“If I see one more trig book or problem in my class,” Ms. Joyner announced from the front of the room, “there will be repercussions. This is American literature, an English class, people. Do your math homework at home or during break. I don’t want you doing it in my class.”

At the familiar warning, Brooke rolled her eyes and handed me my trig homework that she had been studying. “AP or not, this class is a joke. You should see the work Mrs. Haskell has her regular class do, Carter. That lady is tough.”

Accepting my homework, I murmured something sympathetic. In a fit of what I had deemed insanity, Brooke had decided to graduate a whole year earlier. As a result, Brooke was taking AP English III under Ms. Joyner and regular English IV under Mrs. Haskell, as well as the two required history classes.

“What are ya’ll reading now?” I asked, watching Ms. Joyner copy yet another vocabulary list on the board.

“The Canterbury Tales,” she replied, writing the list down in her notebook.

“Still?” I asked, not hiding the joking tone of my voice.

With another roll of her eyes, Brooke snorted. “I’m just glad we’ll be finished after this week.”

“Hey, Carter, do you have the answer to the last problem?” Kevin, the guy sitting behind me, asked.

“Well, I have an answer,” I replied, smiling back at him.

Although I am an introvert myself, Kevin was one of the most painfully shy people I have ever met. One of the big reasons was his skin condition, which left gray, flaky patches all over his dark skin. However, even after my rather bitter break-up with his friend, Jared Parks, Kevin still considered and treated me like a friend.

“It’s right,” Brooke said tersely, grabbing the sheet of paper and handing it to Kevin. “Girl, you know you’re brilliant.”

“No, that’s Clarissa,” I remarked dryly, inclining my head in the direction of our class genius.

“Oh, please,” Brooke groaned, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

“She’ll never be as nice as you are, Carter,” Kevin added quietly.

I smiled. “Thanks, guys.”

“Miss Jenkins, do you have something to share with the class?” Ms. Joyner asked loudly, drawing the class’s attention to my little corner of the room.

Willing myself not to blush, I lowered my head slightly. “No, Ms. Joyner.”

“Then let’s be more quiet back there,” she ordered crisply.

Sighing, I realized that it was going to be a long day.

“Okay, class,” Ms. Joyner announced, “it’s time to peer review your persuasive papers. Please exchange with your neighbor.”

A guy toward the back of the room raised his hand.

“Yes, Alec,” Ms. Joyner said with a sigh, not waiting for his question, “it has to be someone close to you and finished before class ends.”

Muttering under his breath, Alec lowered his hand. Pulling a crumpled wad of paper out of his pocket, he exchanged with the girl sitting beside him. I wondered what he had written because the opening sentences had Mary Beth’s cheeks flaming.

“Hey, Carter, will you read mine?” Kevin asked quietly from behind my right shoulder, drawing my attention back to the current assignment.

Hesitating, I looked down at my paper. Kevin was the only African American in our English class, and my paper was on abolishing affirmative action. However, Brooke had already traded with someone else.

“Okay,” I replied with a sigh.

“Oh, class,” Ms. Joyner said, “your poetry based on the Romantic period will be due by the end of the week.”

As the others groaned around us, Brooke and I exchanged looks.

“From persuasive papers to the Romantics?” she asked.

“Like you said,” I replied, keeping my voice low, “this class is a joke.”

* * * * * * * *

“Please put the finishing touches on your reviews, class,” Ms. Joyner called from her desk. “We only have a few minutes left before the bell rings for next period.”

By the expression on the young teacher’s face, it seemed that the bell couldn’t come soon enough for her as well. I wondered what it would be like to be fresh out of college and teaching at your old high school, working with some of the teachers who taught you. However, Kevin’s tapping on my shoulder drew my attention from Ms. Joyner to him.

“So, how bad was it?” I asked, exchanging papers with him.

He shook his head. “Don’t change a thing. It’s great.”

“Not one thing?” I teased. “Come on, Kevin. There has to be some room for improvement.”

“Just a few spelling errors and you left a few words out,” he admitted.

I nodded. “Thanks, Kevin.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied. With a rare smile, he gathered his books and left.

Brooke leaned against her desk as she watched Kevin leave the room. “Girl, you definitely have a gift,” she said softly.

“What are you babbling about?” I asked, grabbing my bookbag.

