Billie Jean [h.s]

Prologue

Daddy always said stay away from those white boys. They were no good and only wanted to hurt me.

'Daddy always knew best' mama would say, so I believed him. Besides, not even a black boy liked me and I was fine with that.

I wasn't a brick house like some of the girls, my older brother, Tony and his friends would talk about making sure mama wasn't in ears reach.

If mama heard that type of talk coming from his mouth she'd smack him across his head! Mama raised him to respect women and cherish them, not to degrade them or just talk of their appearances.

So, sometimes I'd give him a hard time teasing him and saying how I'll snitch, but he wasn't too bothered by it. He'd just scream, "Billie Jean, stop dippin in my cool-aid." and toss a pillow at my head.

After awhile I'd get tired of his childish abuse and run off to play outside or run a few errands for mama because she'd usually leave a list of chores to do when daddy and her go off to work.

Sometimes, I'd spend my day roller skating in our drive, so then when their was roller disco parties I wouldn't embarrass myself or break my bone trying to glide to The Bee Gees.

Well, sometimes my friends and I wouldn't bother going most times. We'd get stared down, eye rolls, whispers from one another, and sometimes rude comments about our melanin skin. I figured it's because they're not used to us yet, so I wouldn't pay them no mind, but daddy said I should.

They don't care about us, so why should you? I figured that was a good point, but then I think daddy's just being a spaz.

Even if one side of me thought he was a spaz, I still believed every word.

It made me angry that someone would hate me so much. I took it personally sometimes and mama always said not to, but really I think she took it personally too. From when I'd stay up hearing the two have a screaming match back and forth about the white folks degrading them like animals.

I'd repeated it to my brother the next morning, only for him to respond with,"Billie Jean stop dippin in their cool-aid" with a toss of the nearest item next to him.

My feelings towards white folks were mutual until I stumbled upon a boy the opposite of me. His curls draped his head, his strangely luminous green eyes watched my every move, his cherry pink lips moisten with every lick of the tongue, and his honey soaked voice graced my ears like a melody.

If I'd have known the year 1977 would be my year of rebellion I'd have probably stayed in the year before.

But I couldn't help, but feel groovy whenever he called me his sunshine....