"But I don't get it." Leala put her hair into a ponytail. "How could a male African American teenager with no weapons be a threat to a police officer who's armed?"
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Harmony's older brother was found dead, and the cop who killed him wasn't charge...
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I noticed a lot of African American news reporters—along with journalists—that were there; they stayed and filmed the whole thing. I wondered if I was going to be on the News the next time it aired.
"You did great," Dad said cheerfully while we walked into the house.
"She did great doing what?" Mom picked at some chicken she was cooking on the stove with a metal fork.
"Oh, nothing." Dad grabbed her waist from behind and pulled her into him. Mom let out a giggle before breaking off some of the already-cooked chicken to feed him.
I made gagging noises. "Your room is five steps away."
They kissed just to get on my nerves before Dad stole a fry. "How've you and David been?"
My heart sunk at the memory. I'd done a good job at forgetting about the break-up by keeping myself busy, but now that it was being brought up, I had to fight with myself to not break down in tears.
I swallowed the huge lump of sorrow. "We. . . uh, we broke up." I blinked quickly to help get rid of the tears that were quickly building up in my eyes.
"Aww, Sweetie, I'm sorry." Dad approached me with open arms.
"Don't touch me." I put my arms out to stop him. "I don't wanna be touched." The part I left out was that if I was touched, those feelings that I've pushed down so deep into my heart would begin to erupt like a volcano. "Alright, how about we eat?"
Dinner was a little awkward. I was afraid that my dad would forget the lie that we made up as to why he and I didn't come straight home after church. I could tell Mom wasn't buying into it and thanked God when she just kept her mouth shut.
She was against this whole protesting thing and I was sure as hell she'd beat the shit outta me if she found out her very own daughter was the leader of such 'nonsense' as she called it.
After dinner, I took a shower and then threw the couch pillows off of my so-called bed. I went to sleep with David on my mind. No matter how hard I tried to push him out, our memories flooded my brain. I tried to keep my crying as quiet as possible so I wouldn't wake my parents; the last thing I wanted was for one of them to wake up and bombard me with questions.
I woke up to my mom's wonderful bacon going in through my nostrils. I inhaled once more while stretching and yawning. I guess today I didn't need an alarm clock.
"Morning, Honey." Mom flipped a pancake.
"Got a raise?" I stood from my bed. There was no way we were eating this good with the money that I thought we had.
"Mhm." Mom beamed. "They're making me the manager of Chick-Fil-A."
"Ohh, congrats." I grinned while fishing through the clothes Leala gave me.
After doing my daily routine, I put on a gray long-sleeved Nike crop top—with the word 'Nike' in white and all caps, pastel blue denim skinny jeans, and the new Air Force Ones Leala recently gave me. I didn't like wearing the same shoe back-to-back, but when you're in the type of situation that I'm in, you did what had to be done.
The walk to school seemed to go by slower than usual—maybe because I didn't want to go to school today. I feared that the other students would pull another stunt on me. What if it was going to be worse than the last? What if I ended up in a hospital?
Was this what being bullied felt like?
I sighed as I pulled open the school doors. Leala wasn't with me this time because she had a meeting for the Yearbook Committee that she had to attend. Leala texted me what room she would be in, so I tried to get as close to that room as I could.
On my way to the room, I tripped over something and barely caught myself with my hands. I looked up to spot about five kids pointing and laughing at me. David was amongst the group and he had his arms over a brunette's shoulders.
Damn, he moved on fast.
I couldn't hide the hurt look on my face once I saw him. I slowly got off of the ground and brushed off my pants. "Oh, did the teachers let a bunch of middle schoolers in here?" I cocked my head to the side.
"We're not middle schoolers," one of the girls said.
"Oh, so elementary kids?" I blinked innocently at all of their shocked faces.
"No," David spoke. "We're high schoolers."
"Then fucking act like it, you son of a bitch." I flipped my hair before walking off—smiling to myself once I heard their gasps. They sounded like music to my ears.
"What the fuck just happened?" Leala came rushing to me. "They're picking on you again?"
"Yeah."
"You need to talk to the principal."
"I'm pretty sure I can fight my own battles."
My phone vibrated with a message from Calo:
Meet me at Starbucks whenever you can. I have something very important to ask you.
