2 Chapter 2

We pulled up to a pretty, small house. Dad stopped the car and told us to stay inside. I guess the problem of race starts here. He got out and opened the trunk. A white man saw my dad getting luggage out the car. "Need any help?" He asked. "No. I'm good." Dad answered. The man shrugged his shoulders and kept on walking. Before he got near the windows Mama said, "DUCK DOWN NOW!" We both ducked. Was this it? Is this the time for something big to come? We just got here. It's never to early for action apparently. So many thoughts were running through my mind until I felt pressure on my arm. Mama had fear written clearly on her face but my own soul wasn't shivering. What would happen? I was prepared to hear shots being fired but I didn't. I got up but quickly jumped back. The white man was looking dead at me. Like old, expired cheese in the fridge that you wanna get rid of. This man didn't want me to exist. It was evident in his big, lingering eyes. There were 2 cups of hate in each of 'em. This was a staring contest only for disgust. I was the painting of mixed trash in his eyes. There was nothing I could say or do to change a mind like his anyways. I stared back with determination and smiled. He looked back with an even harder smug on hsi face. He stopped then looked at Dad and said, "Your one of those nigger lovers?!?" I held on to Mama tight. Dad clenched his fists and said to the white man, "GET LOST!" The white man ran the other way yelling, "WE GOT OURSELVES A NIGGER LOVER!!!" Dad slammed the trunk. Mama and I both jumped. He carried all our bags at once and told us to open the door to the house. I don't normally see Dad being mad but the anger was slowly cooling off. We just came here and the South is already changing Dad. I can't determine if I like it or not. Mama was still shaking from the incident so I opened the door.

-IN THE HOUSE-

The fresh smell of paint seeped through my nostrils. It's been a while since I've lived somewhere new. I grabbed my suitcase and started to head upstairs. I stopped midway, closed my eyes, and listened to the South. There were no busy cars or people around like the North. It was like a trap in heaven. The peaceful birds humming and zooming around like life is ok. The few cars in the distance beeping their horns to greet each other then go on with their lives. I heard the wind whisper and send me messages of solace and mystery. I also heard the beeping of the smoke detector every now and then, the alarm for danger. I opened my eyes and took a deep breath. I reached the top of the stairway, and entered a room closest to the bathroom. Our furniture was already delivered here two days ago. I started to unpack and put my clothes in my closet and drawers. When I was finished, Dad called me downstairs. "Mira! Come down so I can give you a tour of the house!". I rushed downstairs. As soon as you open the door, you'll see the long, inviting staircase on your left. The dormant living room was to the right. There were lots of previous sad stories to tell in there. If you go deeper through the hallway, the echo's host, the kitchen is to your right and the laundry room/basement are to the left. Dad and I went upstairs. My bedroom was across from Mama and Dad's room. There's an extra closet to the right of their room. Dad and I went to the back of the house and sat on a bench for a while. "Do you like the house?" He asked me. "Yes." I replied. "Are you ready for school." He asked. "No." I replied. We both laughed and sat there for a good 20 minutes. This moment of silence was needed. We were both thinking about the future. I looked up in the sky then back down while adjusting my wings. Suddenly, the sweet smell of apple pie hit us. Dad and I raced inside to the kitchen. Mama was in there and told us to wash our hands. On the table, there was pink lemonade and sandwiches with no crust. There were also potato chips. Mama said, "The pie in the oven will take about 20 more minutes to cook." It wasn't much but when you're hungry, anything is acceptable. Mama sat down next to Dad. We all held hands and said a prayer. Afterward, we started to eat the sandwiches.

--LATER THAT NIGHT--

I was in the bathroom getting ready for bed. I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was to come. Maybe I was being paranoid or feeling nervous, but I never felt something this strong. My new school was one of the institutions against integration. I also heard that besides me, two other black folk plan on going there. Somehow, that doesn't comfort me. I will always receive hate on both sides. At this point, will this be the norm? Walking into stores or going to other places, I will surely be the talk of the town. Maybe I'm not so strong after all. I keep worrying about what other people will think. I can't help it. Survival of the fittest can't possibly apply to African Americans if they are ridiculed everywhere. It's more like survival of the unfit. I brushed my teeth and changed into my PJs. I wrapped my hair and stared my clearest mirror. Then, I kneeled down beside my bed and prayed. I prayed for the new life ahead of me and my family. I prayed that we would be guarded by his angels tonight. I also prayed for the white man who insulted Dad.

What will tomorrow bring?