Chapter 4
Bobby and Cindy arrived at their split-level house surrounded by AstroTurf. The two entered the front of the house through one of the green double doors. They walked down a few brick steps leading to the carpeted area of the spacious living room with a ceiling about as high as that of the second floor. They passed the coffee table and chairs near the stone fireplace as they approached the stairs leading to the second floor. As they did so, their mother, Carol, wearing a pink sweater over a white blouse, emerged from the doorway leading to the den west of the stairs.
"Hi, kids, how was school?" Carol asked cheerfully.
Bobby shrugged and pulled down the brown sweater covering his yellow plaid shirt. "It was okay, but I'm happy that the weekend is here," the twelve-year-old said as he smiled broadly.
Carol then looked at Cindy but frowned a bit when she noticed that her daughter didn't appear to share her brother's happiness. "Is something wrong, Cindy?" Carol asked. "Aren't you glad to be back from school?"
"Yeah, I am," Cindy said. "I just can't stop thinking about what happened at school."
Carol cocked her blonde head and raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"
Cindy briefly looked at the floor. "Well, there was this new girl named Camille at school, and she kept getting mad at me. This morning, I accidentally bumped into a door, which ended up hitting her." Bobby's eyes widened slightly as he apparently remembered the incident. "And later, I bumped into her and caused her to slip in a puddle on the floor. I tried to help her stand, but she wouldn't let me. Later, I learned that Camille was in Mr. Carmichael's class with me, and we're now working together on an assignment, but she won't talk with me!"
"Really?" questioned Carol. She then guided Cindy over to the green armchairs on one side of the coffee table.
"Yeah, Mom," Bobby said as he followed the two and sat on the white and beige sofa with floral prints on the other side of the coffee table. "I don't know about the other things, but I saw this morning that she snapped at Cindy even when she tried to apologize for bumping into her."
Carol's eyes bulged as she scowled in disbelief. "Well, that doesn't sound very nice. Why in the world would she act like that?"
Cindy sat down in one of the green armchairs and shrugged. "That's just it, Mom – I don't know, but she did say some things that confused me." Carol herself sat in one of the green armchairs and kept her eyes on Cindy. "At the fountain, when I tried to help her stand, she said that she didn't need my help – and that 'all of you' had all helped 'us' enough over the years…whatever that meant."
Carol and Bobby narrowed their eyes in confusion. "That's weird," Bobby said.
"Later, after school, I tried to talk with Camille and get started on our assignment," Cindy said. "I invited her to come here and meet the family, but she wasn't interested, and she also wouldn't let me go to her house. She then started shouting at me. I didn't understand why she was still mad at me even after I apologized, and she said that I was mistaken if I thought that an apology would fix everything. She also said that 'my people' had no idea what 'her people' had been through, and I'd understand only if I lived as she actually lived. But what do 'my people' and 'her people' even mean? And what does that have to do with accidentally bumping into her? I'm so confused, Mom," Cindy said – sounding as if she were on the verge of tears.
Carol, her mouth hanging open, looked as bewildered as ever and glanced at Bobby. The boy with shaggy brown hair merely shrugged. Carol looked at Cindy again and asked, "What exactly is this assignment of yours?"
"We're studying black history this month in Mr. Carmichael's class, and Camille and I are supposed to do a report on an African-American community. Camille spent most of her life in Compton, which is probably what will be part of our project, and I tried asking her about Compton and her life at home, but she wouldn't talk to me. Also, she's the only black kid in class."
Carol bent down and gave Cindy a hug once she finished explaining what happened. "Well, honey, I don't know why exactly Camille was acting the way that she did, but don't do anything to make her more upset," the housewife said. "Maybe you would benefit from trying to learn about black history. I know it's Friday, but maybe you should get started early on your assignment and go to the library and get some books on the subject."
Cindy nodded. "That's a good idea, Mom. I'll do just that." She then got up, walked up the brick steps, and opened one of the green double doors.
