
"Wait!" Dallas and I called out to him at the same time. We ran after him. It felt like my heart was
practically gonna beat outta my chest. "What is he gonna do?!" I thought "Please don't let him do
anything crazy!”. The start of my troubles just began.
Chapter Three - Dillon The Greaser Put Me Here
We couldn't catch up fast enough to get him before he got in the store. He swung the door open---
almost brakin' the glass----and looked around for Mr. Warmen.
"Dillon, what 'chu doin'?" Dallas whispered in his ear as we walked in behind him.
Dillon pretended not to hear Dallas. He continued to stand by the entrance of the store, starin' at Mr.
Warmen with his fists still clutched. His face was blank and expressionless. It scared me.
"Dillon answer me!" Dallas hissed, wavin' his hand in Dilon's face " I know you hear me Dillon,
what 'chu 'bout to do?".
Dillon still didn't answer. He didn't remove his eyes from Mr. Warmen. He didn't even blink.
Mr. Warmen was standin' behind the counter stackin' things on the shelves. He turned head to us to
see what all the noise was about.
It's been some years since I've seen him or his family. He now had deep wrinkles around his eyes,
his once black hair was now grayin', and his face was covered with gray facial hair. The only things
that hadn't changed was them dull piercing eyes he had and that evil "I hate you all" look he gave
"What the hell is---"
Mr. Warmen stopped talkin' in the middle of his sentence and turned his body completely around.
His mouth hung open a little and his face went cold-----colder than usual.
"I thought I told you to stay outta my store boy!" he yelled poundin' his fist on the counter, "And
why the hell are you and your brother standin' there with some nigger girl? Probably y'all's little bed
"What did he just call me?" I thought, crossin' my arms over my chest. "he better watch it, this
"nigger girl" was gettin' 'em paid at one point!" I didn't have the guts to say that to 'em out loud
though. I can be a big 'ol chicken sometimes.
Dillon smirked at him. Even though he was smilin' his eyes still looked as blank as they were
before. They darked up too. "Don't 'chu worry 'bout why we're with her, that should be the least of
your worries at this moment." he said lookin' around the store, doin' a little hop on each square tile
on the floor. It looked like he was playin' hopscotch. I almost laughed.
"What the hell is he doin'?" I thought. I guess Dallas was thinkin' the same thing since he frowned
and squinted his eyes while he watched him.
"You threatin' me boy?" Mr. Warmen asked. He lifted an eyebrow as leaned over the cluttered
"Yes, yes I am but if you wanna take it another way, be my guest!" Dillon said calm and quietly. He
stopped hoppin' around once he got closer to the counter. He was only a couple of steps away from
it. He put his hands in his jacket pockets.
Mr. Warmen moved an arm off the counter and bent over to the side a little. I knew what he was
reachin' for----that rifle he always had hidden behind the counter. "Don't play with me boy. I killed a
nigger boy once and I'll do the same to you, you no good stealin' piece of trash."
I knew if Dillon kept givin' Mr. Warmen lip, he would've shot 'em and threw 'em outside to bleed to
death, right in front of the store. Mr. Warmen was just that evil. If he even felt like you were lookin'
at him the wrong way, he'd slit your throat.
Dallas handed me back the books he took from me and went over to Dillon.
"Dillon please, think about Momma. Think about how heart broken she'd be if she finds out you
went back to the cage or even worse; that 'chu died!" Dallas pleaded. He practically got on his
knees and begged him.
"No one runs me over, Dallas. He snitched on me to the heat and got me put away. I'm not lettin'
"Dillon, you're too busy thinkin' about yourself and how you feel, that you're not hearin' me out.
Momma works her ass off for us day and night, she doesn't need another thing to worry about. Plus
if you do somethin' crazy, you'll just get put away again!" Dallas continued to try and reason with
"You better listen to your brother, 'cause I won't be showin' you no mercy. Why should I give mercy
to a dirty hood who tired to steal from me?No one steals from the Warmens!"
"Keep on callin' me dirty. We'll see who's the dirty trash when your dead body is layin' in a bag, in a
garbage can!" Dillon swiftly pulled a pistol outta his jacket and pointed it at Mr. Warmen. He kept
his other hand buried in his other pocket.
"Mason, Zachary get the guns. We have a trouble maker out here, get ready to shoot!" Mr. Warmen
called out, not takin' his eyes off Dillon.
"Wonderful, now he's gonna get his two hench men to save him!" I thought to myself. Mason and
Zachary were his sons. Mason was just as evil as he was, Zachary on the other hand wasn't exactly
"evil", just boy who was a hypocrite and contradicted himself.
When I was goin' to Warman's store, Zachary would stare and pretend to fix things on the shelves so
he could follow me around in the aisles. When ever his father or Mason wasn't lookin' he'd crack a
smile at me. There were times we would see each other in random places and if no one was around
we'd talk for a while.
