by Lynn Moon
“Are you scared of me or something?”
“Why are you being so nice?” My eyes scanned the schoolyard. Someone had to be watching from somewhere. I just had to find them.
“I think you’re okay,” he replied.
“Who put you up to this?”
“No one. I mean, if you don’t like to have friends, I’ll leave you alone.”
As he handed me my books, guilt pounded me from inside. For some odd reason, I didn’t want to ignore him.
“I’m sorry for being rude,” I said. “I’m Pete.”
“Nice to meet you, Pete. So, why do you always sit by yourself? Don’t like the other girls, or do you not take showers?”
I laughed.
“Nice to see you smile,” he said.
“I guess I’m afraid of them.”
As we walked into the school, I told Mike about the intentions. He’d flinch or frown, as I talked.
“What jerks,” he said. “You seem like a nice person. Why would they do those things? And you’re kinda cute, too.”
We both laughed.
“Don’t know. I try to be nice to everyone,” I said. “At DA, they hurt me. Here, they just ignore me.”
Mike laughed. “Actually, that just might be a good thing.”
I smiled. He had a point.
We entered the classroom, together. With no assigned seats, he sat down at my table. My eyes kept glancing at the empty seat near the front, where he usually sat.
“I’ll miss you staring at me from up there,” I said.
Raising one eyebrow, he grinned. “Give me your number and I’ll call later.”
We shared numbers and for the rest of the day, my whole body tingled. Did I just make a friend? Or, was this some kind of a nasty plot to hurt me?
“You seem happy today,” Charles said, as we entered the house. “You haven’t shut up since we left the school. I don’t believe you’ve ever talked so much.”
Not wanting to blush, I giggled and turned away.
“That’s okay,” he said, laughing. “You deserve a little happiness. So, when will you tell me his name?”
“Whose name?”
“The boy,” he said, “that’s got you so worked up.”
“Mike.”
“Well, I’m glad you finally found a friend.”
That afternoon, I breezed through my homework. It was as if I knew the answers before I read the questions. Everything felt new and fresh. Nothing was beyond my reach. Winter was only a month away. Our trees seemed to sway with a renewed burst of energy, just like me. Saddlebag snorted as soon as he saw me. As we galloped through the small valley, the fresh crisp air chilled me on the outside, while warming me on the inside.
“Slow down, Pete,” Grandmother said, as I inhaled my dinner. “Why such a rush?”
“Oh, nothing,” I lied.
Later, I wrote his name backwards on my shower door. Water drops fell as my finger traced through the letters. If his friendship wasn’t real, I doubt I’d ever trust another person. My thoughts felt like a game of ping-pong. One minute I was happy over finding a friend. The next my fear nudged at me from some place dark, warning me not to be so gullible. Shaking away the gloomy feelings, I grabbed my warm towels.
Wiping the steam from my mirror, a girl I didn’t know stared back at me. Her eyes, shadowed by dark circles, drooped in a sadness that almost dominated her life’s essence. It was as if the devil himself had stolen her soul. Would she ever find it? Where could he have hidden it?
Sitting on my bed, time floated away as I deleted the nasty texts. One at a time, my finger tapped against the delete button. I prayed he would call. Then I’d pray he wouldn’t. Wanting to escape into nothingness, I slid under my covers. As I pulled the heavy comforter over my head, my phone chirped.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Pete.” It was Mike.
“Hi.”
“Sorry for the late call. My parents wanted to go out for dinner.”
“Where’d yah go?” I asked.
“There’s a place around the corner that we go to all the time. My uncle owns it. I eat the pizza and then hit the video games. How was your evening?”
“Good,” I said. “I rode my horse and visited my towers.”
“You have a horse?”
“Yep, my dad has six.”
“Six horses?”
“Uh huh, Saddlebag’s my horse. He’s an Irish Draught. Black with a white tail and mane, and so gentle.”
“I’d love to meet him someday.”
