▍𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗁𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄
𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 ! e. y
003. 爱 ᠈ 𝗇𝗈𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗓 . ❫
2 years ago
"OK, BUT WHAT IF I GET JUMPED?" you asked your your brother, Quinn.
You both sat at the round table as air blew from the stand fan. As high as the level was, sweat wouldn't stop dripping from your forehead.
Quinn took the fat blunt out of his mouth and reached into his pockets, pulling something out. He then held his tightened fist over the table, "You gon use these."
"My fists? I mean, I know tha-"
He unclenched his fist and multiple rings fell out of his hand, dropping on the table with consecutive clinks.
"These used to be mama's. You gon wear them everyday from now on. Fuck that damn scholarship, if someone press you again, sock em right here," he put his fist to his jaw.
You nodded and began picking them off the table, sliding them on each of your fingers.
It was your last year of high school. Last year of childish white kids. Last year of racist teachers. Last year of prison.
Everything was getting really old really fast and your patience was wearing thin. It was all you could do not to choke out every person in that hellhole.
But, at least people weren't doing shit behind your back anymore.
Take the week before as an example: a girl had tripped you on your way to class, all for shits and giggles. Naturally, every bone in your body wanted to swing, but you simply dusted yourself off and walked away for the sake of keeping your scholarship.
You knew you had the strength to shut them up, but you had to keep your future in mind. Of course, it made you look like a punk.
"Yo, Quinn, relax," your dad came up beside you from almost no where and snatched the last ring off the table.
"Whatchu mean?" Quinn scrunched his face up at your dad, "Give her the ring. She need 'em."
Your dad looked at you, "You need 'em?"
"Yea."
He clicked his tongue, "More than your scholarship?"
"No..." you mumbled and gripped the ring in your hand, resulting in a scoff from Quinn.
"Exactly," your dad said and took your fist from under the table, uncurling your fingers in an attempt take the rings. You, however, snatched your hand away.
"But!" you continued, "They're pissing me off, man!"
"How?!" he asked, matching your tone.
"They don't just talk shit anymore! They trip me! They think I won't do nothin'!"
"Just scare 'em off or sumn," he shrugged. "Them white girls ain't ever 'bout shit, for real."
"I say beat the shit outta 'em," Quinn put his two cents in.
"How the hell you think yo mama got locked up, huh?" your father shoved the boy's shoulder. "She did right to fight back, but you should know not to let Y/n fight ringed up ova some dumb shit like gettin' tripped! You know the system don't give a shit about us!"
"Of course I know that," your brother responded, "that's why her ass gotta fight back. If she just sit back and let these white girls fuck wit her, what she gon' do in the real world?!"
"She'll get a damn education!"
"If she makes it outta here in time to do that!"
Tired of their arguing you began slipping the rings off of your fingers. "Just calm down, okay?" you said. "Please. Just... calm down."
"Fine! But don't let them push you around," your brother stood up, harshly pushing the chair back with his legs. "Fucking up my high and shit."
Your dad sighed and watched as the teenage dropout walked angrily off to his room and then back to you who was angrily taking off your rings.
Both children angry. Though one hid it better than the other. That one was afraid of the anger she felt, however it was just as real and burning as the other's.
Your father was angry, too. And he knew your mother was in her cell angry.
You were all pissed the fuck off.
¤¤¤
The next day you sat with your poetry club friends at lunch, taking bits from your homemade meal. The whole day, everyone seemed to be minding their own business, goofing off with their friends, and you did the same.
As you took another bite of your food, you saw from your peripheral vision a male figure slide into the seat in front of you. You looked up to see one of your least favorite people in the school and your stomach turned, just like it did anytime he came near you. Everything that came out of his mouth was offensive and now he was sitting right in front of your face.
You raised an eyebrow at him and he spoke, "Hey, what're you eating?"
You glanced at your friends who had paused the conversation and were now staring at the two of you, wondering what he possibly could've came over for. You looked down at your lunchbox and back at him with a skeptical look, "Um... Macaroni and cheese?"
You can't see my bowl?
"Mac n cheese? Interesting," Eren said and clasped his hands together. "Anyways, I came over here 'cause you're really pretty and I was wondering if you'd go out with me."
"Fuck no."
His eyes widened at your quick response and he could only blink as silence filled your side of the table. Deena, however, failed to suppress her snicker.
"Not even gonna think about it? Why's that?"
"Because," you stared into his tense eyes, "you're a pussy."
He stayed silent, letting your unexpected, but nonetheless, harsh words sink in. The corner of his mouth curled into a smug smile, though he was anything but happy. Finally, he chuckled to himself before standing up with a straight face. "It was just a dare, bitch," he spat, clearly offended, and walked away.
