* This is a story about race, and love! Defying and transcending through the minds of two teenagers who can't help how they feel about each other. This story takes place 1970's Virginia, during the Vietnam War Era.

* I do not own these characters, just the story (Unbeta'd)

* Please Enjoy

Follow your image as far as you can no matter how useless you think it is. Push yourself.
~Nikki Giovanni

"Marcellus, I miss you already. It feels like it's been forever. Yes. I cannot wait. By the time you come here, I will have planned something, so long as I can find something. This place is definitely not New Orleans."

"Bonnie, one day, I'll bring you back. I promise, and you are going to be Mrs. Gerard."

"Why do you insist on sweet talking me? All that jive won't bring me back no quicker."

"It's okay, baby. I will be visiting you next month, we will see if it's still jive then."

"I can't wait." She says, laying back on her bed, and staring up at the ceiling. She is twiddling her fingers through the cord of the phone and tears fill her eyes. She missed her boyfriend Marcel, and her best friend, Tara and cousin Lafayette. "Bonnie?"

"Yes Marcellus."

"I have to go okay. My pops needs help at the garage today."

"Okay. Miss you."

"Ditto kiddo." He said. She could feel his warm smile and imagine his beautiful brown skin. The contrast of his skin and his perfectly white teeth did something to her. He was certainly beautiful, and she imagined that one day she and he would make beautiful brown babies, with brown, hair, and brown eyes, full lips and the perfect products of black loving relationship. The chord of his voice rang in her ears like a sweet melody. As she hung up the phone, her lowly playing FM radio filled in the empty background silence. Her heart was aching, and she was nowhere near the man she loved to get a comforting hug of protection. The radio sting got louder as her tears fell upon deaf ears. Diana Ross' Ain't no Mountain High Enough, coincidentally playing.

Bonnie had to start her new school tomorrow, and she wasn't excited in the least bit. She fell asleep crying, and didn't wake up until her alarm went off at 6:30 the next morning. When her eyes opened, they were slightly puffy and stinging from the night before. The slight headache might be an indication of how her day was going to go.

"Let's go Bonnie, I will take you on my way to the café. You won't have to catch that bus." Sheila says.

Abby is still asleep and hasn't tried to comfort Bonnie or give her some motherly courage to get her through her first day in a new place.

Sheila was Bonnie's grandmother; the hardest working woman she knew. She worked two jobs and lived comfortably in Mystic Falls, Virginia. Her first job was at a Cafe as a cook, the second job she was a cook for a wealthy family in town. By day and Night Sheila worked doing what she loved. Cooking.

Bonnie's POV

When Sheila makes it to Bonnie's school, she drops her off a block away, giving Bonnie the opportunity to move at her own pace. When Bonnie gets out and begins walking toward the direction of the school, she becomes painfully aware of the pattern, and direction her life was about to take, making a drastic turn. There was no chance to even retort with denial. She felt as though her entire world were falling in front of her face. Chaos was a mindless joke in the form of a colorless room. Her entire skin felt as though it were being punished for a crime it didn't commit. For the first time in her life, she was painfully aware of how brown she was, she was rudely awakened to her new life. The life that went from bad to worse.

Bonnie's brain went into protective mode the second she crossed the final street and laid her foot on the same grounds of the other feet, that belonged to all of the students that went to her new school. All sound flooded her ears and life looked and sounded like a blur moving lightning speed around her. She treaded the walkway up to the stair way and into the main hall of the school. Her eyes had to be deceiving her. If not, they were about to, by forcing tears to flood her face. Bringing more attention to her only defensive mechanism, her 'yes I am a bitch' face, 'approach with caution.'

Everywhere she looked, it was the same thing. Not only was everyone the same, but not a one was like her. The potential for loneliness filled her being and she was painfully aware of how much she was alone and different. Every few feet she walked, a new set of whispers followed her.

In that moment every insecurity that could have possibly filled her did. It turned her into a sad, lonely little black girl. A defenseless, angry, little, black girl. It berated her idea of herself, and no one had planted the seed of loneliness but her. She forced herself into a little corner inside of her mind and had the choice to stay within the confinements of her mind's cocoon, or blossom like the beautiful black butterfly she was. For mere moments there, she was holding onto her folders in her arms so tightly, you would swear she was trying to cover her body up. Then as she realized the very thing that made her different made her special, and she transferred the folders into the grip of one of her arm pits then stood her slightly shorter, yet curvy body as tall as she could.

Her neck went from hunched to elongated, her head went from her chin tucked into her arms to held high. Her melanin was the difference between her and every other person in the room with her. For the first time, Bonnie was the only black girl at an all-white school, and she was facing it alone. Like she did with everything else.

