Summary: What would happen if racism came to PCA, if things were seen in black and white? Would relationships between people change?
Rating: M (for language, slight drug references, mild violence and maybe some other stuff.)
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Zoey 101 or any of the original characters. I do however own the plot! YIPEE!
(A/N: I've been thinking of making this story for a while. All of the characters are juniors in High School. Yes, I am African-American and this fic means a lot to me. I'm not erasing any history. Everything is the same, only they're older. Okay, here we go.)
Chapter One – They Think They Know…
"HEY NIGGER!" the name was called loudly as Michael made his way out of the gyms changing room. He didn't dare turn around to the jackass who was trying to talk to him. Silently, he slipped his clothes on changing in the dark, desolate surrounding. Everyone else had left the changing room; Michael always took an extra five minutes showering. It felt good to feel the cool, sweet water washing away his warm, sticky sweat. "Hey", the voice called again, "Nigger can't you hear me? Or are you too damn stupid to hear me?" Michael ignored the voice, and put on his black Lacoste polo. In all his years at Pacific Coast Academy, he'd never heard anyone call him the N word. Michael hadn't heard that word in so long; at first he didn't recognize it. And maybe that was stupid, but ever since Michael came to PCA he'd felt safe, until now. "Nigger, I'm talking to you!" The voice screamed again, Michael felt a cold, hand come across his cheek, harder than he'd expected it too.
Michael breathed deeply, but didn't turn around, "Whoever you are. Leave me alone. Please. If you don't I'll give you an ass-whooping so hard…"
The person pushed him on the ground, "You don't belong here you decoated middle-class piece of shit". The person kicked Michael fiercely on his side, and then he didn't again, and again. Michael tried to get up, but the person was far stronger than him. "You should be picking my cotton, you little Nigger! Your kind doesn't belong here". The person picked Michael up by the collar of his shirt and began ramming him into lockers, ramming his head into the cold metal doors. Blood was beginning to drip from Michael's head. He saw the blood on the lockers and on the ground, careful not to let tears overwhelm him. If he let anyone see him cry he would've already lost. So he just took the beating, no matter how severe it was. "Can't you talk huh?" the person asked, the smell of warm liquor filled his nostrils.
He began to cough, the smell taking over his lungs, while he coughed he was rammed into lockers; blood everywhere, the whole room looking like a wrestling ring. And Michael was far from being the champion, but this was only round one.
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Michael sat on his bed, smoking a joint. He had never smoked before in his life, and figured this was a good time to start. He had taken one from Logan's stash and found a lighter too. While he was killing his lungs, he had a cold patch on his head. The person who had bashed him had given Michael a huge bruise.
"Michael! Open the door", he heard Chase call from outside.
Shit. Michael thought and threw the joint in the trashcan.
"Coming", he walked toward the door, the cold patch sill on his head.
"Where were you after gym?" Chase asked as he walked through the door. Zoey and Nicole followed.
Michael shrugged, "I skipped".
"Why?" Zoey asked, "You're great in school".
"Just didn't feel like going to any more classes", Michael walked over to his bed.
Nicole walked up to Michael, touching his head, "Why is there a cold patch on your head?"
"Because I got beat up", Michael answered coolly
"By who?" Chase stood up.
"It doesn't matter", Michael croaked, standing up, "I'm fine".
"You don't look fine…" Zoey tried to touch his head, "You were bleeding…"
"I'M FINE!" Michael walked out the door, slamming it behind him.
Without anytime to hesitate Nicole pushed past Zoey and Chase who stood in awe, and ran after Michael.