“Sure,” I said, wanting to share my precious Saddlebag with him. “Can you ride?”
“Don’t know.”
“How can you not know if you can ride or not?” I laughed. “I can teach you. We could go out this weekend.”
“I don’t see why not. And what about your towers?”
“I’ll show you when you come over,” I replied.
Thursday and Friday, Mike and I spent as much time together at school as possible. We ate lunch together, and I felt not only happy, but also safe. Every day, he walked with me to my classes. The rest of the world didn’t exist anymore. Not as long as Mike was with me.
Saturday morning arrived, and when the bell chimed through the house, I almost tripped down the stairs.
“Good morning, Mrs. Crocker.” Mike’s sweet voice echoed through the hall. “I’m very happy to meet you. Did Pete tell you I was coming?”
“Why yes she did.” Although her voice was pleasant, it wasn’t her I’m happy voice. Instead, it was her I’m being tolerant voice. “Won’t you please come in? Pete’s father is away this week. I’m sorry you won’t be able to meet him.”
“Another day then,” Mike said.
“Hi, Mike,” I almost yelled out his name.
“Hey, good morning, Pete.”
“Charles saddled the horses for us,” I said, smiling. “I used to have a great riding instructor, until he was too ashamed to be around me. Ready to go?”
“You’ll have to tell me all about this riding instructor,” he said, nodding goodbye to my grandmother. She nodded back.
“You two have fun now,” she said. “I don’t have any plans, so I’m here if you should need me.”
“We’re good,” I replied. “I packed us a lunch.”
Mike refused to let me carry my backpack. It was nice of him to offer. However, at the same time, it felt weird. Used to being alone, I didn’t know how to act when Mike wanted to help me. Not wanting to be rude, I gave in. In a way, it was a nice feeling—being liked. When we reached the stables, Charles had both horses saddled and ready to go. They were tied to a post, but Charles was nowhere around.
I glanced around the stable. On a normal day, Joe would have been the one to tend the horses. His cheery voice echoing through the barn always made me smile. Now, only the horses snickering or the wind blowing through the trees touched my ears. Not wanting to ruin my time with Mike, I pushed Joe from my mind, but not from my heart.
Turned out that Mike was a great rider after all. We galloped through the meadows, and splashed along the creeks. We rested by a small pond to allow the horses time to drink. It was also a great place to rest and eat our lunch.
“So where are these towers of yours?” he asked, once we finished eating.
“Follow me,” I said, climbing onto Saddlebag’s back.
The towers were not far. Only a few minutes ride. If the trees had not been there, he would have seen them. When we reached the ridge above the small canyon, he gasped.
“Wow, they’re huge.”
“I love them.”
Mike followed me into the small valley. We tied the horses to the metal ladder. Jumping up, I climbed the first few rungs.
“We’re going up there?” he asked.
“Why not?”
Mike lagged a little behind. I waited as he climbed the last few steps.
“You made it,” I said.
“Pete, this can’t be safe.”
“It�
��s fine,” I said.
“What if you fell?”
“I’m not going to fall, now come on.”
“Wow,” he said, as we stared at the Atlanta skyline. “This is amazing.”
“Mike, tell me about yourself.” I sat down and leaned against the tower.
He pulled out a water bottle and took a drink. After handing it to me, he smiled. “Well, my mom’s a surgeon, and my father stays home.”
“Cool,” I said, taking a sip.
“How about you?”
I hesitated. Would he hate me like Christina did when he found out who my father was?
“Well?” he said.
“My mother died. Drunk driver, she was white. My father’s a lawyer and he’s black. Or half black and white.”
“I see,” he said. “My mom’s black and my dad’s white. So, we’re the same.”
“Kind of,” I said. “But, I’m white and you’re black.”
“Strange how kids turn out in mixed marriages. My brother actually has patches of black all over his body.”
“I’ve seen that condition before. Large patches of white skin next to large patches of black skin.”