“I just heard Kevin speak the most I’ve ever heard him, and I’ve known the guy since kindergarten,” Brooke said, as we headed for the next class.

I shrugged. “Some people just need the right person to listen to them.”

“Like I said,” Brooke stated, giving me a wink, “you have a gift. You’re always listening to me about my problems.”

“Like I could get a word in edgewise,” I replied, laughing.

She gave me a playful slap on the arm. Laughing, we headed to our trig class.

* * * * * * * *

During my lunch break, as I grabbed the books for my next set of classes, I felt someone bang the locker next to mine. Looking the vents in the door, I groaned silently at the sight of Jared Parks leaning against the neighboring locker. Apparently my premonition from English class was coming true: it was going to be a long day.

“Hi, Carter,” Jared greeted as I shut the door of my locker.

“Hello,” I replied coolly, adjusting my bagpack.

He narrowed his eyes at my less than friendly greeting. “Okay, Carter, look, I’ll get to the point. What’s going on between you and Kevin?”

“What are you talking about, Parks?” I asked. “Nothing. Kevin and I talk during our mutual classes. That’s it.”

He nodded absently.

“You know that my life is not any of your business anymore,” I added, crossing my arms defensively.

“I know, Carter,” he replied. “I just thought I would warn you, though.”

I raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Warn me about what?”

“I’m trying to be nice here,” he said, his tone a little mournful. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Isn’t it a little late for apologies?” My tone was a bit more vehement than I had intended.

He flinched. “I hate how things ended between us, Carter. You know that. If I had it to do over again, nothing would have happened with Rebecca.”

I leaned against the row of lockers a foot or so away from him. “I’ve heard this all before, Jared. Can you finish this up before I miss lunch entirely?”

“Kevin’s found a girl he likes,” Jared said, watching my face closely.

“Good for him,” I replied, wondering what was going on. “Is it Shakia?”

“No, Carter, it’s you.”

“Me?” I gaped openly at Jared.

“I know that you only wanted to be nice to him,” Jared said, running a hand nervously through his hair, “but no girl has been nice to Kevin in so long, he took it as something more.”

“He told you this?” I managed to ask.

Jared nodded. “More or less. You know as well as I do that Kevin’s special.”

“You make him sound like he’s mentally challenged.”

He folded his arms, gradually losing his patience. “I didn’t want you to be caught by surprise and do something to hurt him.”

I shook my head. “You know I wouldn’t do that, Jared.”

Slowly, he nodded. “Look, I just thought I’d let you know.”

He brushed past me, heading toward the cafeteria. Calling myself an idiot, I turned and called his name. He turned around, the surprised expression evident on his face.

“Thanks,” I said simply.

Nodding, he turned and resumed heading to the cafeteria. With a sigh, I closed my eyes and leaned back against the cool metal lockers. However, Brooke suddenly appeared.

“What did Jared want?” she asked, grabbing my arm and pulling me down the hall. “Are you two getting back together?”

“Not until hell has frozen over,” I replied absently.

“Then what did he want?” she persisted, noting the thoughtful expression on my face.

I shrugged. “Just to talk, Brooke.”

I froze as she gave me a searching look. Then, with a satisfied nod, she reattached herself to my arm. “If we don’t hurry, we won’t have time to eat lunch.”

* * * * * * * *

“Hello, Earth to Carter?” Brooke called, waving a hand in front of my face. “Hey, Carter, you there?”

“Huh?” I shook my head and gave Brooke a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I zoned out.”

“I noticed,” she replied, eying me with concern. “What’s with you?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, taking a bite out of my sandwich.

Brooke leaned over and grabbed my sandwich out of my hand, holding it behind her back when I reached for it.

“Hey, that’s my sandwich,” I cried indignantly. “Find your own lunch.”

“I have my own lunch,” she replied tersely. “If you want yours back, you’re going to tell me why you’ve been a first class airhead since Jared talked to you. What kind of bombshell did he drop on you?”

“There is no bombshell, Brooke! Gees, paranoid much?”

She blinked at the outburst and wordlessly handed me my sandwich back. Sighing, I took it and tossed it into the nearest trashcan. Grabbing my stuff, I stood up.

“I’m sorry,” I told her. “Look, Brooke, you’re my best friend. If something was wrong, I would tell you. But there’s nothing to tell you. Sorry.”

