Birch and Lawrence **OLD**

Town Square

Birch washed his blonde hair and combed it through. He checked his skin over and over again to ensure that it was free of pimples or acne. He gave his hands a thorough wash, being sure to get out every dirt particle from underneath his fingernails. Soon after that, he saddled up Belle, the Kelton family mare, and cantered to town. His muscles twitched excitedly as he thought of Lawrence, and he hoped that he would be there.

Meanwhile, Lawrence hurried to town on foot. He still wore the same clothes, but he made sure his hair was neat and proper. He dreamed about this day the night before, having dreams both good and bad. First, he dreamed that he had done something awful without knowing it, Birch was an undercover klansman luring him into a trap. Then, Birch was an angel who was there to save him from his awful mother and give him food, clothes, and love. After that, Birch bound and gagged Lawrence, threw him into a sack, and brought him to a torture chamber to be mutilated to death. But he was soon transformed into a superhero who protected him from the klansmen and all other demons in his life. When he woke up, Lawrence thought about nightmares, and hesitated on whether or not to meet Birch in the town. But then again, they were dreams and nothing more. He got ready and headed out.

 Birch arrived at the town a few minutes early. It was alive with men stocking shops, women hushing babies, and children laughing and playing. Birch tethered Belle to a post nearby and waited near the benches designated to colored folk. He paced nervously, feeling his plams begin to sweat, wondering if he had made the right decision. That's when he saw him. He looked the same as he did last night, wearing the same clothes and having the same hairstyle. He looks good though, Birch thought. How do I look? I sure hope I don't look bad.

Lawrence looked up and gasped softly. There he is! he thought as adrenaline shot through his legs. Well, it's time to find out whether or not he's evil.

The pears! Don't you remember the pears? the little voice in his head replied. Not every white kid will let some nigger have his fruit, y'know!

Lawrence was at a stalemate with the voice. He took a deep breath and trotted towards Birch.

"How are you?" Birch asked shyly, running his hands through his hair. Lawrence stopped to catch his breath and gave him a little smile. "I, I'm good," he replied. "And you?"

"I feel wonderful," Birch said, speaking the words on his mind.

Once again, they shared another moment of awkward silence. Birch wished he knew what to say to Lawrence, because it looked like Lawrence didn't have much to say.

"You got some really pretty eyes," Birch told him. Lawrence blushed a little. He still disliked being complimented for his outer appearence, but this time he felt happy. "Thank you," he said softly.

Gradually, they struck up a conversation. They talked about everything from their hobbies and interests, to their favorite foods, and remarkably had quite a lot in common. They became more comfortable as they talked, feeling like they had known each other for years. As they laughed and talked, a middle aged white woman stared. A white boy and a nigger boy talking to each other! She had never seen something so awful in all her life. That's when Birch turned around with a sour look. "What'chu lookin' at, chu musty ole hag?" he snapped.

"Whaddoyou think you're doin', talkin' to some ugly lil' nigger kid?" she snapped back.

"Mind yer own damn business!" Birch replied. "This ain't none a' yer concern!"

"D'you know what the night men do to nigger lovers?" she yipped. "They cover 'em in hot tar 'n feather 'em!"

"Man, I don' give a damn!" Birch said, surprised at the words coming out of his mouth. "Them stupid night men can go eat dirt. I don' give a damn." He would be tarred and feathered a billion times for his new friend. "Go 'n mind your own damn business, lady!"

That's when she stepped over and popped Birch across the face. Lawrence scurried away and hid behind a barrel of pickles. Birch stood there for a brief moment, his head still turned to the side. Did he really just get slapped? He didn't even know the old bitch! He turned his face to her, wearing a relatively calm expression. He wanted to give the bitch an even harder slap, but he was going to handle this like an adult. A mature, open-minded adult. "I have nothing to say to you, m'am," he said calmly, "although I will say this; Worry about you, not me. I'm pretty sure you have lots of problems in your life, and stickin' your nose into other people's business is no way to solve them."

The woman said nothing. She adjusted her hat and headed to a knitting store. Birch turned his attention to Lawrence, who was still crouching behind the pickle jar. "Y'alright?" he asked, helping him up. "Yeah," he replied. "I, I'm okay." Birch blushed as he thought of a question. "Hey, Lawrence," he said softly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you, um, d'you wanna meet back here tonight at three? Just so, y'know, the uh..."

Lawrence gently took Birch's arm. "I'd love to," he said with a smile.

Birch returned the smile. "Uh, okay, that's good. Thanks. I mean it's because we seem like we'd be such good friends 'n all, and...yeah.."

They talked for a little while longer before they parted ways. As Birch rode home, he was full of daydreams and bouyancy. He and Lawrence we going to be best buddies! They shared so many interests, and and it was so easy for them to talk to each other, it was very likely.