I remember we got into an argument 'bout somethin'. I don't remember what is was about, but I
remember he called a "chinky-eyed nigger". That was the last time I saw or talked to him. That was
also the last time I would ever try to make friends with whites.
Mason and Zachary rushed outta the storage room armed with pistols. I saw Mason first then
Zachary right after him. They looked through all three aisles with their guns raised before headin' to
As they looked in the aisles Mason glanced at me, not really payin' my any attention. Mason walked
past Zachary and went to the next aisle. Zachary did the same as Mason, but when he glanced he
was taken aback.
His baby blue eyes stared at me in awe. He looked at me as if his heart had done dropped at the
sight of me. He looked away and turned on his heel to follow Mason, takin' more glances at me as
he went to the next aisle. Him and Mason had really grown up just in the three years years I hadn't
seen them. They looked like men now.
Once Mason and Zachary got closer to the counter, Dallas became nervous and frantic. To my most
definite surprise, Dallas took a pistol outta his pants pocket and cocked it. It was a surprise to find
out Dillon carried a gun on 'em, but I wouldn't of thought Dallas carried one. He didn't come off as
the type who would have one.
Everyone was pointin' a gun at each other; Mr. Warman pointed his rifle at Dillon, Dillon pointed
one pistol Mr. Warmen and another pointed at Zachary---Which is the reason he kept his other hand
in his pocket---Zachary pointed his pistol at Dillon, Dallas pointed his pistol at Mason, and Mason
pointed his pistol at Dallas.
This was gonna be the bloodiest mess ever. I had to leave, I couldn't be a witness of this nor be a
victim of a tragic death.
I pushed the door open with my side tryin' to make a quite escape. Thing is, I forgot there had
always been a bell on the door that made noise any time you opened the door. The sound of the bell
ringin' made them all to look in my direction. They glared at me.
"Where are you gonin'?" they all asked at the same time
I pulled my body off the door and backed away from it. "Home?" I said nervously, hopin' they
would let me go.
"No you ain't!" they said. It was like they had been programed to say the same thing at the same
"As a matter of fact, stand over here, where I can keep an eye on you." Mason said pointin' to the
space in between him and Zachary. I did as he asked and stood in the spot he was pointin' to. I
wasn't tryin' to get shot now.
"Dad, why didn't you tell us they had pistols?" Mason asked shrewdly, "we could've got shot, and I
was expectin' a bunch of niggers---well there's one here, but still, not these trashy greasers again!"
"You know what'chall's people in this town's problem?" Dallas began to go off on him, "yall go
around judgin' other people 'cause they don't fit your standards, when you're not even at high
standards yall selves!"
"We're at a higher class than you, greaser!" Mason spat at him.
"How much of a higher class do you think yall are?" Dillon threw his head back and chuckled, he
really found what Mason said humorous "yall live in half way descent houses and dress poorly just
like us greasers. I could understand if yall people were Soc but yall basically live the same way as
Mr. Warmen tilted his rifle up a little, his index finger fumbled with the trigger. "I'm done listenin'
to yall bicker back 'n forth, we were supposed to be at the other shop by now. We're runin' late
'cause of these two chumps."
I guess that's why the store wasn't full of costumers----they were leavin' to go to their other store.
The Warmens owned to stores; one made for Negros and the other for white folk.
"Wait dad!" Zachary yelled reachin' his hand out to Mr. Warmen, gesturin' for him to stop, "Let's
just call the police and let them take care of 'em. There's no need to shoot 'em!"
"We don't have time to be waitin' for the police!"
"Dad please, It'll take more time cleanin' up blood and plus you don't need to be goin' to any more
Mr. Warmen stood in silence for a moment, thinkin' over his opinions. "Alright, go a head and call
'em" he said.
The whole time we waited for the police, Mason continued to talk jazz to Dillon and Dallas, and
they kept makin' come-backs to the dumb things he said. Mr. Warmen didn't say a word, he just
looked through some magazines not carin' about what was gonin' on.
Everyone acted like nothin' just happened----like they weren't all just pointin' guns at each other a
minute ago. At least everyone put their guns away, it made everyone calmer.
Zachary practically stared a hole in me. His stare was cold and sad. He looked at me as if to say
"how could you just leave and stop talkin' to me?". If that's what he was thinkin' at that moment, he
had no right to feel that way, when it was his fault I stopped talkin' to him in the first place.
I looked around the store tryin' avoid eye contact with him, but it was hard for me not to look at him
when I could feel him starin' me down.
It didn't take the police no time at all to get to Mr. Warmen's store. That wasn't much of a surprise to
me, all you had to was say was "there's a negro" and they'd be on the way. Shoot, they'd tear up the
whole town if they needed to.
eight police officers made their way up to the door.