All she could do was tell herself, Fly butterfly, fly!

Bonnie stood before her first period class. She was to introduce herself and give a couple of interesting facts about herself to her fellow classmates. She was use to attention anyway. Bonnie was a woman confident with herself. Her confidence was the difference between her and the stereotype. She never perpetuated the idea that she could be considered angry. She gave people a motive and they ran with it, whatever truth they felt made sense.

"Hello, my name is Bonnie Bennett. I came here from New Orleans. Two interesting facts about me?"

She never perpetuated any ideas, until today.

"Two interesting facts about me. I'm black, and I'm proud."

The absolute in her face let the entire class know she was serious, yet the nature of her defensiveness was new to everyone. So they all giggled and smiled at her, believing she was joking. She wasn't joking though. She was serious. Her harsh tone was taken with a dose of light-hearted humor and the students all cheered for her admission. She didn't know how to take this. Bonnie grew up around few white people. The one who were around, were very accepted by her community, born and raised in her idea of what it meant to be black.

She was defensive, and maybe it was uncalled for, because from this point-of-view the entire class was interested in her, and wanted to know more about the colored girl. Colored? Huh, that is a funny word she thought. Before she walked to sit down, she flashed what looked like a small grin to her schoolmates. Her smiles were captivating. Her smile lingered a bit as she walked towards the back of the class to have a seat. On her stroll to sit down she glanced to the far corner of the class, catching the eye of one blue eyed boy who perfected the mysterious nature of the type pf boy your momma warned you about.

She held his tight gaze, unfazed by his penetration, and with that the battle for the biggest ego began.

She knew he had no idea how big her balls were, but it was quite possible she had no idea how big his were either.

She finally broke his gaze first, her face turned to face the front of the class, and gave him no more attention for the duration of the period.

He gave a half lit grin, and found her to be positively dynamite.

Damon's POV

Another day in class another year in school, time should go by quickly now. This place is hardly worth being at most days. Luckily today is a minimum day. I can get the hell out of here early and go work on Stella.

Stella was a hard body, curvy little lady Damon loved. She was sky blue like his eyes and born in 1967. IT was what he thought about most days. Working on a fixing up is car. Polishing it every week and cruising around with some lucky new girl every week. Who would be the lucky girl this week? A brunette, maybe a blonde. Oh, if he played his cards right the red head from fourth period who filled out her sweater quite well. The girls can't resist the ladies' man with the devilish charm.

She walked into his world though, unexpectedly trampled his boisterous ego, with her very own larger than life self-awareness. Her hair was curly, and rather full, it was light brown and reminded him of an exotic version of Pam Grier, meets Angela Davis. She was fiery. She had earthy green eyes, and brown skin. Her face had soft features with striking lines. Her lips were heart-shaped and as pink as they wanted to be. She had on a small flannel shirt, which was tied just above the navel, showing her exaggeratingly, perfect hour glass figure. He had no idea those really existed in girls her age. The jeans she wore were tight and hugged her like he hugged the curves of the highways going 100 miles an hour. He was certain that he wanted to trace her curves and park his car in her garage. He felt her nervousness as she fiddled with her hands while she held her folder tucked under her arm. The second she spoke, he imagined what she sounded like moaning his name, he could tell she sang the lords praises, the way her voice rolled off her tongue. Her attitude was out of this world, can I have her to keep? He wondered. She was perfect. Her brown skin was something he had never had before, in his repertoire of women.

He was on one hand, a terrible boy, and on the other hand a great lover. He balanced himself out, so he believed the universe looked out for him, in that way; and that this girl would be different. The universe would have nothing to do with her, she defied the odds of his universe, with her black features, and her black body, and her black attitude, and her black skin. It all boiled down to how different she was. Her blackness to his whiteness was the thing that defied the world they lived in. He found the one thing that made her so much different from him to be the one thing that made her so much more beautiful than any other girl he has ever laid his undead, crystal clear eyes on. She had the potential to defy his minds gravity.

Yet, he would have to pretend she was like every other girl, because in his mind he knows, she doesn't want special treatment. Yet, she was special and she knew she was. He made up his mind in that moment, that he would not pursue her. She was the type to humiliate and put him in his place, not because of the color of her skin, but because she is alone here, and she has nothing to lose. But he has everything to lose.

She stands before the class not even letting a smile peek through, until right before she walks to her seat, he finally catches her smile, right before they lock eyes, and she continues to defy his minds gravity by holding his gaze. She fucking perfect. He thinks. He can't take his eyes off her. She finally looks away and he, can't help but to smile, because he felt something, and he knows she felt it too. If she didn't she wouldn't have gone out of her way to avoid him the rest of the class.

Her face is embedded in his brain all day.