Just Be Free (Lesbian Story)

Hey, my name is Free Jones. I’m sixteen years old, and I live in south side Chicago. I can’t really say I like living in the hood, but it’s the only place I know to call home. So it is what it is.  I live in a tiny cramped three bedroom apartment, in a rundown, high-rise building.  It was small, I shared a room with my little sister Marissa, which wasn’t a big deal since she was only five months, she ain’t take up much space.  The room was still small though. I also had a little brother named Jabari, he was six, and had his own room since he was the only boy. I say no fair, but whatever.  Anyway it was the end of the day. It was about ten-thirty. The kids were sleep, and I was up just winding down from the day I had. I heard helicopters overhead, sirens in the distance, people outside in my building arguing, fighting, talking loud or whatever. These walls were so thin, you could hear everything everyone said. Cars drove down the street outside. But my place was quiet. My mother was working late, as normal, she always worked late. My mom worked two jobs one as a waitress, one as a security guard. Most times it was only me, and my siblings at home.  Anyway it was the end  of the day. I was just sitting back, relaxing some. I had my journal open, and was trying to think of something to write. I tapped my pen against my journal. Today was average. Well not completely average, we got a new girl at school today. I really ain’t pay her no mind but, everyone else sure did. She walked in my fourth period class, and everybody stop, and stared. So I did too, and I knew exactly why they were just staring. She was a White girl. Like I said I live in south side Chicago, Washington Park area, and it ain’t nothing but Black people. So when you see a White girl stroll in, you stop, and you stare.  She was different, and it went deeper than the skin. She had blonde hair, blue eyes, she was just what my mom always described as the “Blue Eyed Devil.”  Mind you, my mother is the most racist person I ever known.  She hated White people with a passion. Me, I didn’t mind White people, they ain’t bother, but I never really been around them either, so I don’t know. But I’m sure I won’t be as disgusted as my mother is of them. Anyway she was different, and it ran deeper than the skin. I couldn’t think of anything to write so I shut my journal, and turned on my back. I sighed, how come I was always so restless at night. I flicked off my reading lamp, and put my journal in my nightstand drawer. A bright helicopter search light  flashed through my window.  Welcome to life in the hood. 

“Free, you better get yo ass up! I ain’t coming up to that damn school again clearing suspensions, cause yo ass don’t wanna get up!” my mom hollered.  I sat up in my bed, and rubbed my eyes. The television was blasting the morning news up front, I heard food sizzling on the stove. My house was loud. Can I just wake up one morning and it be quiet for once? I kicked my covers off of me.  I rolled out of bed, and got ready for school. Once I was dressed and fully ready, I headed up front. The news was on, and of course nothing but bad news. Somebody shot somebody, somebody got robbed, a new gang is rising. Same shit, different day.  I sat down at the table. 

“Morning Free” Jabari said. 

“Morning” I said. Jabari was eating a bowl of frosted flakes with toast. 

“Free, when you get out of school be sure to pick up Marissa from Ms. Lady’s place. I can’t keep her today, I got an early shift down at the restaurant. Also you gotta pick up ya brother from his after school program, be there at five-thirty. Ya hear me girl” my mom said.

“Yeah mama, I hear you” I said. She sat down a plate in front of me. I had scrambled eggs, toast, and sausage patties. 

“And hurry up, and eat that breakfast, Jabari can’t miss his bus” my mama said. I began to eat. I was done eating, Jabari was still chewing. 

“Hurry up man, you gonna make me late, you keep slowing around” I said getting up from the table. I went and grabbed my backpack. I walked to my room, and put my journal in my backpack, never know when I’d have a thought. Marissa was still fast asleep in her crib.