Ren Yong
Brett and Eli leave my car. I watch as they go into Brett's house, which is the moment I let myself become vulnerable. With a surge of emotion, I let out a primal scream as I repeatedly banged my hands on the steering wheel, the sound echoing through the stillness. Finally, I rest my head on the wheel, overcome with emotions.
Today has been a shitty day. What I wish for the most is to go home and wallow in my sadness under my blanket, but I have other plans.
I put the car in drive as I drove to my next location: the police station. Once there, I headed inside to see my parents and younger brother waiting for me at the front desk.
"Dāngshí nǐ zài nǎlǐ?" (Where were you?) Mom inquired.
I often hesitate to speak Chinese in public despite being fluent.
As the harassment became more frequent, I grew more self-conscious and relegated myself to only speaking Chinese when I was at home.
Because of this, I have distanced myself from my family and our culture.
"I dropped off my friends," I replied.
"Tāmen zài lìyòng nǐ," (They are using you.) Dad commented.
They're not using..." I threw my head back, letting out a frustrated groan.
Since my parents met my friends, they often expressed their disapproval. It was mostly my dad who believed my friends were a bad influence on me. But despite their concerns, they're my friends, and I will remain loyal to them.
"Can we get this over with, please?" I asked.
We waited at the front desk until we heard an officer call our name.
"Yong family, hi. I'm Detective Benson," he said, shaking my parents' hands.
We followed Detective Benson to the sort of rooms you see on the law shows with the two-way mirrors.
"Now, what's going to happen? A few people will enter the room, and you'll be able to see them; they won't be able to see you. And I'm going to ask you to point out the suspect." Detective Benson said, and I nodded.
Six white men walk into the room; they all look withered in the face, angry, and have a hateful spirit. I guess hate does make you age like a raisin.
Detective Benson asked, "Do you recognize the man who defaced your car?"
I studied every man carefully; however, none of them looked like the man who sprayed the hateful word on my car.
I shook my head.
"None of these men are the one," I said.
"Okay," Detective Benson said, then knocked on the glass.
"So what now?" I asked.
We followed Detective Benson to another room with some privacy.
He gestured for us to sit at the table and sat on the opposite end with a pen and notepad.
"Since none of the men looked familiar, we'll need another description. Now, I want you to think carefully. Can you remember anything about the culprit? Even the smallest details can help," Detective Benson asked.
"Umm." I close my eyes to think.
"From his clothing, he seemed like a redneck. A white male with a gray goatee. He was wearing shades and had wrinkly skin.".
Detective Benson wrote down all the information I gave him. He was about to ask something, but Mom spoke first.
"What are we supposed to do? This has been the third time my family has been harassed, and no one is doing anything,".
YOU ARE READING
Senior Year (BoyxBoy)
Novela JuvenilSenior year can be tough, especially when you're trying to balance work, dating, extracurricular activities, social life, and family. For these four friends, it's no different. They're all feeling the pressure as graduation approaches, all while try...
