I ran threw town, greeting people as I passed them by.
"Good evening, Mister Rue!"
"Evenin', Cassandra!"
"You goin' to jazz it up, Cassandra?!" Miss Lucille asked me.
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Mama, can I go see Miss Cassandra perform?" Lil' Louise asked Mrs. Claire.
"Louise, you're not old enough to go to those kinds of things," she told her with a gentle smile.
She pouted, then looked at me, "Miss Cassandra, only one more year, and I'll able to hear about yo' awing voice in the club!"
I laughed at the seventeen year old girl.
You see, I'm a jazz singer. I sing whatever comes to my mind: from the loveliness black greets to the subtle white meets.
My dream is to become a poetess and jazz singer, but I already kind am here in New Orleans; not being a big time poetess and jazz singer satisfies me. Fame is complicated business.
Unfortunately, I'll be moving to Harlem, New York because my Father got a big promotion in the newspaper company.
Since Harlem is the blackest and jazziest, we'll be safe from..too much prejudice.
Ya see, I grew up in New Orleans, so I didn't have to face that kind of thang. This was once a French settlement after all. Oh yeah, I'm Creole.
Creoles are sometimes easy to spot because of the mix of black and European features, but...there's something wrong with me specifically. My hair is silver, but no elderly silver-a cloudy silver, my skin color is as I implied-seemingly morganite, and my eyes are a oceanic blue...or aquamarine.
Blinking my eyes, I realized I was in front of my usual audience.
"Good evenin', y'all!" I said in the mic and they applauded or responded. "Since this is my last day here in this town, I got a special jazzy poem tonight."
The percussionist, bassist, and saxophone began to make a tune and beat for me. I could match my poetry to almost any beat.
"Sweet New Orleans, I'll miss you. Sweet New Orleans, I won't lose you. Yes, I won't be in Kansas anymore, I'll be in New York, what a wonderful wizard of Oz, yet such a Wonderful Wonder World of Wonderland. The Big Apple, they say? I guess it's okay. Ain't nothin' like Sweet New Orleans, the Big Easy. You can come up with gold and glory in the Big Apple; however, God is forgotten in their minds of how they gained that fame, an aim in New Orleans. Now that I've said my rhythm and rhymes, it's now my time to say goodbye to Sweet New Orleans...but not for a lifetime."
I took a step away from the microphone and my audience began to clap and whistle to my words that were loaded like a pistol...
Coincidentally, my heart had been shot at when I met a pair of chocolate brown eyes...and mine would soon no longer see his because after I depart...
We'd be apart.
I smiled at my audience, "Goodbye and good night, y'all."
~Small Time Skip~
I sat under a tree on a hill, staring at the night sky for stars.
"One day, I'm gonna be a star, I just know it."
Scrutinizing the stars, I suddenly came up with an hypothesis.
'Though stars are big balls of hot gas…in context, what if they're people who died young because of something like…segregation, discrimination, persecution…'
"If I want to become a star so badly…will I end up like them up there?" I asked myself.
Shaking the depressed thought away, I pointed out the constellations: Two fish (Pisces), a ram (Aries), the Big Dipper, Andromeda, Neptune, the crab (Cancer), and the scorpion (Scorpio).
"Whatchu doin' out here, girl?" a familiar voice asked me.
I looked down a bit to see chocolaty eyes...
"Camil! Long time, no see, brotha from anotha motha! How ya doin'?"
He sat beside me, chuckling. "Good, good…and my Mama's doin' good, too."
We laughed at his practical joke, then calmed down.
"You leavin' tomorrow. I'm gon' miss you, ya know?" he said and pat my head with his left hand.
"Yeah, I know. Whatchu gonna do afta I'm gone?"
"Ya know, same-o, same-o, goin' to school and helping my Pops with his store. I thought you woulda been goin' to college since you so smart."
"And learn the white man's culture? Tch, please. Overall, I ain't got nothin' against white folks, but some of 'em do crazy $#:+ that just makes ya angry, ya know? For example, in the mid-twentieth century, groups, called "Nativists", claimed that immigrants—the Irish in particular—shouldn't be on their land."
Camil gave me a confused stare, "Well…aren't they the Native Americans, just by another name?"
I frowned at him, "No. They are the white men, saying that it's their land. First of all, it's not their or our land, it's the Native Americans. They killed off 90% of those people's population, Camil! 90%!"
"Calm down, girl. Why you gettin' so angry?" he asked, wrapping his right arm around my left arm to calm me down.
"Because I feel for them, Camil. I feel for them, and the next target is us."
"Hm…I understand where ya comin' from, but didn't yo Mama tell you to "love the enemy, like the Lord said"?"
"I know that…Sometimes, I have to remind myself that there are just some bad apples in the barrel…the same goes for every other ethnicity, too; African Americans are no exception either."
"Agreed. Love the enemy…yeah, I'll love the enemy while beatin' the hell out of 'em if they provoke me."
"Camil!" I tried to scold him, but I ended up giggling and he laughed at me.
