Welcome to Corescentstead

Chapter 5: Gavel

Shutar Growden came back to the plant and got rid of the dog in the background. They put him in his cage and gave him an arm.

By the time he returned, we got together and had dinner. I sat down in the living room and Juandre picked up 46 plates for everyone in the backyard. He came again and got the rest of the 50 plates.

We have more and he came back to leave five plates out. He's not allowed to keep more then what he is given but also he's learning magic in secret.

I know how to use the Word and that's about it. We aren't allowed to do anymore then that. And the Asians are in the house are like beauty and the beast silverware. That's all they do and I have to say they good at cleaning the floor.

It's so shiny.

Juandre pulled out his folding tray and ate in the living room with me. "I'm so sick of Lalique's gay ass."

"You mean Marlize?" I stick my fork in my chicken. "You need a table." he says. "Who ate Lalique's kool-aid pops?"

"One of the Asians." I eat my collared greens. "Bastards. I was waiting for a nice cool pop."

"I like it the salty watermelon." I say. "You what I got?"

"What?" I eat the pinto beans and eat my chicken leg. "A salt pack."

"You still eat salt?"

"You know our cousins work in the Salt Valley?" he speaks. "The salt valley?"

"That's where salt comes from Jalena..."

"Oh..." I'm not like everybody else. I knew that when found the witch's hut. "Hey, Juandre... can you read minds?"

"I mind but business but yes. Who the fuck salted the pinto beans?"

"I did?"

HE sprinkles more salt on the beans. "You were paid."

"What's that mean?"

"It means after your daddy died. You got to live with these damn white people..."

"Are the Growdens mixed?"

"You ain't." he wipes his lips with his rag. "You always look at mixed people with such privilege." Juandre leans in the sofa. "That's not right."

"I like mixed people. I'm dark skin."

"You are black, Jelena. You stay in the damn house long enough you'll be speaking Chinese." he leers. "Tell me where the bathroom is."

"Xǐshǒujiān zài nǎlǐ..." Is it bad that I know Chinese? I know a little Japanese too. Juandre has been trying to get it out of me for years. Maybe I'm ignoring my own voice like Ms. Bun Bun says. Do I sound weird?

Juandre shakes his head. "You are black. I told yo daddy he was wrong for what he was doing. I guess I should be thankful." he eats his chicken. "At least you educated."

"I don't think it's bad..."

"Goddamn it Jalena... for the first three years, your name was Joanpole or some shit. Jalena is what your mother named you."

"Jeonpo..." I correct and stare aimlessly at my plate. My chicken is going to be cold. "Whatever..." Juandre bites his cornbread aggressively. "Fucking John... a girl named John..." he glowers. "Don't make no damn sense. Yo daddy let Asians raise your ass. You write in Chinese and speak it." he snaps his head at me. "You are a nigga! From ya head to yo toes. Down the crack of yo ass."

"It doesn't matter... at least I got somewhere. You've been telling me ever since I was 12 how black I was."

"I hoped to God yo ass would learn. You stay in this house and have no idea what is in the backyard."

"I do!" Where is this coming from. "You don't! Say plant!"

"Plant!"

"In Chinese!"

"Zhíwù!"

"I'm done!" he moves his tray out the way and storms out the livingroom. "The old bitch has a point." says Mr. Suumade passing by. "You are black." he licks his lips. "The Chinese made stewards but like for royalty. Hell, if you had somebody working for an emperor. You could send your family money."

"What's so bad about that?" I look over my shoulder. "That's it." he walks away.

I'm being stupid again. That's what Buns always says. I still have my kimono...

Lalique and Marlize made it. Some Asians work in the shed. Uncle Xuegang said, 'You call it a sweatshop.'

If Juandre told me, Uncle Xuegang enforced it. He said, we don't even have the same eyes. We don't have the same skin. Juandre and Uncle got into a fight so he bite him. Over something like Martin Luther King.

I remember when aunt Bèimiàn, Uncle Xuegang's wife, died. Juandre helped him bury her. Uncle Xuegang said emotions are batteries; Juandre just has too much energy and looks for a way to get rid of it.

I don't see what's wrong with being raised Chinese. Eon and I used to play together. One day he had picked marijuana from the garden. Mr. Suumade whooped him and said he wasn't allowed in the house. I understood why.

Marijuana is for the haul. We pick it and get paid a good 12.30 by the hour. Juandre usually stays in the field for hours.

That's a hundred and twenty-three dollars. I think he also got behind the salt trade because we don't seasoning. Shutar let him have a business outside the house.

I've never had a potluck before.