I started sweatin' like a pig. I never had to deal with the police and I had never been to jail. Fear
took over my body and I began to shake.
"This is it...." I thought "all my plans for the future will now be cut short!"
Part Two Of Chapter Three: Here Comes The Pigs
The officers walked in with their hands on their guns, ready to shoot anyone who made a
misconstrued move. They leaned up against the windows near the door; four of them on one side
and four on the other.
I stood there frozen, not darin' to make any sudden movements. I couldn't believe this was
happenin'. I wanted to pinch myself to see if the was a dream but whether I thought it was a dream
or not, I didn't move an inch. My biggest fear of all my fears was getin' shot; even in dreams.
"Hello Mr. Warmen." One of the officers said.
Mr. Warmen was so into the magazine he was reading, he almost completely blocked everything
else out. Comin' back to his senses, Mr. Warmen shook his head and turned to the officer who had
spoke to him.
"Oh hey, I wasn't expecting yall so soon." he said surprised
"Of course sir, we came as quickly as possible when we heard you were havin' trouble over here."
The officer chuckled a little.
What he really meant to say was "when we heard a nigger and two greasers were over here". Don't
get me wrong, they still would've came quickly if they heard a bunch of Negros or poor whites were
causin' trouble. But poor whites and Negros causin' trouble together? That was somethin'
everyone---includin' myself---would question. So of course they came quicker than usual.
"Well thank yall for being so concerned." Mr. Warmen said, then he went back to readin' his
magazine. What ever he was readin' must've been really good.
"Concerned my ass!" I thought to myself, I really wish I had the courage to say my thoughts out
I found it funny how Mr. Warmen acted so calm, respectful, and business-like around them officers.
When he was around other people he couldn't act like that to save his life.
"Yes sir, and I see the same trouble maker who tried to steal from here before came back." The
officer narrowed his eyes at Dillon.
"Yep, I sure did!" Dillon called out "it's nice to see you again, officer shit-face."
"Now you listen to me boy---" The officer started
"I don't feel like listenin' to you." he cut him off "anyways, if they didn't threaten to shoot me if I
left, I would've been gone!"
"Shut the hell up and put your hands in the air!" The officer yelled, he was grippin' his gun.
Dallas put a hand on Dillon's shoulder "Can we just go to jail peacefully without getin' shot?" he
whispered. Or so he tried to whisper. I could hear him from across the room.
"How can someone go to jail peacefully?" Dillon asked, leanin' his head in Dallas's direction.
"I said put your hands up! Right now!"
Dallas's arms shot strait up in the air, but of course Dillon had to prove to everyone that was tough
and wasn't afraid of them. He refused to put his hands up like he was told.
"This is your last warning!" he shouted "I'm gonna count to five and if your hands aren't up I will
Dillon pretended to yarn, not carin' about the officer's threat. Dallas nudged him with his elbow
while keepin' his other arm raised. Dillon nudged him back, then put his hands in his jacket.
I could tell he was enjoyin' the officers anger. He was silently laughin' at him.
"That's it!" the officer screeched, his voice was so loud and scary, everyone in the room jumped
back in fright.
"One!" he yelled out, he paused for a second before goin't on to the next number.
He paused again.
He paused again.
He paused again, but this time he snatched his gun outta the pouch.
Dillon was really pushin' his luck, he was actually gonna let this man get up to five and shoot him
Before the officer could say "five", I let out a loud cough so he would focus his attention on me.
Thankfully it worked, I got him includin' everyone else to look at me.
"Say Little Zac, didn't you tell me these two came with a Negro?" the officer asked.
"Yes, she's who I was talkin' about." Zachary pointed to me.
"Well I'll be, I thought the Negro would've been a boy." He looked at me surprisingly "well, I'll get
to her in a minute, I gotta them boys outta here without a lot of commotion." He pulled out a pair of
hand cuffs and walked away.
While him and the other officers were hand cuffin' Dillon and Dallas, I noticed Zachary kept
glancing from Mr. Warmen, to the officers, to me. Without looking at me, he stuffed a little piece of
notebook paper he was writin' on, in my shirt.
I turned to him to ask why he was doing this, but he put his index finger over his lips, gesturin' for
me to keep quite. He leaned his face towards the side of mine.
"Read it when you either get outta the Interrogation room, or---hopefully not---outta jail. Don't read
it in front of anyone." He whispered in my ear. I nodded and he stood back in his original position.
I wondered what the note was about. Was he apologizin' for callin' me a 'chingy-eyed nigger'? Was
he gonna ask why I suddenly stopped seein' him? I had no idea.
I was so busy thinkin' about the note, I didn't notice Dillon and Dallas had been taken outside and
that I was next to be arrested.
