Other Characters with little importance in the story:
Anastasia "Annie" Biira
I walk into the school, and pick my locker. Number 95, it says. I shove my stuff in and go outside to wait for buses. My friends, Robyn-Lydia and Marybeth walk over to me. We talk about our summers, and all that stuff. When Marybeth is telling about how she went to New York in August, Robyn Lydia pulls out a list. The list of classes. She begins to read them off. She starts at the top, the girls. "Kathleen, Me, Marybeth, Nancy Parker, Arabella James, Cassie LaRue, Dawn Lirrman, Adele McAntire, Marian Ravenwood, Jennifer Biira. Jennifer Biira? New kid. Keith Collins, Sean Bennet, Chris Middleton, Andy Yates, Michael Robinson, Stanley Kendall, Benjamin Elvir and Joshua Albertson." She finishes. "Jennifer Biira, I wonder what she's like." I say as the bell rings and we go into class. Robyn Lydia sits beside me, and Marybeth beside Robyn Lydia.
Another girl sits on my other side. She's African American, and I haven't seen her before.
Once everyone is seated, my teacher calls out. "I am your teacher. My name is Janelle Tashynski, but you hvae to call me Miss. Tashynski or Miss T. Now we will to roll call."
"Kathleen, Robyn-Lydia, Marybeth, Nancy, Arabella, Cassie, Dawn, Adele, Marian, Jennifer, Keith, Sean, Chris, Andy, Michael, Stanley, Benjamin, Joshua." We are all here. The new girl beside me responded to the name Jennifer.
We go into math, then we meet with more teachers for other things. At the end of the day, Jennifer goes to the locker next to mine. Locker 94. Robyn-Lydia and Marybeth have 96 and 97. Suddenly, Cassie LaRue Nancy Parker, Andy Yates, Chris Middleton and Sean Bennet walk by. Sean shoves Jennifer into her locker, giving her a bloody nose. They laugh and leave. I hand her a Kleenex, and she smiles and accepts it.
An older girl with a scratch on her arm walks up to Jennifer. "Hi Nicole." Jennifer says. They walk out the door, and leave.
The blood trickles down my face. I accepted the Kleenex from the girl, to not be rude. "Jennifer, what happened to your nose?" my sister Nicole asks. "A boy shoved me into my locker." I say as the blood trickles down my lips.
Nicole opens the door to my mother's restaurant. There's a bunch of people in there.
My mother's restaurant is a "colored restaurant" as some people label it. That means only African-Americans can dine there. No white people, I doubt they'd want to go in anyway. Segregation in my city of Montgomery, Alabama, is just cruel. It's cruel everywhere, but whenever I tell the story of Rosa Parks, my hero, to my younger sister and brother Anastasia and Lucian, I want to just, be like her. I won't risk being arrested, but I'll brak the rules. Drink out of the "white water fountain" instead of the "colored" one. Sit in the "white" section of the bus. Then again, I walk to school. Oh well.
My mother welcomes us, as she always does. She gives us our name tags, exactly like hers, but they say "Jennifer" and "Nicole" instead of "Amanda". I'm a waitress here, as well as Nicole. My mom's restaurant is a dive, but it's still okay, the food and service are amazing, everyone says. So amazing, no one ever complains about the decorations. Which aren't amazing.
I walk to a regular customer. "Hey Leslie, how are you?" I say. "I'm fine, how 'bout you?" Leslie asks. "Oh I'm fine. What can I get for you?" I smile. "Oh the usual." Leslie laughs. The usual is my mom's signature dish, a chocolate cake. It's wonderful.
When work is over, I go to pick up our dry cleaning. Some kids come up to me, the same that shoved me into my locker earlier. I also see the girl who's locker in next to mine, come out of a McDonald's with her friends.
Before I know it the kids have shoved me on the ground, and have walked away laughing. The girl and her friends walk over, and help me up. "Hey I'm Kathleen. This is Marybeth, and this is Robyn-Lydia." She says. Could I be making friends that are white? Who knows.
Robyn Lydia's POV
Kathleen just introduced me to a black girl. Not that I hate her, or the black girl. I look at my watch, 6:00 PM. Time for reflection. With my mother, Dyanna Jennings. she's really gone into this hippie and world peace stuff since my father died. Her room is decorated with all those peace signs and rainbows.
My room has one peace sign, and that's on a necklace my father gave me before he died.
When I get home, It's 6:30. My mother hates it when I'm not on time. "Robyn-Lydia Dyanne Jennings! You are late again!" She shreiks as her large caboose sits on the floral couch in my red, pink, yellow and blue living room. My room is the only normal room in this house.
For about an hour, me and my mother just sit. My mother stares at the television, and I stare at the picture on the table. It's of me, my dad and my mom. I pick it up, remembering that day.
I was 9 years old, and we were at the park. My father had me on his shoulders, and my mother was standing beside us. It was a really nice day. A few moths later, there was a car crash. We heard about it on the radio. The reporter said two men were found dead in flipped over car in Montgomery Alabama. The men were identified as Christian Lorun and Michael Jennings. Michael Jennings, my father.
At his funeral, it was raining. There were bunches of flowers on his grave. Every month, now, I go and replace them with his favourite flower, tiger lilies. My dad wanted to name me Lily, but my mom didn't want to name me that.
Now, it's just me and my mom.
"Mom I have a new friend. She's African American." I say, out of the blue. My mother drops the glass in her hand, and it shatters on the floor.
She mutters something under her breath. "What?" I ask
"I said go to your room Robyn-Lydia!" Then I remember. Mom hates African-Americans. She's all for peace, but she just hates them.
My sister walks in the house, just as mom finishes making supper. "Kathleen, you are late again." My mother scolds. It's the 3rd time she's been late this week. The 18th time this month.
"Keith! Get in here and help clean the table." My mother yells. I walk in.
I clean the table, and then we eat.
"So Kat, what's new?" My father asks.
"Oh, made an African-American friend." She says.
We all drop our forks at the same time. "Oh, well that's... nice." Mother says. She does not approve of us having African-American friends.
"Kathleen, you know I disapprove of you having friends that are, Ne--, Black." Mother hisses. "So what? I don't care what you think! Jennifer's my friend and you can do nothing about it!" Kathleen storms out of the room, and slams the door as she goes outside.
Hey people. I'm really sorry, but I can't write this story anymore. It's that, my mind goes blank whenever I try to. I know, I know, I've written a few chapters, but I just lose my train of thought whenever I try. If any one would like to continue this story, they are more than welcome to! I just can't think of anything else.
Katniss: The charming dead slug. TheKatnissEverdeen 00:32, June 27, 2012 (UTC)