Color Blind

Prologue

    "We need to teach this little nigga' some 'spect!" shouted the red headed boy to the others and covered my mouth with his foot to keep me from screaming.

    Immediately after one of them punched me in the face, I heard a fourth boy's voice shouting from inside the house. "Hey! You leave her alone!" This fourth boy didn't sound like the rest of the kids. The other three boys had deep southern drawls, but this kid sounded like he was from somewhere up north.

    There was a big commotion after that and somebody pushed my head down into the sidewalk. Then all three of the kids jumped up and started fighting the other boy, who had apparently just run out of the house. As I sat up and looked over at the four of them, I shook my sore head and tried to figure out what was going on.

Watching them, I noticed that the fourth kid was pretty tough. He had one of the boys down on the ground and was stomping on his chest. At the same time, he was pushing the other two boys back out of the way. After getting his wind back, though, the kid on the ground got up and caught the new kid's arm, pinning it behind him. Immediately, one of the other kids punched him in the stomach. The boy who had just run to my rescued kicked out, then yelled at the top of his lungs and a big burley red-faced man with sandy blond hair and watery blue-green eyes came rushing out into the front yard.

    "What in the Sam-hell's goin' on out hea'?" the man demanded in a southern drawl similar to that of the first three kids.

    All four boys immediately stopped fighting and quietly fell in line to face him. Silently, they all looked down at their shoes and refused to tell him what had just happened.

    The man continued, "I told y'all 'bout all that roughhousin'. Now get ya asses in the house!"

    The three original boys followed the man slowly inside. The fourth boy walked over to me.

    "Are you ok?" he asked and kneeled down next to me. I nodded and impatiently brushed away angry tears. "Don't mind them," he nodded towards the door. "Those're just my cousins. They don't live around here. The family just came out to see our new house. We just moved here." When I still didn't say anything, he held out his hand. "I'm Prescott."

"I'm Tyrica," I said shyly and shook his hand.

    Prescott held onto mine and helped me up off the ground. "I'm really sorry 'bout my cousins," he repeated. "Those are my dad's brother's kids. They all act like that." He turned his nose up distastefully. "Don't take it personal. They're always picking on bla... on girls."

We looked away from each other and I glanced apprehensively back towards the front door.

The boy, sensing my fear, looked over at me and said, "Don't worry. They won't mess with you anymore." Somehow I believed him. "So...do you live around here?"

I was about to answer when a car horn blew in the distance. At the sound, the big red-faced man stormed back out of the house.

    "Son, I told you to get yoa butt in the house! Who dat?" He peered at me through the darkness. "Boy, bring yoa ass ova hea. Now!"

    Prescott turned to me and shook my hand again. I had never known a kid to shake hands so much before. "Well, it was nice meeting you."

    "Yeah, you too," I answered.

    As the boy walked away, I saw his father rush out into the yard and grab him roughly by the arm. Then he yanked his son into the house. Prescott jerked away and his father promptly slapped him on the back of the head. I heard the loud clack that it made all the way from where I was standing. Prescott stumbled and almost fell to his knees, the slap was so hard.

    "I told you 'bout those people! Stay away from those little nigga' gals! They ain't nuthin' but trouble."

In all of my nine years, I had never heard white folks say the "n" word so many times before. Of course, black folks said it all the time, but that was different...or so I was told.

The man continued, "You be a little nice to them and they'll walk all over ya. Give 'em an inch, and they'll take a mile." He jerked a thumb in my direction as they walked through the front door.

    I heard the car horn blow again and my mother's voice called, "Rica! What are you doing out here?"

    I walked over to the car and tried to explain what happened at Tia's house.

"We got in a fight and I didn't want to stay there."

    "So what were you doing out here with that white boy?"

    "We were just talkin', Ma," I said and looked away.

    "Just talking huh?"

She looked at me closer, taking in my steadily swelling eye and the small stream of blood that had begun to trickle down my lip. Immediately she jumped out of the car and started for the house. I knew she was thinking the boy did it and was about to go raise hell.

Grabbing her hand, I tried to stop the madness. "No Ma! That boy didn't do this! I told you. Me and Tia got in a fight."

    She stopped and turned to me. "Next time, you call me."

I nodded, relieved that she wouldn't be going up to the strangers' house.

"And I don't want to see you around this house anymore." She slapped me on the butt and pushed me into the passenger seat. "I told you about messing with these crackers! You be a little nice to them and they'll walk all over you! Give 'em an inch and they'll take a mile!"

    That's the funny thing about prejudice people. No matter how much they hate each other, they're always just alike.

I sat back in the seat and looked out of my window. The boy was looking back at me through the screen door in front of his house. We waved to each other, but then my mother popped my hand and I saw the boy's dad come up and yank him back inside.

    "Ma, what's a jungle bunny?" I asked.

    My mother's eyes grew wide as she slammed on the breaks and shouted, "Did that little peckerwood call you that?"

    "No! No! I just heard one of the kids at school say it," I argued, not wanting her to get back out of the car.

    "Humph!" she huffed. "That's just something those ignorant rednecks say because they ain't got nothin' better to say. That's why I'm telling you now. Don't ever trust one of them, Rica. They'll be grinning in your face and thinkin' you ain't shit behind your back."

     The only time I ever heard my mother curse was when she was getting all worked up about white folks, so I decided to just leave it alone.

As I watched Prescott disappear into the shadows of his house and we went our separate ways, I had no idea that we would eventually come back full circle into each other's lives. I guess that's what people mean when they say, "You never know where the road is going to take you." You can drive around all day long if you want to, but eventually you may very well find yourself right back in the same place that you were so desperately trying to get away from.