The officer came over with another pair of hand cuffs. "Alright girl" the officer said "I don't want no
trouble now, just put your hands out so we can this over with."
I did what I was told and held my hands out for him. He locked the cuffs on my wrests, looped his
arm around mine, and proceeded to walk me to the police car. I was already beginin' to feel like a
caged bird with those hand cuffs on.
As we walked out the store, I watched the other officers put Dallas and Dillon in two different
police cars. Dallas got in the car he was lead to calmly and easily with no fuss, while Dillon tried to
break away from the officers that were takin' him. He kicked and yelled at them; his actions
reminded me of how white children acted when they couldn't get their way. He had a fit.
"Get'cho hands off me, you donut-eatin' bastards! I bet you get paid with donuts!" Dillon shouted
Those were the last words I heard from him before another officer opened the door of the car I was
being put in, and shoved me inside. Everything else he had said from then on was faint and not
Out of the back window of the police car, I watched Dillon get beaten by the officers, as I was being
driven away to the police station
At that moment I knew there was no need for me to pinch myself. What was happenin' was not no
dream. This was real, this was reality, and I had to face it.
Part Three Of Chapter Three: Being Interrogated
Inside the police station, they took me into a dark room. The light from the hallways outside of the
room brightened it up a bit. It was still dark but I could now see a table and a chair placed in the
middle of the room.
The officer who opened the door of the police car I got in, walked over to the table and reached up
above him to turn on the light. The officer who hand cuffed me closed the door behind us and
"Have a seat in the chair." he commanded, gesturin' his hand over to the table for me to sit. I did as
he asked; I went to the chair and flopped myself down in it.
"What's your name girl?" he asked.
"Onika Scottman" I told him.
"Alright then," he said. "why don't 'chu start by explainin' to me why you, a negro, tried to help two
poor white boys rob Mr. Warmen's store?"
"Whoa there, wait just a minute now!" I said. I've never stolen anything in my life; not even a
crumb out of a bag of chips, and I surly wouldn't help anyone steal.
"I didn't help anyone steal anything---in fact no one was stealing. Dillon; you know the kid with the
leather jacket? He was tryin' to get revenge on Mr. Warmen for sendin' him to jail." I said
"Then why were you helpin' him get revenge on Mr. Warmen?" he asked.
"I wasn't helpin' him get revenge, I was goin' to help his brother stop him but I ended up standin'
there watchin' the whole thing go down." I said in shame. I did nothin' to help stop this mess from
"So you say" he huffed. "you're probably just coverin' up for them boys."
"No sir, I'm not, I swear it on the bible."
"How do you know them boys?"
"I meet them at the new school I got transported to; the all-white school."
"And how long have you known them?"
"I just met them today, Sir"
He looked over to other officer and laughed. "You just met them today?" the other officer cackled
"Lord, we're standin' in front of one hellafied bed wench!"
I felt my face heat up. This was the second time I had been called a "bed wench" because Dillon and
Dallas followed me and wouldn't leave me alone. I wanted to tell them two idiots off, but they were
officers and I had heard plenty of messed up stories of what they did to colored people if they felt
they were disrespectin' them.
"What do you mean by me bein' a 'bed wench', Sir?" I asked as calmly as possible.
He looked at me with a confused face, like I should've known why called me a "bed wench". "You
were wallkin' around causin' trouble with two white boys you don't know much about. You
obviously wanted either one or both of them to bed you!"
"I wasn't causin' trouble with them and I surly didn't wanna be 'beded' by neither one of 'em!" I
"Oh come on" he exclaimed in hysterics. "just admit it, you wanted them to screw you and that's the
It took everything in me to keep from losin' my head. I was fed up with this jazzy nonsense they
were talkin'. I might not of have an in counter with the police before, but I knew what they were all
about. They only cared about savin' the lives of white folks and could give a damn whether colored
folks were alive or dead. Hell, at times it seems like they didn't even care about the whites folks.
They tried to make colored folks look like animistic buffoons. They made colored men look like
thievin' rapists and colored women look like whores who would sleep around with anyone;
especially if that person had money.
I wanted to be friends with Dillon and Dallas, not "bedded" or "screwed" by them. It had been a
long time since I had good friends. My old friends and their families moved away to have better
lives; I couldn't blame 'em, I would do the same if I could.
I was quite and kept to myself most of the time, so since then, I hadn't really made any new friends.
I didn't think anyone even knew I existed. It sure seemed that way. Why just earlier today at lunch I
sat at a table by myself and no one seemed to notice nor care, besides Dillon and Dallas, who
glanced over to me every second they could.
"It's not the truth Sir, I wanted no such thing to happen, I swear it." I said, reassurin' them that I was
"Sure, and why were you with them after school had ended?" he asked.
