When I hear the sound of a siren in the school my heart rate quickens immediately my belly begins aching me as I start to think unnecessary things like ‘what if they take me, what If they man-handle me?’ I look around noticing pairs of eyes focusing on me, the teacher stops teaching, I watch him as His hand stops its quizzical movements against the board. Then there are footsteps and cheers around the school block like I am back in a movie, in a movie where I am the sole target. I watch in regret as two hefty police officers walk towards me and begin to manhandle me. Their badges proudly pointed in my face.
It looked as though they were happy to do what they did, I am left with no option but to follow the two hefty men in police uniform As they drag me out of the school's main entrance, I let my eyes wander throughout the school, only for me to feel something light being thrown at me, I wait, trying to decipher whatever that was, but I am not allowed to recover as I feel another thing as light as the former against my skin, then another and then another, it is only after a few more throws I am able to know that it is paper the police men leave me to my fate as they let go of both my arms my weak body falls to the hard floor, on the floor while still wheezing in pain I see students around me throwing pieces of paper at me.
Their hands seem to wish me all gone. And the pieces of papers seem to tell me how unwanted I am. I look up at the school banner and see it in bold letters.
“All blacks must be eradicated” my picture made visible by the left side of the poster, as I look to the side I see a maniac-looking November rushing toward me with a pointed pen in hand “die!” she screams, her footsteps get so loud I try to cover my ears as the noise gets more disturbing. she gets closer to me her hand goes higher up in the air I watch in slow motion as her hands direct the beautiful pen toward my neck, I immediately feel the impact of something sharp against my neck November really did pierce my neck, I hold my neck in pain as I feel the blood pouring and watch in horror as the whole school begins rushing out in mass each with a pen in hand shouting “My turn” I could feel the tearing of my flesh even as I slip into unending darkness. But amid the darkness, I hear screams and I feel myself shivering. I feel a sting on my cheek, just then my eyes open and I come back to life only to be welcomed by my mother’s raised hand, Like she was about to drop on my cheek another slap.
I feel tears prick my eyes, and I let them fall freely.
“I want out ma” I scream. I want out.
My whole life has been filled with lots of suppressed anger from people I don’t even know, and accusations from people I don’t want to know about. How did I even end up getting a court invite? Just when I think the pain is only emanating from me,
I hear mom’s cry. Although her cry disturbs me I just can’t seem to stop crying. Mama stands up, knowing that she can’t do anything. She leaves my room, only for her to come back a few minutes later.
I look at my mom as she seems to be hiding something, her smile seems forced, and I could tell she’s done a little crying behind the scenes, her sniffles confirm what I just said.
“I think this is a good time to paint, and let it dry, so you’ll see how bad it’ll turn out” I nod my head, letting mom know how grateful I am for her simple act of love.
But my mind keeps on replaying the events. I am angry, sad and so heartbroken. But all in all, I am more messed up. My mom throws the small canvas she says she bought on Saturday on top of my bed.
“You can draw too,” mom says.
She walks toward me and places a kiss on top of my forehead and with her eyes still unsure she wishes me goodnight and walks out the door.
I stare hard at the board and let it stay lifeless beside me, I check my drawer for a pencil, when I see one I take it and begin to draw.
**
Alexander Bowe stands in front of the class with a broad smile plastered on his face. “As you all know this is a very important painting class. And the very first thing I would like you to do is to get your pen name, and I will love it if you all pair yourselves”.
There were a lot of strange yells everywhere. The seat on my row was left scanty, as students scurried off in different directions leaving desks empty; more people are paired as a result of this more empty desks are left and more pairing gained.
“It’s for an assignment. And that assignment is going to be in form of a competition and the winner will get a beautiful gift from the fine arts desk”
He looks at the empty desks. And then smiles. His smile is directed to the whole class.
He drops his book on top of his desk and then says; “Before you dive into a quarrel it is most beneficial to know the cause. Don’t just argue because you seem to like it” the whole class laughs knowing the persons he was referring to, the two girls at the back who began exchanging words immediately they came across each other, clearing his throat Mr. Alexander says “There is nothing more I have to say to you so I will take my leave. You’ll be submitting the assignment in the next class we will have or maybe not.”
**
With a small brush in hand, I begin drawing a circle. I try so hard to get a face, but the disappointment I get every time I press on is so evident. So I take a pause letting my mind wander around my space.
My dad’s painting hangs on the wall, it looks so beautiful against the wall, which reminds me of what I heard in one of the art classes “Paintings are sold in the open space, while our studios are just like secret rooms.”
A few of my paintings have gone to various homes having found new owners. And the smile that comes on my face each time the customers come back looking for more of my work is something I don’t think I will ever get used to. Although I don’t sell them myself because I know there will be a form of hesitance to buying something I made.
My mind is all jumbled up, and my head can’t seem to process anything and I want to paint but I keep holding myself back, I keep thinking of dad and how he died, I keep thinking of how students seem to think it is okay to bully, my hand is still hanging mid-air. On pause, somewhere in the back of my mind I know that i may not be able to paint anything today, but I persist anyways.
After a while of waiting and sighing, and then going back to placing my hand on the canvas again, I decide to leave painting for another day.
On my way to my apartment, the same thing repeats itself. I hear footsteps, walking so fast behind me. I walk faster my breath coming out in small sessions making me breathe harder. But the footsteps I hear become ever louder, and this time around I know the stranger won’t like to follow me back upstairs. So I aim for the stairs.
Unfortunately for my lack of sense a hand pulls me closer to them and with force the hand tightly grips my waist. A sharp yell erupts out of my mouth, as the new presence forcefully kisses me. His breath smells like fresh mint, and grape, an odd combination, I know.
But what surprises me the most is the fact that I cave in eventually in the process. And just when I begin enjoying the kiss he retreats.
“I would be more careful if I were you” the hooded figure says as he slowly reveals himself I open my eyes and stare back at a very distressed looking Donald.
“Why did you kiss me?” my voice comes out weak and I start to scrub whatever is left of the kiss away from my lips feeling humiliated, and from the smug smile on his lips he knows I enjoyed that kiss. ‘shame on me’ I think to myself.
“To scare them off” he answers and walks back to whichever dark corner he came out from.
I look back only to find that I am the only one on the stairs right now. My heart pounds in my chest and my legs begin to move me faster than anything.
YOU ARE READING
HIS BROWN SKIN GIRL| (EDITED VERSION)✔
Romance"His dislike became his obsession" Set in a time and place where being black became a stigma. Katherine Mendel found herself in a dead category of brown skinned. Katherine's father was said to have committed suicide. But a murder planned wrong broug...
