C A T C H 22 |BWWM|

Ch. 23 • Shh, I Know Your Secret

Jackson, MS. December 1943
Tuesday, 11: 45 am

Deen

The lunchroom was noisy with hungry, obnoxious teens socializing with their friends. Everyone was talking with each other, enjoying the company, or eating and trading lunch items. As for me, I made my journey to the lunch line. Nobody was beside me—I walked solo. People still didn't quite agree with my decision to befriend people from Cedarwood. The only person they ever saw me talk to was Paislee and even then I built a target on my back.

"How are you?" I asked the lunch server. He and I were somewhat friends and his kindness to me was great. He smiled and nodded quickly.

"Good, Good boy."

He placed a small bowl of chocolate pudding onto my tray before ushering me forward in the line. He didn't like getting much attention or else the kids here would taunt him and I. They sometimes even threw food at him and called him all kinds of names. I didn't stand for it though—which resulted in me getting green beans flung at me.

I heard the boys behind me whisper quietly amongst themselves as they took short glances at me. It wasn't uncommon behavior but my interest peaked at what they were talking about. Probably about my new-found reputation. Ignoring them, I carried my tray with me as I made my way to an empty table.

"Deen?" The bite of cornbread didn't make it to my mouth as I paused momentarily. Grace—daughter of the world's most evil father—stood behind me. When I turned many people were eyeing us. "Hello?"

"What, Grace?" I turned and continued eating.

"Did I just get clutched? Hm. . . Anyway, we need to talk."

She slid her tray on the table in front of me and sat in the chair. Her glass of milk clinked with mine as she made herself comfortable. The icy blue in her eyes was set on mine.

"I don't want to talk about anything. Your father could've killed me; I could've pressed charges. Now you think I wanna' talk to you?"

"I apologize on his behalf and I never meant for it to get that far, but you know my daddy doesn't like for my feelings to be played with," she complained.

"No one ever"—I used my air quotes—"played with your feelings. I simply stated I didn't care for you in a romantic way."

Grace sighed and used her most innocent look. "Our parents used to be so close, but after your father visited mine it went downhill. Remember that time we came to dinner at your house? I want that back again. Our parents want that back again."

She did make a point. Our parents were close before Grace's father put his hands on me. Then again, I wasn't going to sacrifice my happiness for her father's.

"My father or mother doesn't want anything to do with y'all. Your father crossed the line. I'm not even his son so why does he feel the need to discipline me about 'staying on my side'? I get it, I'm different and I don't hate everyone that doesn't look like me. Geez." I huffed.

Grace sipped her milk and reached over to grab my wrist tightly. I looked at her crazily before snatching away my hand harshly. She shook her head and sighed.

"We should have a dinner to settle this all, Deen. We can clear the air and my dad can get his opinion out the way. You have our number."

My eyebrows furrowed as she stood tall. Flattening out her dress and grabbing her tray with two hands, she brushed past me, but before she left I grabbed her forearm. A pleased smile curling her lips.