Suddenly, he pulled me close to him and he kissed my lips slowly; of course, I responded, but…
He leaned back from me, "…You know I love you...right?"
"Camil, we…we can't…Why last minute?"
"I couldn't seem to find a right time to tell you that I love you, Cassandra. You always saw me as a brotha, and I..can't say I always saw you as a sista. We met at 12…and I started seein' ya as a woman at 16."
"*Blush*…But what if I don't come back? Daddy has the promotion of a black person's life time for the Harlem Newspaper, and I don't want to break his heart by not being there to support him."
"I understand…Don't worry, Sandra...we gotta whole life ahead of us. That's enough time for me to convince you, and I refuse for anybody—don't give a damn about their color, ethnicity, or language—to come between that."
(Que Author-chan crying...)
He kissed me again and I kissed back with just as much effort as he put into it.
Camil leaned back, chuckling, "Have I already convinced ya?"
My cheeks turned red, "Sh-shut up."
"CASSANDRA! GIRL, GET HOME THIS INSTANT!" I heard my Mama yellin' down the hill.
Standing up, I looked back to only feel Camil hug me from behind, then kissed my right cheek.
"I hate to watch you leave, but I love to see you go," he said, then released me, and slapped my butt.
I turned around with a bright blush, "Camil!"
He bit his bottom lip, "Firm and tight, just the way I like," he rhymed.
"WHERE IS THAT GIRL, LAURENT?!"
"Bye, Camil! I'M ON MY WAY, MAMA!" I yelled while running down the hill.
~Tiny Time Skip~
I made it in front of my home about three minutes later. My Mama―Serafine―was standing on the front porch, tapping her left foot on the wood while propping her hands on her hips, and a worried frown on her lips.
"Girl, where have you been? I told you to come home at 7:30PM! It's-"
"7:34 PM, Serafine. Calm down," My Daddy―Laurent―said, walking out on the porch while chucking.
She crossed her arms, "I don't give a damn if she four minutes late, Laurent! Anything out there could be happenin' to my po' baby."
Mama came down the porch's steps and hugged me. After a few seconds of coddling me, we walked back up the steps into our home, which Miranda―Mira for short―my sister, held open the screen door for us.
"But Mama, Sandra is nineteen now. She ain't no baby," Mira defended me.
Mama pouted, "...But she my baby, my youngest; I don't want her to grow up," she said with tears in her eyes.
"How come ya neva said that to me?" Mira asked.
"Because you were bad as hell in yo mid-teenage years, couldn't wait fo you to grow up," she said with a bit of a joking tone.
Daddy and I laughed at Mira while Mama chuckled.
"Now I know I wasn't that bad, Mama," Mira said with a straight face, then began laughing herself because she knew it was true.
Mama let go of me and pat my back, "Dinner's ready, Cassandra. Go wash up."
~Tiny Time Skip~
It was silent for a while as we ate, that is, until...
"You didn't answer my question earlier, Cassandra. I know you went somewhere else afta goin' to the jazz club so...where ya went?" Mama asked me in suspicion of my whereabouts.
"I was just hangin' out with Camil on the hill is all, ya know, goodbyes and reflectin'."
"Camil, huh..." she said with a small smile.
Mira smirked, "Did y'all do anything else~?"
"Y'all betta not had or-" I cut Daddy off.
"Nah, it wasn't anything...too like that..." I mumbled the rest.
"He tried to touch you without yo permission?" Mama asked me with her right eyebrow raised.
"No, Mama. And...what happened, happens, or will happen between me and Camil is none of y'all's business."
"I would scold ya, but you an adult of nineteen years old, so ain't nothin' I can say EXCEPT if he hurt ya, I'm goin' crazy on the boy," Daddy said with a serious smile.
Mama looked at Daddy quickly with expects of a scolding, "You just gon' let her-...*Sigh* Well, y'all have known each otha for a long time, and Camil did protect ya, like an older brother so...alright, I'll drop it, but if you ever need advice, I'm right here for ya, Cassandra," Mama said reassuringly.
"What about me, sweetie?" Daddy asked her
"When Mira was twelve and asked ya where do babies come from, you started stuttering like a phonus balonus."
Me, Mira, and Mama laughed mercilessly at the now stuttering Daddy, who tried to come up with a retort or explanation.
~Small Time Skip~
I stared at the moon while laying in my bed.
'Tomorrow, we leavin'...I almost can't believe it. After Daddy gets settled in for a few years, I guess I'll leave Harlem and come back here. It makes me uncomfortable that I'll be recognized more in Harlem as a poetess and jazz singer...'
Who would've thought 19 would take a turn for the worse before it'll take a turn for better twenties...
(My inspiration for writing this is because I watched "The Hate U Give", listened to a poem by Jamila Lyiscott, listened to Childish Gambino's (Donald Glover) "This Is America", watched Jordan Peele's "GET OUT", Gerard McMurray's "The First Purge", Eddie Murphy's "Harlem Nights", and my study of U.S. History. Unfortunately, I couldn't find this under a particular category; misc. books is right because everything I listed is recorded into history.)