I ran as fast as I could to those woods.
They were at the edge of the plantation, behind Masta’s house. It was dangerous to get there, but I had no other place to go. As son as I got into the deep forest, I delved right into a bush, and sobbed my whole heart out. I grabbed a small, fallen branch and started stabbin’ the ground with it.
Mama was right. My anger could soar until it was uncontrollable. In fact, I got so emotional, I lost my awareness of my surroundings, and when the voice asked me, “You okay?” I didn’t hear it. I didn’t. I just didn’t. I kept right on stabbin’. Right on stabbin’ ‘till a hand stopped me.
A hand tugged on the branch I held. It was strong. Strong enough to beat me, which was hard. It clenched the branch, and I could clearly hear a crack in it. It was a thin hand. A bit smaller than mine. And it was white.
Now I wanted to get zapped.
If it weren’t for another white hand covering my mouth, I would’ve screamed the life out of me. My heart nearly stopped. I closed my eyes, not wantin’ to see my captor. I heard a soft laugh, and my eyes flew open. “Who are you and whattaya want?” I snapped, not even thinkin’ about what I was sayin’. My voice was muffled by the hand, and I felt downright stupid—me tryin’ to act tough an’ all, but got captured already.
A young, white face with the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen appeared. The boy had a huge grin on his face. “It don’t matter. You ain’t s’pposed to be in these woods, are you?” he said curiously, now liftin’ his hand off m’ face.
All of a sudden, I realized who he was. Masta’s son. My eyes widened. He knew I wasn’t supposed to be here. I was supposed to be either working. In the field. On the plantations. Or at the shed. Taking a nap…or something. Anythin’ but here.
But ‘fore I could answer him, he patted my shoulder and assured me, “I promise I’m not gonna tell Dad.” I narrowed my eyes. I could never trust them whites. They could tell you this an’ turn around and do the worst thing possible. I wanted to trust him. But I knew it would be wrong to…
“Why should I trust you?” I asked, cautiously, instead of runnin’ back to the shed.
“I’m not like Dad.” he tld me firmly, and I could tell he felt a bit annoyed—maybe even offended too—that I wouldn’t trust him. I felt a bit guilty for cornerin’ him an’ all, but it was quite amusin’ to see him angry for somethin’ like that.
I smirked slightly an’ said, “I ain’t s’pposed to be here, but I want to. So, you go best and leave me alone.”
“Why you cryin’?” he interrogated, completely oblivious to the fact that I jus’ tol’ him to go.
“None o’ your business.” I shot back, a bit harsher than I meant. He flinched, I could see it.
S’ddenly, I heard some real loud hollerin’ and I jumped up. Then I sat real quick back on the ground. I wanted to see who was there, bu’ if whoever was there saw me, I’d be in big trouble. The kind of trouble Jane meant when she was scoldin’ Jackson.
“Ah, Dad’s home…” he muttered, shakin’ his head.
“You gon’ go and greet him or what?” I said, trying to get him away. It was bad enough I was in here, and then talkin’ to a white? I might as well be whipped to death!
“’Course!” the boy replied, with fake happiness. I raised a brow, my eyes promptin’ him to go.
When he finally caught the sign, he hopped up. “You want me to go.” He realized, a bit disappointed and surprised at the same time. I glanced at the ground, not answerin’.
“Well, if you need me, m’ name’s Dennis.” he told me.
What in the world was wrong with this kid? Did he think I was allowed to get into some white’s house? ‘Specially Masta’s house just to see his son? Why he must think I’m crazy! I thought. But I didn’t say that to him. Just smiled. That’s all. Smiled and nodded m’ head.
