The White Fence

3. Room # 2

Patrice was up way too early the next morning. Since she took longer to get dressed, I gave her the first shower, but even with that head start, I was dressed before she was. While she stood in the bathroom, hovering over her curling irons until they got hot enough to curl her hair with, I brushed the stray strands of my hair back into the French braid my mom had done the day before, and was dressed in a matter of minutes.  

"What's wrong with the outfit you picked out last night?" I wondered. 

"Didn' fit right," she said dismissively. "I'll on'y be a minute."  

Patrice's minutes could turn into hours. I headed downstairs to wait for her. Marcus was up, too, and in the kitchen cooking. As he treaded back and forth over the orange linoleum of their kitchen floor, tossing pots around as if he did this often, I stood there a moment to watch. If you asked me, Marcus was the best looking of the three Gordon boys. He was the tallest, darker in skin tone, had a broad nose, thick lips, and these really rich, cocoa brown eyes. At the moment, he was still in his pajamas and robe, his hair kind of bunched up on one side in that 'just up woke up' look. Marcus' hair was in the process of recovering from his attempt at an Otis Williams hair style...which he thankfully'd given up a few weeks ago.  

He nodded at the space across the counter. "Mornin'," he declared. 

"Morning." I sat down in front of him. "When did you start cooking?" 

"Gotta be up for work anyway, might as well let mama sleep in." He looked at me over the counter, a smile teasing his lips. "You excited?" he wondered. 

"About?" 

"Your first day of high school! Big day today!" 

Mostly I was nervous. All night long I'd kept seeing those indistinct faces from the crowd, their eyes filled with hate as they yelled at us, eager to see part of our lives destroyed. Them, or some of their kids, friends, neighbors, would possibly be in the same classes that I was. Not everyone is like that, I kept reminding myself, but I couldn't imagine going through what Marcus had gone through. I fidgeted just thinking about it. The only thing that kept me from begging my mom not to let me go to Groverton High was the knowledge that I'd get a better education at Mason, and I needed the best education I could get if I wanted to make it to Harvard.  

"I'd be more excited if I were you," I stated.  

"Oh, and why is that?" he wondered. 

"You start college in a few weeks!" I reminded him.  

"Yea, but I still have to take the trash out when the parents want me to, I still have a curfew, and I still have to do chores. It's hard to get excited 'bout that." 

"But in a few years you'll have a degree. Think about what you'll be able to do once you graduate!" 

"For now, how bout I just think about what I can do while I'm doing it? Listen, young'n. If you spend your life looking for what happens afterwards, you're going to miss out on the transition." 

"Maybe," I allowed, "but if you have no foresight, you spend a lot of time looking back through hindsight." 

Marcus laughed, mussing my hair. Unlike Patrice, I didn't care. "You're an old soul, Tracy. Just try'n have a little fun. Tell me that you at least have small butterflies." 

Reluctantly I grinned. "Alright, I'm a little excited," I admitted.  

The front door opened, and the middle of the Gordon boys, Sean, strutted in. I think the only way Sean knew how to walk was a strut. He was a pretty boy, who couldn't seem to keep himself out of trouble. He was the shortest and stoutest of the Gordon boys, and most thought that he was the most attractive. He, like Patrice, was a light brown color, with reddish undertones, had brown eyes, broad shoulders, and a derriere that filled out a pair of Wranglers nicely. He drove around in a caramel '55 'Vette that his uncle helped him buy and fix up, and no matter the time of year, he always wore a leather jacket. Like Mr. Gordon, he'd dropped out of school his junior year to go work at the Mill, and that's where he still was. The Mill was considered one of the better laborer jobs around, and I'm willing to bet that the only part of it that Sean didn't like was the navy blue coveralls that the Mill workers wore.