The Richardsons

Video #14

"Sometimes, you will be stuck in murky waters or in an unfamiliar world at times. Things like those take time to get used to, Ana don't be mad at yourself when you can't get used to something. Heck, it took me about 2 years to get used to public school from a private boarding school."

It is now Tuesday, and Detroit and I are walking in the halls to History class. I meet Detroit at his class and I take him to his classes just in case he doesn't get lost. Also, the buddy system is very effective, yes I still believe in the buddy system.

I see Beatrice and Bernardo walking past us and Bernardo uses his feminine style walk to force Detroit to hit the lockers.

"Ow!"

"Hey Katherine! Do you have a boyfriend yet? Oh no, you look like you live in a dumpster! Hah! Rotten pig!" Beatrice snickered away.

Detroit picks himself up and rubs his right shoulder.

"You ok?" He asks.

"Yeah, let's just go." I sigh.

The rest of the walk and history class was silent.

Once the beep for the end of history class rung, Detroit and I walked to the lunchroom. Once we started to approach, he suddenly stopped.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I ask him.

"Can we please just go around the school?"

"Well....."

There was something off about him.

"Sure." I reluctantly agree. I wanted him to meet my friends, but I guess we're going around the school instead. This time, he leads the way, and I follow.

We go outside into the back courtyard of the school, up an outdoor set of stairs, and to a private rooftop.

"What's wrong? Something's up." I shoot straight with my words.

"Can you keep a secret?" He whispers.

"What?"

"Can you keep a secret?" He says a little louder.

"Yeah." I feel a little suspicious.

Detroit sighs.

"Please don't ever repeat what I am about to say to you. It's nothing bad."

Normally, when people say that, it means that they did something bad. However, I keep my options open with people. Not everybody is a serial killer.

Detroit took out a notebook and a pencil.

He started sketching something and talking at the same time.

"What the people say about me being 'poor' and 'white trash' is true. I am a poor boy."

He started to draw a house and a stick figure family of three.

"When I was little, I thought that I lived a perfect life. My parents were together, I had a roof over my head. I thought I had it all."

He then drew a woman next to his dad and a man next to his mom.

"Turns out, my parents couldn't STAND each other and cheated on each other. And my house? The actual owners lived in a basement that I never even knew existed."

"I grew up in Detroit, and that's why I want to be called Detroit, that's where I'm actually from."

He drew the state of Michigan and put a star by Detroit.

"When I was ten, my parents divorced and got married to the people that they cheated with each other on. Neither of them wanted me anymore, so they threw me in foster care."

He put two x's over his mother and his father, leaving the step parents alone.

"It was only for three years, but within that time, the new spouses of my parents met, fell in love, and got married after they both divorced my parents. They decided to take me in as their child, and I thought "my life could finally be getting better!" But oh, was I wrong."

There was a drawing of a military hat and a bookstore.

"My step father is a military veteran, and my mother works at a bookstore. The problem? Neither was getting enough money for living the life with all of the basics. Not like I need to live with a heated seat car and a 400 powered jet tub, but it's very complicated to say."

"You can say it." I reassured him.

He was quiet for a moment.

"I live in Tyrone J. Paul Apartments."

I think for a moment. Tyrone J. Paul apartments, I hear that those are the cheapest made apartments in New Bedford. Only the poorest of the poor live there. Conditions are often sickly there and it's just one sad building. I can't imagine what it's like, peeling ceilings, unstable floors, rats, bugs, and possibly even more.

I sighed. What should I do? Should I tell him about my parents? Maybe so.

"Well, I can relate to you in some way. Or. Actually, I don't know..."

"You can say it." He silently said.

I held my grip onto the bench.

"My parents both had grown up in very tough houses. That's actually the reason why they met and fell in love. They had nothing and all they really had was each other."

"Really?"

I nodded.

"Things will change, and things will get better, you just have to wait." I look at Detroit.

He looks away.

"I've been waiting all of my life for something to happen, but everything always goes wrong. I believe that it's my fault. Really, believe me. It is, it always has been and always will. Why my life is always closed off and how my quality is poor and my views are sheltered. I'm just sick of waiting. All of these empty promises I've been promised. Eventually, I realized that I shouldn't wait for others and just suck it up and do things by myself. And that's why I never got close to anybody. Because I thought that they would ruin my chances of making a decent life for myself and all they would do is distract me. The thought and the rumors around me being a loner get to me from time to time, but it's kind of nice to open up to somebody besides my mirror. I don't know much about you and you don't know much about me. The feeling might be mutual."