“Sure, whatever, Carter,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes. “See ya later.”

“Brooke, please, don’t be like this.”

She didn’t even look up. “You’re going be late for your next class.”

“Fine,” I said, turning to leave. “I’ll call you tonight.”

“I’ll hold my breath.”

Without even pausing, I left the lobby. As I forced my way through the crowded hallway, I heard a male voice call my name. ‘Father, Lord, give me strength,’ I prayed, ignoring the voice behind me. ‘I can’t take much more today.’

“Hey, Carter!”

Clenching my fists, I whirled around. “Look, Parks, don’t do me any more favors!”

As I stared into Kevin’s surprised eyes, I felt the heat flood my cheeks. “Um, sorry,” I said quietly. “It’s been a long day, and it’s not even fourth period yet.”

“I know the feeling,” he replied sympathetically. “Hey, if Jared is still bothering you, you know I will tell him to back off.”

“Thanks, Kevin, but I’m a big girl. I’ll handle Jared. So, what did you want?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, as if he suddenly remembered. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

“A question?” I repeated inanely. I hoped the smile on my face seemed genuine, as I took a deep breath. “Okay, Kevin, shoot.”

His eyes scanned the bustling hallway around us. “Well, I don’t want to ask you here. Can we meet after school?”

“Yeah, I guess. I have a newspaper staff meeting last period. Do you want to meet me in the lobby? By the time I go to my locker and meet you there, it should be pretty empty.”

He studied me for a moment. “How about I just meet you at your locker?”

“That works, too,” I managed to say. The warning bell rang, and it had never been so welcomed. “Well, I’m going to be late, Kevin. See you later.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

As I practically ran down the hallway, I could help but think, ‘I’m sure you will, Kevin.’

* * * * * * * *

Throughout the rest of the day, I was a walking bundle of nerves. During my Spanish class, I couldn’t translate a poem, although I had done a much harder one the week before. In my following class, Mr. McClelland asked me what I was doing in the second year of American history if I didn’t know under which administration Reconstruction began.

By the time I reported to the newspaper staff meeting, I was barely aware of what was going on around me. Every time I thought about Kevin’s question, my stomach churned. I was dying to confide to someone, but I wasn’t sure how Brooke or anyone else would handle it. So, as usual, I kept my problem to myself.

‘Damn you, Jared,’ I thought, not paying attention to the meeting as the sponsor droned on and on. ‘Why do I have to do this? You’re his friend.’ Then, a part of me, the part I was really being to hate, said, ‘But you’re his friend, too, Carter.’

Accepting my list of article assignments, I left the room quickly and took the long way back to my locker. ‘I can be blowing this way out of proportion,’ I reassured myself, walking down the hallways deep in thought and only greeting people if they greeted me first. ‘He may just need some help in trig or chemistry and didn’t want to ask you in front of other people. God, I hope that’s it.’

As I approached my locker, I noticed that Kevin was already there. With a wave, I walked over.

“Hey,” I greeted.

“Hi.” Kevin shoved his hands in his pocket and rocked back on his heels.

“So, what did you want to ask me?”

Kevin glanced around the nearly vacant hallway before looking back at me. “Well, my question is kinda weird, so I wrote it on a piece of paper.”

The folded sheet of paper he handed me was damp and cool despite the August heat the permeated the halls. His handwriting was small and extremely neat for a guy, putting my scrawl to shame. Taking a deep breath, I opened it and read:

‘I have a question, and I think that you are the only person I can ask and get an honest answer. Given what I’m like and my personality, would you date a person like me? I really need to know. –Kevin’

“Oh,” I said quietly, my mind racing with thoughts. I reread the note several times, weighing the possible outcomes of my answer.

“Would you?” Kevin asked aloud. “With someone like me?”

Carefully, I refolded the note and handed it back to him. “With someone like you,” I replied, “yes.”

He took the note and put back in his pocket. “Thanks, Carter.”

Without another word, he turned and walked down the hall. I watched him leave, wondering just what had happened between Kevin and me. Not wanting to dwell on it right then, I opened my locker and gathered the stuff I would need for my homework.

* * * * * * * *

“Hey, I’m home,” I called as I entered the house.

“I’m in the kitchen,” my mother called. Out of habit, I took off my shoes and placed them and my bookbag beside the staircase. “How was your day?”

