Colors

1960

I could see them from across the street. Not even bothering trying to be unseen. A group of white teenagers, probably my classmates, cornering a black teenager. I could see their mouths moving, probably shouting profanities. My hands tightened around the milk carton in my hand.

The cap I wore still covered my face, my hair tucked safely away in it, my nearly famous face covered from the public.

I looked away from the window of the shop, and looked at the cans of corn in front of me. My father won't be pleased to know I didn't come home with what he told me to bring.

I looked out of the window again, and fists were flying. The teenager with a darker skin color, was being held down. That was the last straw.

I stormed to the front of the store, slamming the milk carton in front of the clerk and sped out of the store. I nearly ran across the street pulling off the cap, releasing the brown hair flow to its full length, my appearence becoming familiar to the public once again.

Once I reached the group of disgusting humans, I pushed my way into the flying fists.
"THAT IS ENOUGH." The anger screamed out of me. I stood in front of the young black teen. Close up, he looked about our age.
I looked around in the group, I saw the familiar faces of my classmates. They started yelling at me, but then noticed who they were yelling at. The police chiefs daughter. The girl who could take a punch better than a grown man.
"the nigger doesn't belong here. You know that." One of them said. The brunette stood in front of me, blue eyes with pure hatred- Able Lowry, rich and worshiped by the school for his money. I could hear the heavy breathing of the boy behind me, as the boys holding him just dropped him. He fell to the ground, coughing.

"The nigger belongs here as much as any of us do. And I won't stand for this any longer. Get out of here before you all end up in prison with a 10 year sentence." The word tasted bitter in my mouth. The word they use to separate us from others.

"How exactly would you do that sweetheart? We just saw this poor gentleman getting beat up by a gang of men!" Able smirked and crossed his arms.

     "Honey," i drawled the word sweetly, "you and I both know that there are photos of you with certain women. I've caught you more than once with a stolen pack of cigarettes. And honey, I have all the proof that is needed, plus witnesses. Don't think for a second you get to play the rich and innocent card. Not with that I have on you. That goes for your boys too." I nodded to the rest of the group.
        Able's face dropped. I knew he could call bluff, but his face was uncertain. He knew I had been there on several occasions, and knew that what I had against him. One wrong move and he was toast. The boy should probably be in jail already, but his mother was too rich for anyone to care. Next time, I'd have a damn good reason to put him in jail, and for his momma to let it happen.
     I turned to the boy behind me, and listened as a confused murmur went threw Ables group of friends as Able did the right thing and walked away.
       "Are you alright?" The beaten down teenager looked at me with confusion in his eyes as I crouched beside him.

His face was bruising and swelling, nose bloody and possibly broken, and lip busted. He wouldn't answer me. Only attempted to stand.
When he began to falter, I placed my hands on either side of his arms. He stiffened at my touch.

"Look. I'm trying to help you," I paused. "I'm sorry for using... that word. But, you need to get cleaned up. Come with me." I pulled his arm gently. He hesitated. "Please trust me. I swear on my mommas grave and my daddy's job that I only want to help." I could only hope he would trust me.
I tugged gently again, and he followed with a limp. I took him across the street to where the pharmacy was. There wasn't a sign that said "whites only" or "colored only" because this man wasn't racist like the rest of the town.
I walked in with him in tow, the jingle of the door sounded. The store was lined with medicine, a clean white look to it.

"Mr. Johnson. I'm coming in." I continued to walk straight to the back. I pushed the employees only door open and came to the small doctors room.

I jestured for my new friend to sit on the cot. Once again he hesitated, but when I gave him a stern look, he sat. I crossed the small back room and opened the freezer that sat in the corner, next to extra boxes. Inside sat ice and a couple of medical things, along with a raw stake. I grabbed the stake, reached for the medical kit in the shelves and grabbed alcohol, cotton swabs, and a wash cloth, that I wet in the small sink next to the freezer.

My new friend just watched me, and took in my appearence. I knew I looked kinda funny. Not many girls around here wore jeans and shirts like the boys. But hell, It was more comforable.
I pulled a stool in front of the cot and pulled a rolling table in with me. I placed the stake in the table with the alcohol, and grabbed the now wetted wash cloth.

"I'm going to wipe the blood off, okay?" He nodded slightly, and I brought the cloth up to his face. He winced as it touched near his eye. I tried to be gentle, but with this new person just staring at me with a deep set of brown eyes, made me shift in my seat. I noticed his skin was a light caramel, that was a little bit darker than his eyes. That continued to stare as I worked on being gentle with the cloth.

"Do you have a name?" Suddenly he spoke. I was taken aback by it. His voice was deep and smooth. I raised my eyebrows, my hand paused at his forehead. Obviously he was new here. He didn't know who I was. I was taken aback by it.

"Katie? Is that you" I heard behind me. Mr. Johnson walked in behind me. I turned slightly, and dropped my hand to my lap. The older white man with silvering hair and round spectacles was wearing his pharmacy coat, and holding different types of medicines in his hands.

"Good heavens!" Mr. Johnson looked at my friend. "What happened? Or should I even ask."

"Take a wild guess mr. John. I swear, if this doesn't stop soon, I'm gonna kill all of them. " I said.

"Was it the same group?" Mr. John asked, while setting the multiple medicines down on the table beside me.

"Of course it was. Who else has hatred for the whole world for no damn reason?" Mr. John shook his head and came to stand next to us.

My friend stiffened at the sight of Mr. John.

"Oh, don't worry sonny. I wont hurt ya. I'm only gonna help ya. My name is Karl Johnson." He held out his hand. My friend looked at him, then me, then mr. Johns hand. Finally he took it and shook.

"Mark Layton." I looked down to the white cloth in my hand. It was stained with red. "It's red." I mumbled and scoffed.

"Pardon?" Mr. John asked.

"His blood is red. And they're afraid of his skin. Ridiculous." I said. I always wondered if there was more reasoning to the hatred people had towards colored folk. When I was younger the only reasoning I could think of was that they had a different color of blood.

I grabbed the alcohol and poured it on a swab, and began to clean a cut on marks cheek. He jumped and hissed at the touch.

"Sorry."

"What do you mean?" Mark asked me. "About my blood, I mean."

"I just don't understand why people are so crewl. You're no alien. You have the same colored blood, the same insides. We're all the same. The outside just changed."

Mr. Johnson slightly chuckled beside me. "She's always been so passionate about equality. Now let me get a closer look at ya. What hurts?"

Mark pointed out the places that hurt while I continued to clean his cuts. In the end, we made him keep the stake on his now fully swollen eye, and bandaged his scrapes on his knee and arms.

"You're lucky I saw it in time, they've done- worse to others unfortunately." I told him.

"Thank you." He said to me. "I should probably get home soon, my momma is going to be worried."

"Well, do yall have a phone we could call? Just to let her know you're safe. And I'll walk ya home." I offered. Mark looked a little weirded out. It's not everyday does a girl offer to walk a guy home. Let alone a white girl walk a black boy home.

Finally, he gave the number to call, and I had mr. Johnson call his momma for us. Of course she was a bit confused, but we told her her son would be home soon.

After thanking Mr. John again, we walked toward the suburbs of town.