Black Power |An Interracial Eminem Fanfiction|

~One~

{ Dedicated to reignofshady rookiem stantrash ZoeTheHalfrican }

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Seventeen year old Ajala-Leigh stepped carefully onto the pavement as if the wrong step could send her plummeting to gates of Hell, frighteningly unready to face The Devil. She was humming a bit from "Beauty School Dropout" from the movie Grease, an oldie but a goodie as far as she was concerned.

She looked up to the sky as she saw the bright cerulean sky splatter across the horizon. Her hefty lavender book bag was firmly strapped to her back and a maroon binder was tightly clutched to her chubby chest. Ajala loved to walk to school. It kept her mind off of her younger siblings, all five of them. Thomasine-Jane, Patti-Mae, Nation, Maxine-Rebekah, Alessia-Sonya sometimes got on her nerves with their naive ness.

She walked up to aged bricks and scent of old meat and sneakers of Lincoln High School, where she was finishing up her senior year. Ajala-Leigh looked up at the dark brown door, took a deep breath and pushed it open.

The first thing she witnessed was a white boy being beat up in the corner of the lobby. A bigger guy was kicking the white kid's face as it bled onto the tile. Ajala dropped the school supplies almost instantly. When there was an opportunity to kick and hurt the white race in any way, shape or form, she took it.

Her foot entered the boys slim stomach. She felt bone but continued, hopeful she'd be able to hurt him. Fear hit her blindly which filed her anger.

The bigger guy encouraged her to steal the white guy's book bag. She froze, a little afraid of the guys for a second, but another wave of fear crashed onto her scared beach of calmness as she grasped the book bag and threw it into the air. Ajala kicked the bag, splitting the cheap thing in half. All his papers fluttered to the floor.

"What's going on in here?" A familiar voice.

"Sh**, it's Mrs. Amos!" The bigger guy shouted. Mrs. Amos was the principal that ruled with a strict hatred for racism and bullying. Which one of those things Ajala was committing.

All the kids ran off including her, leaving Ajala with the last view of the kid's pure black and swollen blue eyes. She threw he things into her locker and went to first period.

All over her red spiral notebook, she scribbled a photo of the white kids from her memory. By the time the forty five minutes ended, she had scribbled a full on picture. She was pretty good at this.

She walked out, toting her school supplies. She locked eyes in the same white kid from before. He was lying on the ground, lifting his hand as the thousands of students rushed past him to get to the next class. His stuff was kicked in several corners of the lobby, making it impossible for him to pick everything up and get to class in time.

Ajala knocked his hand down as she stepped over him. She felt a sense of pride. After all, the white race was to be hated. It was kind of like payback for what would have happened to Ajala if she was on the ground and the white kid was supposed to help her up.