The White Fence

8. Racing Thoughts

"Do you think I act like I'm better than everyone else?" I questioned.  

Patrice seemed thrown off by the question. "No," she answered immediately, but then really considered the question. "But that's only cause I know you. Someone who don' know you so well probably'd say yes." 

"Why?" I wondered earnestly. 

She actually took a minute to think about it. "Well, you can come off kinda...superior sometimes," she said, honestly, "but that's because you're confident. Like in Biology, you're good at it, so you're confident that when Colben asks a question, you'll know tha answuh. So, when he calls on you, you don' mumble tha answuh like most uh us do, and you sound confident in your response. That might make it seem that you think you're better'n everyone else, when really it's just confidence. You get what I mean?" I could understand what she was saying, even though I didn't like the thought of people thinking that I thought I was better than them; especially since I spent so much time wondering if I was as good as they were. "You different girl," she declared, digging her elbow into my side, trying to change the look of concentration on my face. "You still sound like a Yank," she smiled, "and you on't dress like everyone else-," 

"Only because my mom can't afford the latest fashions, and what not," I interjected.  

"-and you carry yourself differently, too." 

"So do you." 

"And you know people think I'm fulla myself. But it's different for me cause I relate ta folks. I tawk like dem," she said, emphasizing her southern accent in contrast to my lack of one. "I hang around them. I'm one uh them, and always will be. You, it's like you know you're different, and you don' even have tha decency ta feel 'shamed 'bout it. You have that whole temporary air about ya, too; like you're only here for a while. And you're pretty, so people get weird about you, and then they turn it 'gainst you, like you're stand-offish 'gainst them, cause folks don' know what ta do wit you. What brings this up?" 

"Derek." A familiar grin grew across her face at those words, and I was beginning to think she had something for him. "What's the grin for?" I wondered. She shook her head, still smiling.  

Frankie was waiting outside my house when I left Patrice's. "So what'd she say," he questioned eagerly. I'd forgotten all about Cecilia until I saw him standing there. He was actually bouncing on his feet, waiting for my answer. "Did you give it to her, yet?" 

I opened the door, and he followed me inside. "I gave it to her," I responded. 

We went into the kitchen. "Well, what'd she say?" he prompted.  

"Nothing." 

He frowned. "What do you mean nothing?" he wondered, staring at me, looking for any clue. I didn't have any to offer.  

"She didn't say anything," I reiterated. "She just took the note." 

He frowned, his eyes traveling. "That's it?" 

"Yes." 

"Well...w-what'd she say when you told her it was from me?" he questioned. "What'd you say, and what'd she say back to you. I mean everything?" 

"I said that Frankie wanted me to give this to you, and she was like Frankie who, and I was like 'Frankie Banks'." 

"That's it?" he demanded, deflating.  

"That's it," I responded. 

"Hum." He collapsed onto the kitchen chair. "Should I write her another note?" he wondered, aloud.  

"Why waste your time?" 

"It wouldn't be a waste of time. The Founder's celebration is in a month."