"Sick and tired of being mistreated,
Neglected for no reason."
_
"Hello. I'm Jayme." I introduced myself to one of the women.
"Uh, do I know you?" She asked in an aggressive tone.
"No. But, I live in these apartments." I turned around, pointing to my building. "And, I think I've seen you around here a few times."
"Yeah, I be around. What's it to you?" Now either she had been upset about something, or she just needed to cut me some slack.
"I was just wondering." My eyes roamed her body and all that it consisted of. "You don't look like the rest of us 'round here."
"What you tryin' to say? What's that suppose to mean?" Her neck rolled while her eyes followed.
"Just that you look like you got money, that's all. You don't look poor like the rest of us. I mean, your clothes look like they cost about $100, your hair must've been done by a professional, and I noticed you have a cellular device in your hand." Both of our eyes shot down at the phone.
"Oh." The woman's shoulders moved in an up and down fashion. "Well, I work my ass off to get what I have."
"Can't I work like you, and have what you have?" I asked.
"What?" She scolded me. "Chile, you can't handle the work I do."
I rolled my eyes at the sound of her belligerent tone.
"Look, my mama aint got no money." I said, sighing. "We hardly have any food, and we need a car. Any money could help us, really."
"So, you want a job, huh?" She laughed.
"Anything that'll change the way we live, I'll do it."
The girl's eyes enlarged. "You're serious?! You really want to work?"
"Yes, I really want to work." I shook my head up and down, in agreement.
"You in school?"
"Yeah," My shoulders moved in an up and down fashion. "But I haven't been going."
"Why not?" She seemed astonished
"I just don't go no more. I don't want to go."
The real reason I hadn't been going to school was because mama couldn't afford to buy me any supplies, or school clothes. I didn't want to have to deal with the humiliation, over and over. I didn't want the kids calling me dirty nor poor, again. I had already been down that road, and I didn't want to go back down it.
"Girl, don't you know the state can take you from your Mama? Don't you know they can lock her up, and place you in a foster home?"
"No. I didn't know that." I lied. They had tried to take me on numerous occasions. Each time failed, greatly.
"Well, they can." She waved me off. "Anyways, let me talk to my boss, and I'll see what I can do. How old are you?"
"Does age matter?" I crossed my arms above my chest, rising my left brow. "I'm fifteen."
"As a matter-of-fact, no it doesn't. Don't matter how old you are. You say you live in those apartments over there?" The girl then pointed to my building.
"Yeah. Apartment A136."
"When I hear from my boss, I'll let you know what he says, alright?"
I agreed with her, then headed back over to the bench, just when I realized I didn't catch her name.
