white-passing- jamal turner

thirty-one

Jamal was running for class president against Ruby, and I was positive he would win. Even if it was a last-minute thing, he had the support of everyone, and no offense to Ruby, but his personality didn't mesh with the role. 

"Vote for Jamal!" I said, passing out fliers to people in the hall and sticking them on the walls and bulletin boards. 

A group of girls passed by, whispering things to their friends and looking intently at me.

"Can I help you?" I said snarkily. They all got the message and backed off. 

Jamal now being the popular kid meant other girls were constantly trying to get with him. I found myself growing jealous and more protective, something I never wanted to be. I'm not a jealous person, and I never have been. And it's not like I don't trust Jamal. I just wished girls would leave him alone.

Guys tried to get with me all the time, but it's different because I always ignored them and knew I only had eyes for one person. Jamal got quite jealous of it too, and I'd have to reassure him more than I thought was necessary. It was like he was terrified of me cheating on him when I'd never in a million years do that.

"Querida!" my mom called to me from the kitchen, "Dinner's ready!"

That's another thing that changed. My mom started working on her English, and she learned pretty quickly. She could always understand English, but it was the speaking part that was hard. 

"One sec. I'm on the phone!" I said before returning to Jamal, "I gotta go. Dinner. Love you!"

"Love you too, cinnamon bun."

"Cinnamon bun?" I said, raising an eyebrow.

"What, you don't like it?"

I sighed and laughed, "Better than sugar plum."

We hung up, and I went into the kitchen where dinner was served. It's been a year, and it still felt weird constantly eating dinner without Izabel. We'd been a family of four for so long, and now it was a family of three. 

"So, AJ," my dad said, "How's the campaign going?"

"It's going well! I think he's gonna win," I said, scooping up a bit of rice with my fork, "Ruby doesn't stand a chance."

"Ruby?" my mom said, "You all used to be such good friends. I miss him. And Monse."

I shrugged, "Well, it happens. People change."

"But not you guys!" my dad said, "Baby, you realize that by Jamal possibly winning and  crushing Ruby's dream of becoming class president, your friendship will definitely come to a close."

"I don't care," I said coldly, "We're not friends anymore, and we never will be. I have new and better friends."

My parents looked at each other before looking back at me. They didn't really like my cheerleader friends, but that night they decided not to push my buttons about it.

"How's the college essay looking?" my dad said.

"I revised it again today," I said. 

My college essay was the classic first-gen child experience. With the addition of speaking three languages and gang violence, how could any college resist? Jamal and I were applying to all of the same colleges, still unsure which one either of us wanted to go to. All I knew was I wanted to get out of Freeridge.

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