Juke Jam

Chapter Four

It was the end of the school day and Charlie wanted nothing more than to go home to cool it. It had been a long day; everyone was so worked up on the colored kids coming to school that they never got any actual work done. Charlie could tell that even some of his teachers were on edge about the colored kids coming to school. He thought he heard someone say that a few teachers resigned, but he couldn't believe every rumor he heard.

There were separate hounds for colored people and white people, so Charlie knew for a fact a colored person wasn't riding the same hound as him. The colored people were made to ride the public hound. Charlie stepped onto his bus and took a seat in the middle. He started to gaze out the window and then he spotted Gladys walking towards the public hound. His eyes were trained on her lean figure, as she walked with her head down. There were still protesters outside the school—they'd been there all day. They were screaming profanities at her and spitting at her, while she just took it because she couldn't do anything about it.

Then, he saw Peter walking behind her with a sly look in his eye. He had no idea what Peter was about to do, but he honestly felt sorry for the poor girl. It seemed like she just couldn't get enough for one day. Then again, what else did she expect? Of course, she was going to be given a hard time today because no one wanted her here, along with the other colored students.

Peter harshly smacked Gladys' ass and gave it a rough squeeze. He whispered something into her ear and she looked horrified. Charlie felt terribly sorry for the girl, but he wasn't going to go help her. Not in front of all those angry white people. That would be a huge mistake. He wasn't going to help her at all because he was white and she was black, and helping each other was something they did not do. He was being a hypocrite because earlier on he thought to himself that he was now aware of the issue.

Charlie watched as Gladys scurried off to the hound, with watery eyes. Peter laughed to himself and walked a cocky stride to the hound he was supposed to get on. Sometimes Charlie honestly could not put up with his best friend. Peter could be an asshole when he wanted to, but that was nothing new. Charlie was agitated when Peter decided to sit down next to him.

"What's the matter?" Peter cocked his head to the side, scrunching his nose up in disgust.

"Why do you go around groping girls? What's the fun in that?" Charlie shook his head in disapproval.

"You're just a wet rag." Peter rolled his eyes. "That nigger ain't important to me. I already told you. I just want her to put out for me."

"And you're raunchy." Charlie narrowed his eyes.

Show some respect, he wanted to say, but he thought against it. It would probably seem odd to his best friend that he was sort of defending a colored girl. He didn't even know if that was what he was doing.

"Ha ha ha, very funny." Peter clasped Charlie's shoulder. "What are you doin' after school?"

"I'm tired. I'm going home." Charlie shrugged Peter's hand off of him.

"I'm going to the passion pit." Peter smirked.

"On a school night? Really, Peter?"

"Well, yeah, Sherri invited me. And a couple of her lady friends. Sherri's a fox." Peter smiled from ear to ear.

"You need help." Charlie shook his head.

"And you need to plug a chick. Maybe you'll get that stick out your wazoo, then." Peter pointed accusingly at his best friend.

"I don't have a stick up my wazoo." Charlie glared at him.

"Yes, you do."

"I do not."

"When are you gonna lose your virginity, man?"

"When I'm in love, man." Charlie rolled his eyes.

Unlike Peter, who was promiscuous, Charlie believed in waiting for the right chick to lose his virginity to. He didn't have girls lined up to put out for him, like Peter. Charlie had no clue what to do or how to do it, so he was perfectly fine with waiting. Good things came to those who waited, so maybe when the time did come he would be prepared. 

"I can't believe my best buddy are one of those guys." Peter snickered.

"Believe it."

Charlie and Peter didn't exchange any words after that. Peter could tell that Charlie was upset with him, so he wasn't going to bug him anymore. Charlie was about five seconds from giving him a knuckle sandwich, so he thought he would just be quiet the rest of the ride home. It didn't take long to get home anyway.

Charlie sluggishly walked up the porch steps and opened the front door. Martha was always home, so the front door was always open. Charlie got home first because high school students got out at an earlier time than the elementary and junior high kids. Annabelle would get home in about twenty minutes; she would complain about how much homework she had as she walked through the door—because that's what she always did.

Charlie's family was pretty predictable and functional. The same thing happened everyday and nothing was different. They all had certain roles to play within the house; Charlie's role was to play the overprotective big brother who was also supposed to be a good role model. Annabelle's role was to be the bratty little sister and daughter  that everyone seemed to love. Hal was the moneymaker and Martha was the homemaker and the one who bonded them all together. They were the typical middle class family.

"Hi, honey! Wanna clue me in on school?" Martha appeared in the living room, with an apron on. She took no time in cutting to the point.

"School was school." Charlie shrugged his shoulders. He really just wanted to go to his bedroom and go to sleep.

"Charleston, boy don't you sass me." She narrowed her eyes.

"There were people outside the school throwing things and yelling things at the niggers. In the hallways, niggers were on one side and white people were on the other. Not that many white people came to school today anyway. That's pretty much it." He explained to her.

"None of them niggers gave you trouble?" She raised her eyebrows.

"No, ma'am." He sighed, shaking his head.

"Oh well, okay. You seem tired, so I'm gonna let you rest before dinner." She nodded her head and walked into the kitchen.

•••

Slang from the 1950's:

•cool it - relax/settle down
•wet rag - someone who's just no fun
•raunchy - messy or gross in some way
•passion pit - drive-in movie theater
•fox - fine woman with desirable looks
•wazoo - rear end