“It was interesting,” I replied, entering the kitchen. “What are you cooking?”

“It’s a new recipe,” she said, brushing the hair off her forehead, “and I can’t pronounce it.”

I laughed. “Is it too late for McDonald’s?”

“Ha ha, very funny. For that, you get dish duty.”

“But it’s Mallory’s turn,” I protested. “Where is she anyway?”

“Softball practice? Band practice? Something like that,” Mom said, waving a spoon in the air. “Your father will bring her and Tyler home after work.”

“I hope Dad knows where to pick them up,” I teased.

She gave me her patented warning look before resuming her stirring. “Oh, I heard something today when I was getting my hair cut.”

“Really?” I asked, stealing a couple of bites of celery. “What’s that?”

“I heard Trisha Carlisle is pregnant.”

I nodded. “Yeah, Keenan Johnson is the father, at least according to Trisha.”

“That poor girl,” my mother murmured, adding more spices to the brown glob in her large mixing bowl. “It’s such a shame. Gosh, her parents. Carter, promise me that you’ll never bring home a black boy.”

I flinched, thinking about Kevin. “Mom.”

“Just think about your children,” she continued. “Where would they belong?”

“In a loving family and with caring friends?” I asked.

My mother gaped at me, as if I was a stranger or had sprouted a horn in the center of my forehead. “It was bad enough that you dated that Parks boy, Carter. Surely you’ve heard the stories about his father. It turns out the boy is not much better than his father. Please, tell me you’ll be more careful.”

“I thought you had raised me better than that, Mom,” I retorted, my temper flaring. “You always told me, Mallory, and Tyler that it was the person inside that counted. You should never discriminate against those who are different, because we are all different. Now, listen to yourself. God, you sound just like Grandma!”

“I’m not like my mother!” she shouted. “Sure, you don’t discriminate, but you don’t have to bring every stray you find home, either, Carter.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this!” I cried, throwing my hands in the arm.

“I swear, Carter,” Mom bellowed, “if you bring a black boy home, you’ll be down in Jackson with your biological father quicker than you can say your name.”

We both blinked, shocked by her last statement. She covered her mouth with oven mitt-covered hand. She reached out to touch me but I pulled back.

“Oh, God, Carter, I didn’t mean it,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm, “just like the time with Tyler. It was really funny as he cried when you ordered him to pack his suitcase. He was eight at the time.”

“I apologized later,” she said quietly, her eyes welling with tears.

“Yeah, and that makes everything better,” I replied and I ran upstairs to my room.

* * * * * * * *

“Carter,” Dad called from the bottom of the stairs, “dinner’s done.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Grace, why isn’t she coming to dinner?”

“She’s just tired,” Mom said. “She’ll be down later. She had a tough day at school.”

‘No kidding,’ I thought bitterly, staring at my ceiling. Although I didn’t always agree with her, I rarely fought with my mother. Mentally playing back the scene in the kitchen, I was surprised at some of the things we had said to each other.

Not even thinking about the homework I had due the next day, I turned out the light and pulled a blanket over me. In a few minutes, I drifted off in a fitful sleep.

* * * * * * * *

“Carter? Honey, are you up?”

“Huh?” I asked groggily, blinking furiously as my mother turned the light on. My clock read 11:45 p.m., meaning that I had been out for almost five hours. I rolled over and stared emotionlessly at my mother.

“I want to apologize for what I said in the kitchen, Carter,” she said quietly. “You know that I love you. I would never send you to your father as punishment.”

“Yeah, you just threaten to,” I replied.

She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “Everybody says things they don’t mean, honey. Although I want you to find someone who will make you happy, I want you to protect yourself, too. Just think of all the problems you will face if you dated a black boy. Imagine all the talk, the stares, and the harassment.”

“This is not the 1960s, Mom,” I stated, although I wonder why I was still arguing with her instead of going back to sleep.

“This is still the South,” she replied, “and people still have ideas about how things should be.”

“Mom, look, it’s midnight,” I said, pointing at the clock. “Can we talk about this later? I have school tomorrow.”

She studied for a moment, smoothing some of my hair from my face. “Okay, Carter. Just think about what I said. Okay?”

“Night, Mom.”

With a sigh, she rose. “Good night, honey.” With a final glance back, she closed my door.