"I was just tryin' to go to the corner store around where I live and they decided they wanted to come
with me. They followed me, Sir." I answered.
"Sure they followed you" he said, makin' air quotations. "Why didn't you make them go away?"
I scoffed at that question. This man couldn't of asked me such a dumb thing as that. I had to hold
myself back from laughin' in his face.
"I told them to leave me alone all day, it didn't matter what I said, they wouldn't leave." I made
myself sound weak to add a little innocents to my case.
He sighed rubbing the back of his neck, then he looked over to the other officer. "Can you think of
any more questions to ask?" he asked him.
The other officer leaned against the table, and en-wound his fingers together into the "prayer"
position. "No, sadly I can't." he answered
I sighed in relieve. Bein' interrogated wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, and it was all now
finally over. No more havin' to sit in a dark room, tryin' to explain what happened earlier to two
officers who don't really care about what I'm tellin' them. No more havin' to listen to them snicker
and jeer at my answers. Now I could go home a try to pretend none of this happened.
"But, I do feel like she could be lyin'. I think we should ask the questions again and maybe we can
think of some more." with them words he kill my chance of gettin' out soon.
They asked them same questions over, and over, and over again. They yelled at me. They slammed
their fists on the table. They got in my face. They paced around to table like vultures around a dead
body. Every time I would answer their questions with the same answers I had given before, they
would yelled out "liar!".
Their way of tryin' to get me to tell the truth was scary and gruesome. I wasn't lying and I wasn't
gonna to change anything I told them. Why would I when it was all true? I had everything I needed
so I had no reason to steal, and I wouldn't help someone I barley knew get revenge on anybody. No
matter how much I didn't like Mr. Warmen, I wouldn't go out and try to pull the stunt Dillon just
tried to pull.
Once they realized I wasn't gonna give them any new answers, they stormed outta the room like a
couple of mad apes. They kept me in the room---for what it felt like---a long time. I sat there under
the deem light, surrounded by a circle of darkness and silence. For some reason I felt comfort all
alone in that room, I almost wanted to take a nap there.
All of a sudden I heard the door swing open and was knocked outta my peace-filled wonderland.
The officer who hand cuffed me came strutin' in. He had a stack of papers in his hand.
"Alright, we'll let you go for now, since we don't have any more questions to taunt you with" he
said, makin' his way over to the table "but if we find anything linked to you, I now know where you
live and who you live with." he waved the stack of papers in my face then threw them onto the
table, causin' them to scatter all over it. I'm guessin' the papers were proof of all this information on
me he claimed to have. I didn't bother to look through them to find out though.
"This incident will go in your record if we find somein', and don't 'chu try and leave this town until
have every bit of information on this neither. I've seen you 'round here a bunch of times. I've been
watchin' what you do. I'll find you sooner or later."
I shuttered at the last sentence that came outta his mouth. "I've seen you 'round here a bunch of
times. I've been watchin' what you do.", them words repeated in my mind over and over. That pig
just told me he was watchin' me before this situation had ever occurred. Hearin' someone say that
would creep anybody out, and on top of that the way he said it was lustful.
"Okay" I said nervously, standin' up from the table.
Before I could even get to the door, the officer pulled me back to him. His face came close to mine.
Our faces were so close, we looked like could almost be kissin'. The tip of his nose touched my
nose, and his deep gray eyes glared down into mine.
"What do you say to me girl?" he asked. I didn't understand the point of him askin' me what my
name was earlier, if he was gonna keep callin' me "girl". I also didn't understand his question, what
was I supposed to say to him?
"Um....Goodbye?" I said, givin' him a fake grin.
"Nope, try again!" he retorted. He tightened up his grip on my arm. A rush of panic took over me
while I tried to think up somethin' new to say.
"Um th--thank you for not puttin' me in jail, Sir?" I stuttered.
"That sounds much better than your first answer. I guess I'll take it." he said.
As soon as he let go of my arm, I made a mad dash for the door. I walked down the same hall way
me and the officers came from, but It too long before I was stopped again. This time it wasn't by an
officer, it was by the sight of my weary mama standin' at the front desk, talkin' to an officer.
Lookin' at her tired drained face made my stomach feel uneasy. I didn't want her to find out about
what happened earlier, but now knew everything. She must had been worried sick about me and the
last thing she needed was more worries. I definitely was gonna get it when I got home.
"Onika, be prepared for a butt woppin'..." I told myself as I walked up to her.
Part Four Of Chapter Three: Freedom
The officer behind the desk peeped around mama. "You say your name is Annika Scottman, right?"
he asked her
"Yes, that's right." she nodded respondin' to the question.
"Well, I believe that's your child right there." The officer said pointin' to me.
