Raindrop

Ch 6. I'm Sorry Amara

I stood with my arms wide open as Terri and Ben dumped a bucket of paint on me. I looked down closing my eyes, feeling the substance flow down my chest.

"Ew." I looked up again. I now had white and brown paint on my half naked body. How I had the confidence to wear a sports bra and boxer short underwear, in front of many people in the park, was unexplainable.

This was Clay's project. A video on diversity. He asked me for help and I couldn't say no.

"You look beautiful!" Clay said from behind a camera.

"Hurry and flim! This feels uncomfortable!"

"Smile." He said. Terri and Ben walked back behind Clay.

As he explained before we got ready to shoot, I will at first represent two major color in race, white, and the dark skin. Then I will be splashed with different colors of paint to show that it doesn't matter what color one is. At least that is what I got from everything he said.

"I can't smile, I'm covered in paint. If I try I'm going to look constipated."

"Tell her a joke Ben!"

"Ben's face is a joke." Terri smriked.

"You know, sometimes I mistake you for a clown because of all the makeup you wear!" Ben countered.

I couldn't help but giggle. I had thought the same thing when I saw her this morning.

"Perfect!" Clay said. "Give us a quick spin, to show off your colors."

I sighed, smiled, and twirled. I removed my hair from my face. Paint made it stick onto my cheek. Clay made Ben and Terri get the other tubs of paint ready. 

The crowd around us was starting to get big. I guess today was a busy day at the park.

"I need a few volunteers." Clay said to them. A few hands went up, and kids started to jump up and down. "I need people who are willing to confess, on camera, the worst thing anyone has said about your culture or race."

Some hands went down, and others came up. Mothers held their child's down. Terri came to me and gave me some goggles.

Clay picked the first volunteer, a woman, who looked to be in the mid-forties. She approached Clay slowly. Clay pointed the camera at her and smiled. The woman had a dark brown skin tone, curly brown hair, and looked to be 5'2.

"My name is Yolanda Ramirez, I'm thirty-seven years old, and proud mexican. People have made fun of my skin color and say all I eat is beans."

"Thank you, Yolanda." Clay said. "Grab a bucket of paint and splash our diversity model."

Yolanda looked hesitant, before grabbing the bucket with yellow paint and walking in front of me. I stood still on the plastic bags we had put out on the grass. (We weren't trying to kill it) Yolanda looked at me, her eyes asking for permission. I smiled at her, opening my arms wide. She grabbed the bucket and threw the paint at my body. Now I had yellow paint on me. I bet I didn't look cute at all.

I took four more buckets of paint on this lovely afternoon. Each from a different volunteer with shocking stories and sad truths.

Now I stood in Clay's back yard, as he hosed me down. All the paint washing off my body. It was just a quick rinse, I would go home and shower as soon as my dad picked me up.

"Today was great." Clay said as he turned off the water.

I sat on the white bench by the sliding glass door. "It was something. I've never been in public with very little clothes on. It was scary, yet thrilling."