“I tease him about it all the time. Show him pictures of Appaloosa horses.”
“That’s not nice.” But I couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t funny, then again it was.
“Nah, it toughens him up.”
“I guess,” I said, glancing away. “My dad, he’s not liked around here.”
“Why not?”
The sunlight dimmed as a large cloud passed overhead. Glancing up at it, I answered him. “A few years ago, he represented a white guy who shot some kids. The guy claimed they were not kids. I guess he felt threatened or something.”
“Oh,” Mike said. “Well, that happens. My dad says we have to be careful these days. Things are different. People shoot for no reason. I have to tell my father where I’m going and why.”
“Yeah, I guess there’s a lot of crazies out there.”
“You don’t look at all black,” he said. “You must have your mom’s hair, fine and wavy.”
“I do. I have my dad’s hair color, brown. My mom was blonde. I think I look a lot like my dad’s mom. Who do you look like?”
“I’m told I’m a duplicate of my father, except I’m black. But, see.” Mike continued pushing on his nose, “I’m my father now.”
I laughed. “Does it bother you? To be half-and-half? I didn’t know my father was black until last year.”
“Really? That’s strange.”
“My mom never told me. I still don’t know why she never said anything. Maybe one day I’ll find out. My grandmother told me a few things about my parents. Not everything though. I know that my mom’s parents didn’t want her living with my dad. They took us away when I was a baby.”
On that tower, we talked about everything and anything. It was wonderful having a close friend again. We compared our skin; same texture, just a different color. Before we climbed down, Mike again stated his concerns.
“I don’t like the idea of you coming up here,” he said. “What if you fall?”
“If I did, it wouldn’t be good.”
As we both stared over the railing, he said, “Maybe you shouldn’t come up here anymore.”
The thought sent a wave of pain through my gut. The idea of never standing on my tower again was something I would never consider. Although I nodded and smiled, inside I was saying no.
As we rode back to the stables, Mike explained he had a dentist appointment tomorrow and would miss our lunch at school.
“I’m sorry about tomorrow,” he said, as we led the horses inside.
“That’s okay. I’ll survive.”
Later, as his father’s car rolled down our driveway, I waved. Although I tried to be brave, the idea of eating lunch alone sent chills through me.
CHAPTER 23
DOGGY DOGGY POO POO
I DREADED SITTING ALONE in the lunchroom. Not feeling comfortable around the other students, I picked an isolated spot under a tree. Although the warm day and clear skies lifted my spirits a little, I knew colder times were just around the corner. Resting the lunch tray on my lap, I leaned my head against the tree.
Taking a sip of juice, I reached for a chip. Before I could take even a small nibble, a napkin, filled with something awful, landed on my tray. The foul odor filled me with dread. My eyes watered. Slapping my hand over my nose, I gagged. Watery brown gunk had splattered across my pants leaving a line of broken brown dots. Oozing from the sides of the napkin, a brown liquid ran across my tray and stained my bread. The odor was disgusting. I gagged again. Then, I noticed the writing on the napkin. My mind went blank. As I read the words printed in red ink, emptiness consumed me—Dumb Bitch.
The napkin, soaked with stinking dog poop, stared up at me. If the feces wasn’t from a dog … the thought petrified me. It wouldn’t do any good to search the schoolyard for the culprit. Whoever threw it was long gone by now. My stomach growled as I tossed the tray, with the ruined food and nasty poo, into the trash. I wasn’t about to walk into that tiny lunchroom now. Everyone would know and everyone would laugh. The smell was nauseating.
The urge to wash my hands and cleanse myself echoed through my mind. Maybe I could wipe the stuff off my pants. What if some splattered on my white shirt? I’d better check. The girl’s bathroom near the lunchroom looked too crowded. The one near the principal’s office should be empty. Opening the door to the school hallway, my eyes locked onto two girls standing near the girl’s bathroom. The white girl smiled, and then winked. I smiled back at her. The other one, a skinny black girl, took a step away from the wall and blocked my path. She was tall and pretty, but wore the most evil grin.