She turned her head in my direction and her weary eyes glared at me. I held my head down to the
floor and hobbled over to her like an injured cub. My eyes analyzed the black and gray spots on the
marble flooring. I couldn't bare to look at my mama's face. There were dark bags and deep lines
under her eyes; she looked like she had been punched. Who knew the lack of sleep could make
someone look so horrible; I now understood the meanin' of the term "beauty sleep".
Mama couldn't possibly get enough sleep workin' two jobs seven days a week. She had a job
workin' as a maid for the Livingston family in the morning, from ten to six. Then in the afternoon,
she worked at an all night colored bar from nine to twelve.
She got a job at the bar when my brother, Omari, had broken his leg while workin' in the coal
mines. Without Omari's paychecks, mama wasn't able to pay all of the bills on time and could
barley put food on the table, so she had to find another job to make ends meet. After his leg healed
he was able to go back to work, but mama kept the bar job, in case Omari ever got hurt again or laid
"Yes, that's my child." Mama said through clenched teeth. "thank you for lettin' me know about this
"Sure, no problem" the officer said in a non-carin' negligent way. "stay outta trouble girl, you don't
look fit for jail." he chuckled to himself.
Mama gave him an irritated smirk and headed for the door. She wiggled her index finger for me to
Mama didn't say a word on our way home, she didn't even look in my direction. She refused to
make any eye contact with me at all. She even bumped into strangers on the street and refused to
say sorry or excuse me. It wasn't like her to be so rude. She was bein' hostile towards everyone. All
the tension between us made what usually was a short walk home, feel like a very long one.
When we finally got to the house she unlocked the door and stormed into the livin' room, leavin' me
to lock the door behind her. She laid her bag on the old worn out sofa and eased herself it to the
recliner next to it. She crossed her legs and arms and looked down at the floor. That's what she did
whenever she was in deep thought or needed to calm down.
I limped up the stairs to get the ol "family whippin' belt" for her. I had a feelin' that was the next
thing she was gonna ask for. That belt had been passed down from generation to generation and was
used on many of my family members, includin' my mama. It wasn't used much on me since I was
an obedient child for the most part, but mama shol' had to use it on Omari.
"Where you goin'?" Mama asked with a weary tone in her voice.
"Goin' to get the belt for you." I said stoppin' in the middle of the stair way.
"I don't know why, all I'm gonna do is talk to you" she said adjusting her position in the chair. "I
don't feel like beatin' on no one right now. Plus I gotta go to the bar in about an hour and it takes a
long time to get there, so I ain't got time for that. What I want you to do right now is have a seat on
this here sofa and explain to me what possessed you to do what you did with them two white boys.
But quickly, I don't have all day"
I nervously scurried down the stairs and plooped down on the couch, takin' a deep breath before
startin' the story. "Well, at school I meet the boys in the auditorium and in class we had to work
together so we pretty much were hangin' together most of the day. They caught up with me after
school and wanted to walk me to a corner store." I pause waitin' for her to say somethin' about them
takin' me some where but she shockingly stayed silent.
She raised her eyebrows and her eyes narrowed at me. "Keep goin' I didn't tell you to stop talkin'. I
know that can't be the end of the story, I wanna hear the whole thing." she fussed.
I continued on with the story once more. "All right then, the one named Dillon over heard me and
Dallas---the other one--- talkin' about Mr. Warman's store. He got mad and started Hoopin' and
hollerin' about how Mr. Warman got him put in jail for tryin' to steal. He got so frosted about it he
decided to get revenge on him. Dallas and I tried to stop him but he pulled a gun out on Mr.
Warman. Zachary convinced Mr. Warman that he schould just call the police instead of shootin'
Mama sat there blankly tryin' to fathom everything I told her and decide whether I was bein' truthful
or not. "Fine, I'll take this little story of yours as the truth since I have to get down to the bar now.
But I don't ever wanna see or hear about you hangin' around them two boys again, you hear me?
You just got in that school and they've already gotten you in trouble." She said gettin' up for the
"I'm serious Onika, I don't want 'chu around them hooligans no more! Understand?" she said. She
grabbed her bag off of the couch and faced the door with her head turned to me waitin' for an
"Yes mama." I replied in a low disappointed tone. Although I would miss havin' Dillon and Dallas's
company, I understood why mama felt the way she did. If I kept hangin' around them all three of us
would have burnin' crosses on our lawns and get beat up and lynched. It was too much of a risk to
"Good, dinners in the fridge. I'll be home at the regular time, don't do anything crazy while I'm gone
and do everything you're supposed to." Mama said, and with that, she walked out the door and
locked it behind her.
After eatin' dinner and washin' the left over dishes mama left in the sink from this mornin', I sat in
front of the television set watchin' one of my favorite shows "The Little Rascals". For the rest of the
night I watched TV tryin' to forget everything that happened. TV for me was like alcohol, I watched
a lot of it to wash away my problems and turn my pain into laughter.
