HEIGHTS

one

I flickered through the magazine, with pictures full of black women, wearing different hair styles. "She looks like you." My mother mentioned, as she glanced at me. "You could become a model, promote this hair salon.."

"I told you I don't want to. I want to be a doctor!" I tried to keep my voice down. I watched her sight, while she cleaned the floor, covered in black hair. "Why is it a problem for you mom?"

"Leticia we had this discussion! Always acting like you're white. That's getting on my last nerves." She always thought I acted 'white' only because I used proper english, and wanted to study. "You got manipulated by all your whities.. always dreaming about becoming a doctor. Do I look like I have money, to pay college? Hell no, get you head out of ya ass." She spit. "Normal parents, want their children, to have a good future. They want their children to have an education-"

"You mean white parents. They all got money, I don't have money. I just don't want you to waste your time, for something like being a doctor. You should become a hairdresser, and work here in this salon, that's what I always wanted. My daughter, working with me in this mother fucking salon, and your daughter working with you in this mother fucking salon, and your grand children, working with your daughter in this mother fucking salon! This is a family thing!"

I took my bag, and left. I had enough of that. We always ended up in a fight, when it came to my future. She always said that she wasn't proud of my 'white' behaviour, but I didn't care. She only hurt my feelings.

***

My eyes shifted to my friend, who worked with me in a diner. "I think I need a break. You aren't talking that much, what's wrong?" I hesitated, before I spoke. "My mother and I had an argument again.." Jess pulled me towards her, "I'm so sorry, don't listen to what she says. I know you can make it, you are very intelligent, that's what makes her jealous. You have so many opportunities, and more chances in life than her." That was kind of true, but I hadn't had money for the collage. "I am trying to get money together, just to go to the E.C.A." I sighed, "And her problem is also, me being with white people, what does she expect, I live in a neighbourhood full of white people. I'm not racist like my family, I'm different am I?" Jess nodded, she always had an ear for me, that's what I really liked about her. "You know what? Why don't you and I go to the movies afterwards?", "I need to study for the test tomorrow.." I noticed that Jess' attention wasn't on me, "What the.." She whispered. My eyes wandered to a slender girl, who had her brown hair in a high ponytail.

"What is Clarissa Styles doing in this diner? I thought she'd only go in those rich restaurants."

"Me either." I gasped. Jess seemed intimidated, as Clarissa drew closer to us.

"Hi, welcome to-" She cut me off, "Oh, um, can your co worker do that, my parents don't want me to.. you know." She cleared her throat, and smiled to me. "Oh, okay."

After she took her order, she glanced at me. "I'm sorry about before, I don't hate you. It's just, my parents had a bad experience with black people. There was once a black plumber in our house, and he stole my mothers jewerly. Yeah, he took a big amount. His name was something West. He was lucky, my family didn't call the police." My eyes widened, as I realized, she was talking about my dad. He stole from her mother, he never told me! I remember, when he came home with alot of money, he claimed, he won it in a lottery, but he just sold the jewerly. I tried not to hint that I was his daughter, but I didn't need to, she noticed as she gazed at my name tag. "Oh, I assume he is your brother.." I nodded. "Father actually.. look, I'm so sorry about that." She flashed me another smile, and left. "Sick!" I heard Jess behind me, "Never thought your dad was capeble of-"

" Save it!" I spit, but realized, I was too harsh. "He is my dad, still. Leave him alone."

***

I didn't know, if I should tell my father, or if I should save it. Something in me wanted to let it out. I found my father, sitting on the couch, still wearing his working clothes. It was him.

"Sup precious?" He said, with a bag of chips in his hand, "Sup? Seriously? Okay dad, I know what you did. You stole from Mrs. Styles!" I yelled. His eyes scanned me, before he got up. "The hell are you talking about?"

"Her daughter, showed up in the diner, she told me! So don't lie to me dad." He shook his head, and parted his lips.

"Do I look like I shit money? I needed that cash"

"This doesn't make stealing right!"

"But stealing from white people isn't bad. They all have money.." I couldn't believe what he just said, "Why are you always siding with them white people?" I turned my back towards my dad, I went upstairs to my room. My parents were racist, they always tried to influence me. I always had white friends, I only had two black friends, in my entire life. My first boyfriend was also white, but my parents never knew. I had once a crush on a a black guy, but he wasn't really interested in me.

I jumped slightly, as my phone vibrated in my pocket. I looked at the screen, a massage from Jess.

Mr. and Mrs. Styles' son just recently got engaged, and I got offered to serve people there. I also asked if you could serve too and they said yes. Do you know how much we will get payed for that day? 600 Dollar each! Isn't that amazing???????

I had to read the text several times, to realize, what Jess just texted.

This litterally made my day! Ofcourse I want to!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I tossed my phone on my bed, and ran my fingers through my hair. I still couldn't believe what I just read. The money was still not enough to pay the college, if I'd put it together with my other saved money, I'd almost get one k.

I stepped in front of my mirror, and put my hair in a ponytail. What did upper classed people like? Should I straighten my hair? I didn't want anyone to look at me, when I came in with my wild curls. I hoped, that I was not the only black person in the party. My excitment dropped, when I remembered what Clarissa Styles told me. Her parents didn't like black people. Maybe I could proof them wrong. We could talk about stuff they like. I wanted to impress them, but I already knew it wasn't possible. I was the daughter of some one who stole from them.