You watched as he jogged back to his laughing friends who had been watching the whole thing.
"Did he just say what the hell I think he—" Deena started before cutting herself off and standing up with the intention of cussing him out, however you just laughed and calmed her down.
You couldn't care less. You simply took a bite of your collard greens and continued enjoying your food with your friends.
And I thought I was sensitive.
¤¤¤
The cold metallic chair sent shivers down your spine as you sat down, slipping your backpack straps from your shoulders in hope to relieve the stress you were feeling.
You quickly got settled in, grabbing your chrome book and mechanical pencil. Today you had a free period and you planned on taking this time to write. You'd write about the anger you felt. The anger that was beginning to drown out your anxiety and awkwardness. The anger you felt towards everyone.
The words seemed to write themselves as you scribbled on your paper, erasing and scratching over things. Your feelings always seemed to pour out onto paper like water into a river. And despite the way your eyebrows furrowed as you wrote, you were calm. Calmer than before.
That's when you felt a tug.
A strand of your [hair texture] hair had been tugged.
Furrowing your eyebrows even further, you slowly turned your head around to see three white girls,
two blonde and one brunette, giggling and looking in every other direction but yours.
So obvious.
You turned around and decided to ignore them. Instead, you continued writing about the way you felt. The things you've seen that caused the way you felt.
Then once again, you felt a tug. A tug with more force than before.
You turned your head around once again and sent them a mean mug. Of course, it didn't reach them since they wouldn't even look at you. Instead they continued snickering.
You turned around again, taking in a sharp breath and gripping your mechanical pencil until your knuckles turned as pale as their skin and the pencil cracked open.
Almost immediately, three tugs made their way to your hair for the third time. You felt a surge of butterflies in your stomach. It wasn't nervousness. No, it wasn't the usual anxiety. This was an urge to slap the fuck out of all three of them.
You snapped your head around. "What the fuck do you want?" you spoke, putting as much bass in your voice as necessary.
The blood seemed to drain out of the other two's faces. However, one of the girls boldly drifted her eyes to yours. "What are you talking about?" she gave you a smug look.
"If you pull my hair again, I'm coming over there and dragging you out of that fucking chair."
You turned back around, spreading your legs, waiting for a single tug. You wanted that tug. That one tug so this ass-whoopin' would be justified. Just one tug.
But they kept they're hands to their damn selves. And they did that for the rest of the period, and the rest of the day as well. However, you couldn't help but feel uneasy when your name was called to the counselors office. You couldn't help but feel uneasy when you saw those three girls walk out of the councilor's office, wiping their wet eyes with their sleeves.
You slowly walked into the small office, filled with posters and books, and was met with your Counselor, Mrs. Reed. She had short red hair that didn't even reach her ears and clear pale skin that shimmered in the sunlight which creeped through the window.
"Come on in," she said with an almost sickening sweet voice.
You followed her with burning eyes as you made your way to the chair that sat in front of her desk and sat down. You knew exactly where this was going.
"So, Y/n!" she rolled her swivel chair up close to her desk and leaned in from behind it, "How are you feeling today?"
You clenched your jaw, "Okay. I just kinda wanna get to my last class."
"Of, course! Well, this will be real fast, okay?" she smiled before knitting her eyebrows to a frown, slowly clasping her hands over the desk. "Some girls came in today. Samantha, Trina, and... Miracle, I believe? Do those names sound familiar?"
"Yea. They were pulling my hair today like I was an animal in a petting zoo," you responded.
Her eyes widened before she cleared her voice. "Yes, well, that is certainly no reason to threaten another student. I'll let you off the hook this time since I know the situation at home, but don't let it happen again, okay? If you need to get some of your feelings out, you can talk to me."
You rolled your eyes. "So, they're getting let off the hook for pulling my hair, huh?"
"Well, I wasn't aware while talking to them," she sighed before smiling at you. "Just ignore it. They'll get bored and stop eventually."
You blinked at her then tightened the grip you had on your knee, clenching your jaw further.
"Look," she started, "I'm not planning on punishing you at all. I know emotions can get out of control when a mother isn-"
"Can I leave now?" you said through your teeth.
Mrs. Reed sighed, closing her eyes and sliding her hands off the desk. She understood that she wasn't get through to you. "Sure. Just... let me write you a pass, first."
Once she wrote your pass, you dashed out of her office.
Just ignore it she says. Ignore it, just like how you're ignoring it, huh? That's all you people do. You see the bullying and you just ignore.
Quinn was right. Dad was right. Mom was right. The system doesn't care about us. No one does.
You were pissed the fuck off.