I was so busy watchin' cartoons that I hadn't noticed it was now eleven o'clock at night. I turned off
the TV set and rushed up the stair to my room. Mama was gonna be home in an hour and she
couldn't know I stayed up two hours passed my bed time. I didn't want her to be anymore anger at
me than she already was.
I pounced on top of my bed and ruffled through my bed sheets to find my pajamas. Once I found
them I laid both the top and the bottom on the edge of my bed where I could easily see them. I
began to undress from top to bottom. As I was takin' off my shirt a piece of paper fell out of it. It
was Zachary's note, which I had completely forgotten about. I snatched it up and eagerly unfolded
it, carefully readin' it word for word.
"I haven't seen you in a long time...three years to be exact. I though you should know, your little
boyfriend who thinks he's a bad ass; his bail's probably gonna be about two hundred dollars, more
or less. I'll happily give it to you, but only if you come work in the shop with me. Meet me at the
shop after school and we'll talk."
When I finished readin' the note, I crumbled it up and threw it down harshly on to the floor. I
expected it to be heart-filled, instead all I got was a job offer to work in his father's store so I could
help Dillon's idiot self get outta jail. He didn't even say "I missed you", he just mention he we hadn't
seen each other in a while, as if I hadn't known. That made my blood boil to no end. I felt so hurt
and angry. I wanted to go up to his house and throw that dang note in his face.
I kicked the note away from where I stood and finished changin' out of me clothes into my pajamas.
Today had been the craziest experience I've ever had in my life; Goin' to a school with white kids,
basically bein' sexually harassed by a greaser, watchin' guys point guns at each other, and getting
arrested---it was all too much for me to take in. So much had happened in just one day.
I pulled back the covers and hopped into bed, smotherin' my body in the sheets. I needed to atleast
try to get as much shut eye as I could. Tomorrow was gonna be another long day.
Chapter Four - Being Black Mailed
I woke up earlier than I needed to, thinkin' about Zachary's pathetic note kept me up all night and I
couldn't sleep a wink. I got outta the bed expectin' a welcomin' aroma of breakfast; fried eggs,
bacon, sausage, flapjacks, biscuits---Anything at all---But I surprisingly smelt nothin'. I knew
somethin' had to be wrong with mama. She always cooked for me and Omari, no matter how angry
she got with us.
I cautiously slipped outta my room and crept down the stairs, lookin' all around me on my way
down. The usual sounds of pots clangin' in the sink didn't ring in my ears like always---it was very
silent in the house, which I thought was a sure sign that no one but me was here. When I got
completely down the stairs I suddenly saw the shadow of a person comin' from the kitchen.
I looked around for the bat mama had leanin' up against the stair way. She kept it there just in case
there was ever any problems and she needed somethin' to quickly pick up. It was never to be moved
or touched unless need be---and right now it was needed. My heart began to race as I grabbed the
neck of the bat. I held it in swingin' position and slide over to the entrance of the kitchen.
I pinned my back up against the wall and took deep breathes to calm down. My mind began to think
about the consequences of me runin' in that kitchen and beatin' the mess outta who ever was in
there. This person could have a gun and shoot me. If I accidentally beat them to death I could go to
jail. If I didn't do anything I could die.
I shook the thoughts from my head and went back to prowl mode, then mouthed the words "one two
three" before I jumped into the kitchen. To my surprise, my eyes meet with a pair light hazelnut
colored ones. It was my bother.
"Girl, 'chu doin' with that bat?" Omari asked washin' off a ladle. "mama said don't touch it unless
there's a problem and I shol' don't see one happenin' right now."
I clutched my chest and took a sigh of relief as I leaned the bat up against the entrance of the
kitchen. "I thought someone was robin' the house or somethin', but I see it's just you" I snapped at
him. "and the real question here is what 'chu doin' here and where's mama?"
"That's actually two questions not one" he smart-mouthed me. "but to answer them both, the reason
why mama ain't here is because the Livingstons said if she wanna get paid for the hour she didn't
work yesterday, she had to get up there earlier to work. And the-"
"How long has she been gone and why would they need her to get up so early?" I asked intruptin'
him. It was five-thirty in the morning---way earlier than the usual time mama went to play "maid"
for the Livingstons. The Livingston family were just like every other white family that was above
middle class---stuck up with their noses in the air lookin' down on the less fortunate.
"Damn, you didn't even let me finish what I was sayin'!" Omari said in an iritated tone. "Anyway,
she left about thirty minutes ago, and how do you supose I know what they have her doin'? I don't
know nothin'! They probably havin' her take care them little annoyin' ankle bitters of theirs."
