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Wonder.
Being overly curious about something that didn't even involve you. You wondered what was going on with someone based on how they acted or how they are. You always wonder especially when you're very intrigued about what has you wondering
Wonder.
Sometimes you go as far as overstepping your boundaries when you're concerned about someone that you deeply care about.
Wonder.
Feeling doubt that the person is not okay and you'd do everything to help even when they don't want it.
Wonder.
"Ms.Dune." One of my students called out as I was talking, pissing me off a little bit. It didn't bother me as much though.
"Yes, Cora." I stopped what I was doing and put my attention on her. Cora always raised her hand to ask questions. She was one of my only students who seemed interested in what I was actually teaching.
I taught "Black History." Which is an elective and I very much did enjoy educating younger black children about who we are, where we came from, and when we got here. Even though they didn't seem interested I always kept going.
"We were fed to alligators is what you're telling me." She looked so disgusted and I nodded my head, noticing that what she just said had caught a few others' attention.
"Yes. Pickanninies were young black children like yourselves who were described as unkempt, dirty, and with bright wide red lips. Used as bait for alligators." I informed them.
"Why were we called pickaninnys?" Sebastian asked.
"Comes from the word pequenino which means "very small" in Portuguese."
"Is that where blackface comes from? Is pickaninnys?" Adore asked.
"Kind of but not really. Black face is theatrical makeup to mock black people. They use the same stereotype though. Big wide red lips and a black face." She nodded her head and simply continued on with the lesson before assigning an assignment on Google Classroom.
They did their work quietly before the bell rang meaning that it was time to leave. Lord knows I was ready to go. Before the classroom was empty I stopped one of my students, Zeina.
Seeing that she was struggling to put her work in her bag. I saw the evident tears in her eyes which made me wonder was the lesson too much or if was something going on at home.
"Zeina," I called out softly and she stopped in her tracks.
"Honey, what's going on?" I asked and she shrugged.
Zeina was never the one to speak up. She never said anything she was the type to hold everything in and then explode.
"Nothing." She spoke quietly and I nodded my head.
"Did you need a ride back home? I know it's quite chilly outside today." I asked and she shook her head "no" and I frowned knowing she was going to have to walk home.
"You sure honey?" I asked again and she hesitated before nodding her head "yes". I sighed gladly that she told me yes. It was too cold for her to be walking home. She lived a bit further out so I knew it was going to take her a while before she would even arrive home.
"Just give me a second. I have to go check in with Principal Meyers." I told her and she nodded.
———
"Are you hungry?" I asked looking over in her direction.
"Yes." She spoke softly.
"McDonald's or Jack In The Box?"
"McDonald's."
I nodded pulling into the drive-thru and waiting for our order to be taken. I told the lady what we wanted and pulled up to the first window so I could pay for everything and grabbed our food at the second.
I handed Zeina her bag of food and she politely thanked me before taking a sip of her Hi-C. It was a comfortable silence, I knew Zeina didn't want to talk. She never did. Especially when it came to me asking about how everything was at home.
She'd brush me off and I would catch the hint.
Pulling into her driveway she smiled, before thanking me and getting out of my car. I waited for her to go in before driving off.
I looked down at my phone seeing that Zeina had texted me from her mothers' phone.
Thank you. The message read and I smiled to myself.
——-
This is something different honestly.
I haven't written like this ever. The little poems at the beginning are a hint of what the chapter mains focus will be on.