"Be sure that you're home in time for dinner!" Carol reminded her daughter. Cindy nodded and left.
That evening, the entire family had gathered to eat pizza for dinner at the table positioned between the living room and the kitchen. The boys sat across from the girls, Carol sat at the end of the table closest to the stairs, and Mike, the patriarch, sat at the opposite side. Alice, wearing her standard uniform consisting of a light blue dress and white apron, occasionally came in and out of the kitchen – providing refills as requested and joining the Bradys in conversation. Most at the table chattered happily, and occasional laughter bounced off the walls. Cindy, however, was rather quiet and just stared at her plate as she ate. After a few minutes, she quit eating and looked up.
"Mom, may I be excused for a second?" Cindy asked. Her mother nodded, and Cindy then ran into the nearby family room. She returned a second later with a few books and again sat at the table.
As Cindy placed one book on the table, her father, clad in a shirt with overlapping brown and white squares, stared sternly at her. "Cindy, why are you reading at the dinner table?" Mike asked. This prompted a few of the other Bradys to look at Cindy.
"I'm trying to study black history for school," the eleven-year-old explained. "This girl, Camille, and I have an assignment to do a report on an African-American community. She grew up in Compton, and that will probably be the subject of our report. She was also snappy with me all day even though I tried to be nice to her."
The architect's curly brown hair bounced slightly as he nodded and laughed a little. "Well, I'm sorry to hear about Camille, but I'm glad that you're interested in studying!" he said with a smile. "Who'd think that any of you kids would actually be studying on a Friday evening?" A few of the other Bradys laughed. Mike then frowned slightly and asked, "Still, wouldn't it be better if you waited until after dinner to work on your assignment?"
"I'm sorry, Dad, but I just can't help but think about what happened today – why Camille was so mean," Cindy said. "That's part of the reason why I'm trying to learn more about black history."
"What did she do?" asked the blonde fourteen-year-old in a yellow blouse.
Cindy looked at Jan and replied, "I bumped into her a few times today, and she was still mad at me even after I apologized. She said that I'd only understand what 'her people' went through if I lived as she did – and that apologizing wasn't enough." Cindy looked at the other Bradys and narrowed her eyes as Alice entered the room. "All that just because I accidentally bumped into her?"
The blonde in a sweater with black, white, and red stripes spoke next. "Maybe she was just having a bad day," Marcia said. "Hopefully, she'll be in a better mood, and studying black history might help you guys get along better." A few of the other Brady kids voiced their agreement with the sixteen-year-old.
"Yeah, this is only the first day that you've known her, right?" asked the fifteen-year-old in a white shirt with black and yellow stripes. Cindy nodded at her brother with curly brown hair. "If she's new to school, then she might need time to adjust." Peter then noticed Alice walking in his direction and held up his glass to get more tea.
Alice then cleared her throat – causing Peter to look up at her. The housekeeper tilted her graying head and asked, "Aren't you forgetting something?" Peter stared blankly at her. Alice frowned and said, "Ask if you could PLEASE have some more tea."
Peter's eyes bulged in realization. "Oh! I'm sorry, Alice. Could I PLEASE have some more tea?"
"Sure thing," Alice said – pouring some more tea into Peter's glass before patting his perm. She then turned her attention to the other Bradys before closing her eyes and shaking her head. "I don't know…somehow I have a feeling that something more is bothering that girl than just being a new kid…but I'm sure that's still part of it."
"That may be," said Greg as he partially unbuttoned his white shirt. The eighteen-year-old then looked at the book that Cindy had placed on the table. "So, what kind of books did you get from the library?"
"All kinds," Cindy said. "I got books on Martin Luther King, Frederick Douglass, Harriet Tubman, and Rosa Parks." Cindy then held up the book that had been on the table. "But this book that I'm reading now has been confusing me. I don't see at all how it relates to black history."
"Let me see that," Greg said as he took the book from Cindy. He turned a few pages and looked at the cover. Greg's curly brown hair then bounced as he threw back his head and laughed.
Cindy glared at her brother. "What's so funny?"