He was right, that's probably what they were havin' her do this early in the mornin'. It killed me that
a lot of white people sat up and talked about how they couldn't stand colored people and despised
them, but they shol' didn't seem to have a problem hirin' them to work. Of course there were white
folks who were really nice to their maids, but the Livingstons sure weren't. They were rude,
inpatient, and very demandin'.
"You still wanna hear why I ain't left yet?" Omari asked
"No, not really I no longer care anymore." I teased.
"Well forget 'chu then!" he said puttin' both hands his hips and rollin' his neck.
"So I'm gonna guess Mama didn't make breakfast...." I said lookin' at Omari's big 'ol pot of lumpy
grits sittin' on the counter. When mama made grits they were thick but smooth at the same time,
that's how I could tell she wasn't the one who made it.
"You damn skippy she didn't! Why would she when she had to get up super early just 'cause
someone wanted to hang with white boys and got herself in some trouble?" he grunted side-eyein'
Mama obviously must of told him earlier this mornin', other wise he wouldn't of known, and I
would've made sure of it for reasons like this. Omari was the type of person who never could get
over things like this and continuously brought them up, especially in arguments.
"Well someone wanted to be left alone and kept to herself, but them two white boys kept messin'
with her so she just went along with it, because that someone didn't wanna cause a scene." I shot
back. For some reason everyone wanted to blame the incident all on me, like I was the only one
who had somethin' to do with it. "Anyways, can I have some?"
"Hell naw!" he huffed stretchin' out the world hell. "I slaved over this stove tryin' make this nasty
lookin' crap all by myself and I plan on eatin' it, all by myself. A real man shouldn't even be cookin',
that's a woman's job."
I laughed to myself. Did he really just say he "slaved over the stove"? It doesn't take long to make
grits, it probably only took him about fifteen to twenty minutes to make it. But of course Omari had
to dramatize it, just like he does everythin' else. Then he had the nerve to say it's a woman's "job" to
cook. I tell you one thing, he wouldn't say them same words if he was standin' around a crowd of
feminists. He'd keep quite---very quite.
"Aw come on, do you really think you can eat all that all by yourself?" I mocked him. "you made
half a pot of it."
"Girl please, as much as I eat this'll be gone in about thirty minutes" he raised his caterpillar
eyebrows and rolled his eyes. "you better make you own and stay yo' self away from mine." he took
a spoon outta the dish drainer and began to eat his grits from the pot.
"Fine then, I'll make my own you greedy negro." I said under my breath as I reached above the
counter to grab another pot so I could make my own grits.
After breakfast I did my daily routine; I washed up, checked myself out in the mirror, and pick out
the clothes I wanted to wear. I put on my favorite poodle skirt I had saved up for and a faded pink
shirt with flower shaped buttons, and darted down the stairs once more. I took too long gettin' ready
and now I only had fifteen minutes to get to school. I was gonna be late for sure.
Omari had left while I was gettin' ready to get dressed. Since he had left way before the time I
needed to head to school, I could be a couple minutes late without 'em openin' his big mouth on me
I stepped out on the front porch lettin' the cool breeze blow through my hair and analyzed the block.
It was a busy day as usual; kids were gettin' ready for school, grown ups waited for buses, and
women sat of their porches gossipin' and havin' other conversations.
Suddenly I heard rustlin comin' from the bushes on the right side of me. I squint my eyes and
moved my head closer to the sound out of curiosity. The sound continued. I inched over to the right
of me and looked down from the porch. I thought it could've been a stray animal snoopin' around
and that I was worried for nothin', but a pair of dirty white converses appeared out from the bottom
of the bushes. There was a person hindin' in them.
Part Two Of Chapter Four: Who's Hiding?
I stepped down the stairs without out takin' my eyes off the bush and picked up the nearest branch I
could get to. I held it in swingin' position just like I did the bat as I silently tiptoed over to the bush.
"Hey, who are you, and what you you doin' in my bushes!" I said just above a whisper. No answer
came out. "I ain't playin', you better answer me!" I said a little louder. I still got no answer from the
person, but I could see strands of blonde hair stickin' outta the branches like thorns.
"Okay, since you ain't gonna answer I'ma count to five and if you don't say nothin', I'll start swingin'
on you!" I warned the person. In all honesty I would most likely start screamin' before before I ever
beat someone, I would have to feel like I'm being endangered---like earlier in the kitchen---or be
very angry at that point of time.
A white handkerchief tied to a stick stuck out from the top of the bushes and waved around. It was
like those "I surrender" flags in the military. The flag then disappeared and a pair of pale hands
shoved their way through the branches, makin' them spread apart. A head full of wild blonde hair
appeared, I wasn't able to see the persons face clearly until he blew his hair upward and outta the
way. A smile wiped across his pink pouty lips. The stranger wasn't a stranger at all---at least not a
complete one; it was Dallas.