where's my mind / poetry, oneshots etc.

basically a 'lies we tell ourselves' spin off / dear evan hansen

it took me too long to think of a title for this jfc

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tw: racial slurs, mild homophobia

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alana kept her head down, clutching her textbook tightly.

she tried to block out the jeers and the sneers and the spitting and how the crowd of white people parted like the red sea as she walked past them, staring at her specially cleaned blue flats.

she was so close to the lunch hall, only a few more paces to go—

and then she was on the floor.

she squinted in the harsh light, her glasses having been knocked off in the shove. what seemed like millions of white boys and white girls were standing above her, laughing and spraying insults like venom.

then one, clear voice rang out among the chaos.

"leave her alone."

she couldn't see who has spoken in her blurred and unfocused vision, but there was more snickering.

"aw, the space boy's a n***** lover!" someone cackled, making alana flinch.

"leave her alone." the boy said again.

he approached alana, holding out a bony hand. "i'm connor."

she twisted her face up to try to see his face, but all she could make out was long, brown hair.

"uh, glasses–" she stammered.

connor picked them up off the floor and winced. "the, uh– glass is smashed?"

alana laughed nervously. "th-they were already l-like that."

"oh, er– there you go, then."

alana took them gratefully and smiled at the boy in front of her. there was still a crowd of white people bustling around them, breath bated.

"thank you." she took her textbook from the floor, hands sweaty, and walked into the lunch hall, connor following her.

"d'you want to sit with my friends?" he asked.

alana blinked. "what?"

"do you want to sit with us?"

alana eyed him. "sorry– i don't know if you've noticed, but i'm– i'm black?"

connor shrugged. "so? it's not like i have a reputation here or anything. i'm just the 'space boy'."

"what is a– a space boy? if you don't mind me asking."

remember your place, alana.

"it means i'm gay." his cheeks turned pink.

alana stumbled, taking a few steps backwards. "you're– you're gay?" she hissed, almost curiously.

god, she had had those thoughts but they were wrong, so wrong–

"i know what it's like to be bullied and hated and– and called names." connor bit his lip. "i just– i'm sorry, i never–"

"i'd like to sit with you."

***

"so, this is my sister, zoe, and this is evan, and that's jared," he smiled as he introduced the latter. "everyone, this is alana."

she sat rigidly next to connor, an awkward smile on her lips.

god, what was she going to say to her parents? that she made friends with a gay white boy?

"i really like your dress, alana," said zoe.

was homosexuality infectious? surely a girl couldn't find another girl that pretty. she thought she had gotten rid of those thoughts. maybe gays had some sort of enchantment powers—

"thank you." she blushed. "i like yours."

"how does it feel being the first– coloured person to come here?" zoe asked, green eyes wide.

"uh, terrifying." alana chuckled bitterly.

she noticed how everyone walking passed went out of their way to not walk by their table.

"you're really brave being here." zoe said solemnly. "i heard people talking about what they'd do to... to coloured people when they integrate and–" she shuddered. "i don't see why you being darker-skinned is such a big problem."

alana tried her best not to cry. "thank you, zoe."

"wait, lemme see your time table. we might have lessons together– we do! maths, french, typing— wait, why are you in the bottom sets? you look– clever."

alana shook her head. "i don't know. i was top set at my last school."

but she does know, really. because she black. so she'll automatically be less smart. she was just a stupid, dirty negro.

zoe must've read her mind, as she said "oh." quietly.

alana couldn't stop staring at her. a beautiful mane of blonde hair; those lush green eyes; freckles that had been splattered across her face like paint.

breathtaking.

and alana couldn't help but wonder,

how could something wrong feel so right?

•

yikes so i'm a 13 year old white english gal so i don't really know much about racism in america a lot of this is based on tHE BEST book i've ever read called lies we tell ourselves by robin talley please check it out it's breathtaking

ofc if anyone is offended by this for whatever reason i'll take it down!!

stay safe
-jem ✨