We arranged all the food in the kitchen. Then, Mama started to make my favorite dinner: chicken alfredo, mashed potatoes, fried chicken and greens. Mm.Mm.Mm. Ain't nothin' like craving something then eating it the next minute. My tummy was so full afterwards. I asked if I go take a walk. Mama was about to say something but Dad put a hand on her shoulder and said to me, "Just be careful, Mira." I nodded my head then went upstairs to change. It was a little chilly and this is what I chose to wear: white long sleeve shirt and t-shirt with some high waisted jeans and a pair of white high tops. I took a deep breath. I decided that I would take walks once in a while in order to know my way around. The air smelled fruity and ripe. I started to walk East. That was where the wind was taking me. I started to think about what my life would be like now. Would I have to stay inside more? Making friends wasn't going to be easy of course. Then again it never was. Even in the North, my race was noticed.
~flashback to 1st grade~
I was so excited because it was my first day. I looked around and embraced my new classroom and classmates. We were seated in partners, alphabetical order. The little boy seated next to me kept glancing at me. I looked back and introduced myself. "I'm Mira Washington! What's your name?" The boy kept looking at me sideways and asked, "Are you black or white?" I looked back at him with no response. That's a good question. If Dad is white and Mama is black, which one am I? I eventually came up with an answer. "I'm both." I stated happily. The little boy laughed and said, "You can't be both!"
~end of flashback~
When I think about it now, I can let it go. I was lighter shade when I was younger. I did look white but I didn't really understand what race I was. I didn't fully understand that I was mixed until I came home after that day and asked my parents. I was more advanced than the other kids so I perfectly understood. I was sort of excited when I found it. Wow. I, Mira Washington, was not one but two races.
It was strange. I heard no birds or houses creaking or even the wind blowing anymore. It was so quiet...maybe too quiet. Something sinister was up and I am bound to find out what it is. I turned the corner but backed up when I saw something bad. Three white boys were beating up this other white boy to a pulp. Confusion struck me at the core. Why were they beating him up? What could he have possibly done? They were shouting insults at him like "nigger-lover" and "faggot". The white boy didn't bother fending for himself either. He laid there, helpless, and looked off to a distance. What was he thinking about? It didn't matter, I had to help him. As I was about to approach, I saw that an officer car was passing by. I hid behind a couple of bushes near by. The officer pulled down his window and said to the boys, "Don't y'all have anything better to do?! Why are y'all hurting him? Son, are you okay?" The boys stopped and smirked. The brown haired blue eyed one said, "But he's a nigger-lover." The officer looked at the boy on the ground then back at the boys. He cleared his throat, smiled and said, "Well in that case boys, finish the job." He tipped his hat and drove off. My mouth gaped. I was shocked. So much for good officers who were supposed to protect and help the community. Many morals flew out the window. The officer turned and looked in my direction. I quickly ducked. After I heard the car go away, I took a peek. The boys were still beating him up. I know I should've said anything, but I couldn't help it. "HEY!" I yelled. The boys turned stopped then turned to look around until they spotted me. "What's it to ya nigger girl?" The brown haired one asked me. I walked towards them. I stood about five feet from them. I pointed to the boy on the ground and said, "Leave him alone." The boys all looked at each other and started to come towards me. "Well, aint this nigga bold, Tommy." The brown haired boy said to the blond haired one. One of them tried to punch me but I dodged it and told them to stop if they didn't want to get hurt. Dad trained me himself. He taught me how to fight way before we moved here. He said, "When peaceful and verbal tactics don't work, violence and force come into play." This was one of those times. The boys just laughed and ignored my warning. One of them spit on my shoe. I ignored that and tried to go help the white boy on the ground. The brown haired boy pushed me to the ground and said, "Stop actin bold and go back to which ya came froms, nigga." At that moment, I almost snapped. The boys smiled and started to surround the boy and I. This was NOT happening. I immediately got back up and kicked him in the balls. He went down to the ground hard, looked at the other boys, and said, "Quit standing there. GET HER!!" I dodged every punch and kick they threw at me. I kicked one boy a few feet away. I swiped the last boys feet and he hit the ground face first into the sidewalk. All three of the boys got up and ran away. "This isn't over nigger-girl!" I rolled my eyes. I bet I'll be seeing them again. I started walking towards the boy on the ground. I took a pause then looked closely. He looked familiar. I was shocked when I realized who it was.