* * * * * * * *

Over the next few days, things returned to normal. Brooke started talking to me again, and things with Kevin were like they had always been. Even my mother and I were able to treat each other civilly again.

However, Kevin once again unknowingly threw my life in turmoil. In our English class, we had just finished our section on the Romantic poets. As the bell rang to dismiss class, Kevin leaned forward and tapped me on the shoulder.

“Yes?” I asked.

“I’ve written some poetry,” he said. “Would you mind reading it for me?”

“Sure, I guess,” I replied.

“Thanks, Carter.” He handed a couple of sheets of paper.

With care, I put them in a pocket of my binder. “I’ll see you later, Kevin.”

He waved. “Later.”

* * * * * * * *

“So, what did Kevin give you?” Brooke asked.

I shrugged. “Some of his poetry to review.”

“I didn’t know that he wrote poetry,” she stated.

“Neither did I, but it’s going to have to wait until after third period.”

“Why?”

I laughed. “Have you forgotten about our chemistry test today?”

Brooke paled. “Oh, dear God, I can’t believe I forgot. Why didn’t you remind, Carter? This is all your fault!”

“Calm down, Brooke,” I ordered. “You’re going to have a heart attack.”

“You bet I am, especially if I fail that test,” she cried, digging through her bag for her chemistry notes.

I handed her mine. “You’re not going to fail. Since you’ve been doing the homework, you’ll do fine.”

“Whatever,” Brooke replied, immersing herself into the wonderful world of chemistry.

Seeing my friend occupied, I pulled out the first of Kevin’s poems. It was entitled, “I Will Always Be There.” With a sinking feeling, I discovered that the others had a similar theme.

“Hey, Carter, you okay?” Brooke asked.

“Oh, I just realized I didn’t do my trig homework last night,” I replied. “Let’s hope that Mr. Michaels forgets to collect it.”

“That’s what I like about you, Carter,” Brooke said, “you’re always an optimist.”

* * * * * * * *

During one of the break periods, I searched the halls for Jared. Seeing him with the current girlfriend of the month, I walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. The younger girl glared at me, but I pointedly ignored her.

“We need to talk,” I stated. “Now.”

Without waiting for his response, I turned and headed for the courtyard, Jared on my heels. Finding a vacant corner, I turned to Jared and handed him the poetry. Scanning the poems quickly, he shook his head and handed them back.

“I can’t say that I’m surprised,” he said.

“What am I suppose to do, Jared?” I cried. “My mother hates you. She’s already threatened to send me to my father in Jackson. Can you imagine what she would do with this?”

“You’re just going to have to tell him.”

“Tell him what? God, Jared, do you have any idea how much I hate this?”

“I know, I know,” he murmured sympathetically. “This whole deal sucks.”

“He doesn’t deserve this,” I said, tears stinging my eyes. However, I wasn’t sure who I was going to cry for: me, Kevin, or both of us.

“Neither of you do,” Jared replied readily. “Carter, if I knew a way to handle this for you, I would. But Kevin is not going to back off until you tell him that you aren’t interested.”

I closed my eyes and leaned against the brick wall, absently thinking about ramming my head against it repeatedly. If Kevin was white, my mother would be urging me to date him. The whole situation seemed unreal.

“Do me a favor, Jared?”

“What?”

“If he wants to send me flowers or something, try to dissuade him, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a mock salute. “Carter, do you think that we could at least be friends?”

“Not right now, Jared,” I said, opening my eyes. “I just can’t right now.”

“Fair enough,” he answered quietly. “I’ll see you around.”

* * * * * * * *

“Hey, Kevin,” I greeted as I took my seat in English the following day. “I’ve read your poetry. It’s pretty good.”

I handed the poems back but he shook his head. “I wrote them for you, Carter.”

“I can’t keep them, Kevin,” I said softly. “I’m sorry.”

Reluctantly, he took them. As I faced forward, he tapped my shoulder. He handed me a single sheet of paper.

“Just keep this one,” he said quietly.

I opened it to find that it was the first poem I read, “I Will Always Be There.” With a smile, I took it and tucked it carefully into my notebook.

“Thank you, Kevin.”

He smiled and then went to his work. Blinking away the tears threatening to form, I stared at my literature book. However, the literature we were studying seemed pretty insignificant to the heartfelt poem held inside my notebook.

* * * * * * * *

“I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”
-- Martin Luther King, Jr.