C A T C H 22 |BWWM|

Ch. 1 • Oh Tommy boy!

Jackson, MS. September 1943
Friday, 3:36 pm

Paislee

"You'll be just fine Beverly, now stop shakin' like you got ants in your pants." I grabbed ahold of her hand and proceeded down the hallway of our school. The plethora of girls filled the small space quickly as the final bell had just rung. Beverly, my best friend—bestest if that was a word—drug behind me as we weaved in and out of the girls.

"Hey, Bev!"

"What's shakin' Beverly?"

"Bev! There's a bash tomorrow–"

I tugged her hand one last time in order to get her attention back on walking. I wasn't much of a cool-head as Beverly, but that didn't mean I couldn't be her friend. I had got accustomed to the constant whistles or catcalls from grown men walking down the street and being ignored by her other friends. I personally found it disturbing, but hey, it was Beverly Goodman for God's sake. Everyone knew the chick.

"C'mon Bev! We gotta beat feet now 'cause we're late. I'm more excited for this date than you are," I whined, slouching my school bag on my shoulder. She nodded quickly and brushed her curly hair out her face, revealing her hazel eyes and freckles.

"Okay, okay. Cool it would ya?" I sighed and nodded. I was a little cranked, more than her definitely. It was a date after all and I wanted my friend to have a great time. "Let's go now before the kids beat us to it."

We walked out the doors of our school, another crowd of girls was faced before us. All of them colored of course. Cedarwood Academy for Colored Girls. This was the school that most girls went to in our county. If you had a little more bread in your house then you could afford to send your girl here and that's exactly what they did. It decreased the chances of getting roughed up by the Whites, though the school was right across the street from a whites-only school, Lenin Jr. High school

After finally getting through all the girls Bev and I headed for our bikes. Neither of us—being seniors in high school—had our own cars.

"See you got here before us. Better be glad, count your blessings." I turned with wide eyes to see one of the students from Lenin High. He loved to mess with Beverly and I. Stealing our bikes some days or just simply getting him and his friends to gang up on us. They never seemed to go as hard on Bev as they did me. Calling me all kinds of names that they could think of. I had learned to hate them. "Go on home now negroes." He walked off mumbling his sentence.

Beverly looked livid as if she could punch the guy square in the nose. I shook my head and placed my face in my palms. I needed to get a grip on my breathing.

"You pig–"

"–Bev it's not worth it. You know what they would do with us. Let's just go home and calm down, 'kay?" She nodded but I could still sense the anger fuming in her face.

I hopped onto my bike—which was a rusted, pastel yellow color with a wicker basket, and began to ride. Beverly did the same following behind me down the sidewalk. I let out a relieving breath since we barely escaped the boys.

"My pad or yours?" Bev asked while we stopped at a crosswalk. I thought about it for a second and shrugged my shoulders. It didn't matter really.

"Doesn't matter really. . .you brought your clothes in your bag but it'll just be easy if you're at home. In case you forgot somethin' like rouge or lipstick." Bev nodded and we continued our way to her house.

° ° °
Beverly and I both sat on her bed as I did her hair. Music was playing from her radio quietly and we both hummed to the sounds. I brushed her curly hair into a bun using a bit of grease and a brush. It didn't take much to do her hair because of its soft, loose texture. She had showered and picked out three dresses for her date. I continued working quietly on her hair, breaking out in song as a new song played from her radio that was sitting near the window.