"Th-this book is about George Washington!" Greg cried between laughs.
Cindy raised an eyebrow. "So? Didn't he invent a bunch of uses for peanuts?"
"No!" Greg laughed. "You're thinking of George Washington CARVER!"
Cindy frowned and looked at the other Bradys. "I think that this is assignment is going to be more confusing than ever!" Everyone in the room laughed.
Later that night, Cindy and her sisters had gone to their bedroom to sleep. The soft breathing of Marcia and Jan filled the otherwise silent room while Cindy stared up at the ceiling in darkness. Thoughts raced through the girl's mind as she slowly fell asleep. Hours earlier, her parents and siblings helped her learn about black history. They looked through Cindy's books about Martin Luther King, Frederick Douglass, Harriet Tubman, and Rosa Parks. Cindy managed to learn a few facts – like when and where such black figures were born, but the family collectively did not have comprehensive knowledge about black history, and Cindy still felt very confused. How exactly was this even going to help her make peace with Camille? Since the subject matter was overwhelming, the Bradys and Alice agreed to help Cindy over the subsequent weeks. Eventually, Cindy's eyelids closed, and she fell asleep.
About half an hour later, what seemed to be the sound of bells jingling cut through Cindy's head. As the jingling became more persistent, Cindy gradually awoke and tried to find the source of the sound. It didn't exactly sound like bells since it was softer and more melodious. Cindy then thought that someone had turned on the lights in her room.
"Cindy…? Cindy, wake up…" a female voice echoed through her head. That got the eleven-year-old's heart pounding. Although the voice wasn't particularly threatening, the fact that it addressed her by name was frightening enough.
The combination of the jingling, light, and voice allowed Cindy to muster enough strength to open her eyes. The poor girl's heart nearly jumped out of her body. A white orb glowed just above Cindy's bed, and in the middle of the orb was an African-American woman. Cindy was so startled that she at first thought that Camille was in the orb. However, the eleven-year-old realized that the woman looked more like Joyce Bryant with her short black hair that resembled Alice's. The woman was wearing a silver crown and a black dress – and was holding a sparkling gold wand with a star at one end.
"Wh-wh-who are you?" Cindy nearly shouted. She almost wished that she hadn't addressed the woman directly. Her trembling reminded her how scared she was.
The woman smiled. "Relax, Cindy, it's okay – I'm not going to hurt you. I'm sorry if I scared you. I am your fairy godmother, and I'm here to help you."
Cindy narrowed her eyes and raised an eyebrow. "You're my fairy godmother? No offense, but I would have thought that mine would have been…well…you know…"
"White?" the fairy godmother offered.
"Yeah," Cindy said. "No offense. I don't care about anyone's race."
"I know that, and that's why I'm here to help you," the fairy godmother said. "I noticed that you have had problems with a girl named Camille."
Cindy's heart pounded – only now, a smile spread across her face. "You did?" The fairy godmother nodded. "Oh, please help me!" begged Cindy. "I've had problems with her since I first met her. All I did was accidentally bump into her a few times. I tried to be nice, but she kept being mean to me and refused my help. I just don't understand. Why does she do that? Why won't she help me with the assignment?"
"Well, in order for you to truly understand Camille's behavior, I think that your family and you should spend a few weeks living as black people," the fairy godmother said.
Cindy's eyes narrowed again. "What? You're going to turn us into black people? Is that really necessary to help me understand Camille?"
"No, but I think that you would understand her better if that were the case," the fairy godmother said. "So, would you be okay with living as a black girl for a while?"
Cindy placed a finger on her chin and thought for a few seconds. Finally, she looked at her fairy godmother. "Yes. I am willing to do that."
The fairy godmother began waving her wand, which began sparkling even more. "Okay, you will soon go back to sleep, and when you wake up, your family and you will all be black people." The jingling noise intensified, and the room grew brighter and brighter until Cindy could no longer see anything. Before she knew it, she had again fallen asleep, and the white orb disappeared.