Yay! Thanks for the reviews and the encouragement from: SapphireStones, Osaisi, and Trigger Mike the Great. It is greatly appreciated. Welllllllll, I'm trying. (: Enjoy.
"DAMMIT, BOY! GET BACK HERE!" The crack of his grandfather's belt sent Riley flying.
"I HATE YOU!" He screamed, running out of the house. His grandfather chased him and caught him, beating him on the spot. Riley's screams echoed down Timid Deer Lane, nosy white people everywhere peeped outside to see what was happening. They hid behind bushes, they hid behind their doors. Some of them had the audacity to walk right up close to the old man and his grandson and form a sort of semi-circle around the pair. Keeping a reasonable distance, of course. Huey Freeman watched out the window.
"White people…" he thought aloud, returning to his work. AP Physics homework wasn't going to do itself, after all. The oldest Freeman was probably the smartest young man at his school. Unfortunately for him, he was not number one in his class. He was in the top five, but there were two people ahead of him. He didn't know who they were, but he did know they were white. He blamed it on the white man's inability to appreciate his style of writing. Or debate. Or anything else, for that matter. He believed Woodcrest High School was holding him down because he would be the first African American valedictorian ever at his school. Which is why he decided it was time to actually try. He signed up for the hardest classes his school could offer. No electives were included in his schedule, which was good for him because he couldn't stand mainstream classes. He never failed to go off on one of his fellow black men who wouldn't do his work. He always told them that they were the reason white people generated such a negative stereotype for black people.
Much was the same for his new neighbor, Chai. Jolie Costa was half Mexican and half Italian (her father was mixed black and Italian, and her mother was Mexican with some Italian in her ancestry). She moved to Woodcrest from Los Angeles, California, where she attended a school similar to Woodcrest High. While she was more street smart than book smart, she was still in the top quarter of her class. Her classes were not nearly as hard as Huey's, taking Art over more rigorous math courses any day, but she excelled in all of her classes. And while she was in Los Angeles, Chai often found herself telling her fellow Mexican-Americans the same things Huey would tell his fellow African Americans. And that is how the two would get into an argument at dinner.
Robert Jebediah Freeman loved to host dinner parties and invited the DuBois and the Costas to dinner that night. On the table was a nice display of food. Granddad made greens, chicken, and mashed potatoes. Rocio "made" tiramisu with her sister (which means Chai did all the real cooking), and their father brought a bottle of Malvasia di Schierano to go with the dessert. Mrs. DuBois attempted at another peach cobbler.
"Boys! Get down here right now, its dinner time!" Granddad called, humming the "Dinnertime song". The Freeman brothers took their places at the dining table.
"Eww what is that? Ms. DuBois, you try to make cobbler again? Man, it STILL look like throw up."
"Riley! Shut yo' mouth!" Granddad ordered, but his grandson didn't hear. He continued to tease Sarah for her poor cobbler-making skills.
"Well then you don't have to eat any," Mrs. DuBois interrupted him. "It looks like our new neighbors brought a dessert too." She pointed at the tiramisu.
"It was my nonna's favorite," Rocio beamed, proudly. "I made it with sorella."
"Wit who?"
"Sorella is Italian for sister," Rocio explained to Riley. "And we call boys like you bello, si sorella?" Chai's eyes widened and she nearly spit out her drink.
"Lei è troppo giovane per preoccuparsi di ragazzi," she scolded. "But I guess so, if you're into that kind of thing." Chai's father laughed nervously, looking around the confused table.
"No more Italian at the table," he advised.
"What she say about me?!"
"Nothing bad, don't worry about it," The older sister told him.
"Naw, bitc-, I mean, girl, watchu say about me?"
"I didn't say anything about you," she replied calmly. "Good save, by the way."
"So, Mr. Costa," Jazmine started.
"Please, call me Lawrence," he smiled.
"Uh…okay, Mr. Lawrence," she started again. "You don't look very Italian, how do they know it?"
"Well, I'm half Italian, and my girls are Italian, Black, and Mexican."
"They ain't look black."
"Shut up, Riley. Not all people of African descent are dark skinned or even light skinned. In South Africa, a large number of the people there are white. The black people there went through the same stuff we went through here when we were fighting for civil rights, only they called in Apartheid. Nelson Mandela went to prison fighting for his rights over there. It's ignorant niggas like you that keep our people down. You can't judge a person's heritage from just their looks." While, most people stop listening to Huey at any sign of lecture, Chai listened attentively, her big brown eyes fixated upon him.
"Well," she started. "Why do you do that then?" The rest of the table returned its attention to Chai and Huey, who were seated across from each other.
"What are you talking about?"
"You think all white people automatically think of all black people in a certain stereotype," she continued. "Not all of them do. The few white friends I had were always very accepting and open minded and never thought of black people in any kind of stereotype whatsoever. So by assuming all white people are 'keeping you down' just because you're black, you're being hypocritical for judging the same way they judge you, and the way you just told your brother not to judge: by appearance." She left the table stunned.
"Uh oh…" Jazmine thought aloud, wide eyed.
"Did…you just call me a hypocrite?" Huey inquired, slightly angry.
"Yes, in that aspect, I do believe you are a hypocrite," Chai answered.
"Aww, shit. Here it goes. Girl, you best escape while you can. This nigga goes on for hours," Riley advised. "Yo dumbass had to go and call him a hypocrite, girl you trippin!"
Granddad ushered everyone out of the dining room. "Riley, take care of the dishes!"
"I'll help!" Jazmine offered. Together, they cleared the table and made their way to the kitchen.
It was on now.