“Do you miss Davis Academy?” she asked.
My world again, turned upside down. She knew about DA? No one was supposed to know about that here. As my hands trembled, my eyes searched the hallway for a way to escape. If I could only make it to the principal’s office, but the office was dark. The workers were still at lunch. With no place to run, I froze.
“My best friend was suspended because of you.” As she snapped at me, she shoved her finger into my chest. “I don’t like it when my friends get screwed. Especially by a cracker like you.”
Expecting a slap to my face next, I took a step backwards. She grabbed my arm. Panic flew through me. I had to get out of there. I had to go home.
“Don’t you walk away when I’m talking to you,” the girl demanded. “You bitch!”
My feet, now glued to the floor, refused to move. As I stood there like an idiot, something snapped from deep inside. I was breathing; then again, I was also holding my breath. I could almost see it. A thin vapor seeped through my body and into the air. Was I hallucinating, losing my mind?
The more she insulted me, the more her anger suddenly felt justified. It was the strangest feeling ever. I now understood that everything that had happened to me had happened for a reason. My pain was necessary to make things right again. Christina’s suspension was my fault. If I hadn’t gone back to DA, she wouldn’t have cussed. If she hadn’t cussed, she wouldn’t have been suspended.
Everything was making sense now. The final pieces of a huge puzzle were fitting into place. Wherever I went, others would hurt, and I was the reason. Behind everyone’s problem, behind everyone’s pain, I was there. It was all because of me. I caused my parent’s divorce. My grandmother even said so. Because I was born white, my grandparents convinced my mom to move back to New York. My father suffered alone. If I had been born black, my parents would probably still be together. And if they were still together, my mom would probably still be alive. I killed my own mother.
“Don’t you dare ignore me,” the girl ordered. “Just who do you think you are?”
My courage gone, my feet took over. They were saving me, taking me away. Turning to run, sparkling lights exploded across my vision as she grabbed my hair, snapping back my neck. Stumbling to regain m
y balance, I found myself, again, face-to-face with the angry black girl. Waves of shock shattered my world as several strong blows hit the side of my head. Instead of pain or fear, I felt nothing. It was the oddest sensation. My body, numb from head to toe, understood that I needed to be punished.
Her face, so full of anger, explained so much. She pushed against my chest, making me take a step backwards. But instead of moving, my feet remained locked in place as my head aimed for the floor. The white girl, on her hands and knees behind me, laughed like a hyena. Blocking my legs from moving, my body flew freely over the back of the kneeling girl. She had deliberately gotten down on her hands and knees so I would trip over her.
I was set-up again for another fall. I shivered as their wicked game echoed through the empty hallway.
As a dull emptiness filled my heart, I knew exactly what I needed to do to make things right. I could fix everything here and at Davis Academy. As I pondered the possibilities, a reverberating noise similar to a dropped watermelon rang through my ears. The explosion ricocheted inside my head as bright lights flashed before my eyes.
From the floor, I watched as her lips formed a simple oval. Something warm hit my face. Unable to move my arms, I could not wipe away the spit that now ran down my cheek. Their laughter filled my ears, as their footsteps echoed down the empty hall. Before darkness covered my world, I thought of my mother.
CHAPTER 24
THE PAIN
MY EYES BURNED FROM the bright light. Wanting to rub my head, I reached up. Someone grabbed my arm.
“Don’t mess with the bandages, sweetheart.” My father’s deep voice sounded defeated, as if, he had surrendered.
“Where are we?”
“You are in a hospital,” he said, placing my arm on the bed. “Do you remember what happened?”
I did remember, I just didn’t want to talk about it. The pain was my punishment. A penalty for breaking up my parents and killing my mother. What happened was meant to happen. I knew that now. I just had to accept it.
“No, I don’t,” I lied.