Chapter 14

The following Sunday, on February 17th, the Bradys accompanied Aretha as she walked out of jail. She was quite relieved – but enraged at the same time – and ranted about it on the whole way back home.

"I wasn't bothering anyone," Aretha said as she joined the Bradys in the station wagon. "I was just taking the bus like everyone else on board." Marcus then started the car and started driving back home. "Since Mr. Brady's been out of work, I was trying to find another job myself to help support the family. But then, the bus driver walked up to me and said that I needed to sit in the back. I glared at him and told him that I didn't need to move. He then replied that I belonged in the back because I was black."

"That's awful," Moesha said, "but isn't that sort of discrimination illegal nowadays?"

"It is," Aretha nodded, "but as you know, that's not what I got arrested for."

"I can't believe that you actually punched the bus driver!" exclaimed Benjamin as a smile spread across his face.

"I have to be honest with you – I didn't know that I had it in me!" Aretha said. The others in the station wagon laughed.

"That was pretty inspiring, Aretha," Ciara said as she smiled broadly. "You were just like Rosa Parks! It's wonderful that you stood up for yourself like that."

Aretha nodded. "Yeah, but I just can't believe that people still act like that. And I hear that things haven't gone well for the rest of you."

Chloe shook her head and gritted her teeth. "We have been discriminated against for one reason or another – just for trying to live our lives like normal citizens! It's outrageous, and I had no idea that so much prejudice still existed! Our kids are being harassed in their schools, and hardly anyone seems to care!"

Marcus then stopped at a red light, and Aretha looked at Chloe. "You know what? Why don't you run for school superintendent? You could put an end to all the discrimination that's been going on."

Ciara's face lit up. "Yeah! If you got elected, then you'd be the first black female superintendent – just like Shirley Chisholm was the first black female member of Congress!"

Chloe smiled broadly. "You're right! I think that I'll do just that!"

"Mrs. Brady for president – that is, superintendent!" shouted Aretha as the traffic light turned green. Marcus resumed the drive home, and everyone in the car cheered.

"You know, guys," Ciara said, "the rest of us should work to fight discrimination as well. I didn't understand why Camille was so mad at me, but now, I realize that it's hard to trust white people since so many have discriminated against blacks. We should change that! I now understand just how hard life can be for blacks."

The others in the station wagon voiced their agreement. "You know," Marcus said, "this experience will probably be beneficial for you in your report."

Ciara's eyes bulged. "Report? That's right! I'm going to call Camille and tell her all about what happened!" she said as Marcus turned the station wagon onto Clinton Avenue.

Later that day, Chloe dropped off Ciara at a one-level home a few miles away. "I'll see you later, Ciara," Chloe said. "I'll pick you up at 5:00." Ciara nodded, and the two waved as Chloe drove away. Then, Ciara turned, walked up the rickety porch, and knocked on the door. A few seconds later, a middle-aged African-American woman with long, black hair appeared.

"Hi, I'm Ciara – Camille's friend," Ciara said.

The woman smiled. "Hi there," she smiled. "Come on in. Camille's inside."

Ciara walked into the house, and Camille's mother closed the door. Ciara looked around briefly and found that she was in a small family room with not much more than an old sofa, a thirteen-inch TV set, and plywood sitting on concrete blocks that served as a makeshift coffee table. "Camille's in her room. Let me take you to her," the woman said – guiding Ciara away from the family room and down a tiny hall to the left. The woman led Ciara through an open door on the right, and that was where Ciara found Camille.

Camille's face lit up when she saw Ciara. "Hey, girl!" she greeted warmly as she got up from her bed and hugged Ciara.

"What's up, Camille?" Ciara replied.

"You girls let me know if you need anything," Camille's mom replied before walking away.

"Yeah, fine, Mom," Camille said. She then sat back down on her bed and motioned for Ciara to sit next to her. She did so, and Camille looked at her with concern in her eyes. "I am so sorry to hear about what happened to you, girl."

Ciara looked down and started crying a little. "Yeah, me too. It's horrible. I can't believe that sort of thing still happens."

Camille raised an eyebrow. "You can't believe it still happens? Girl, where've you been?"

Ciara's eyes bulged briefly – remembering that she hadn't been black for long. "Oh…uh…I mean I believe it. I just wouldn't believe it if I hadn't experienced things like that myself."

Camille snorted. "Yeah, nobody else around here seems to understand what we've been through."

Ciara then asked, "You're from Compton originally, right?"

Camille nodded. "Yeah, but we moved here. I wasn't crazy about the idea, but my parents wanted to move here. Despite all the problems in Compton, I miss living there." Her face brightened when she said, "Hey, maybe I can get my mom to drive us by my old house."

Ciara's own face lit up. "Hey, that's a great idea!"

With that, Camille left her room, and Ciara followed her. The two went into the kitchen – where they found Camille's mother talking on the phone. They waited a few more minutes before she hung it up and turned to look at them.

"Mom, would it be okay if you drove us by our old house?" Camille asked. "I'd like Ciara here to see it."

Camille's mother groaned a little. "Oh, Camille, that's a bit of a drive from here, and I've got to get to my second job in a few hours."

"Mom, please…? " begged Camille.

Her mother briefly looked at Ciara, who appeared just as anxious as Camille, and sighed. "All right, all right," she said – smiling a little. "I guess we can go see it."

Camille wrapped her arms around her mother and cried, "Thank you, Mama!"

Her mother laughed a little and said, "You're welcome, baby."

A while later, Camille and Ciara were riding in an old car from the 1950s that Camille's mother was driving. The two girls were in the back seats, and suddenly, Camille poked Ciara before pointing out the window. "Here we are! There's our old house!" Ciara looked where Camille was pointing and saw a dilapidated one-level home similar in appearance to Camille's current home. It had lots of broken windows and graffiti. Ciara frowned. She couldn't imagine that such a place could actually be her home.

"And now, we're entering the city limits of Compton," Camille said.

Ciara's frown deepened as she saw the condition of the city. There were a number of apparently homeless people lying on benches, and lots of old, dilapidated buildings had shattered windows and graffiti. There were a few garbage cans with fires burning inside them. Ciara also noticed that very few white people were present. Most of them were black.

"I can see why you moved…no offense," Ciara said.

"None taken," Camille said.

"Yeah, Compton was home to us, but things got so bad over the years – especially after the Watts riots. All black people wanted was the end of discrimination, but that just accelerated the white flight. We moved to Santa Monica in search of a better life," Camille's mother said. She then sighed and said, "Unfortunately, so far, we haven't had much luck finding good jobs in Santa Monica. Discrimination is still as bad there as anywhere else."

Ciara's eyes bulged in shock. She never would have imagined that. She remained mostly silent for the rest of the drive through the beleaguered Compton and the drive back to Santa Monica.

A while later, once back at Camille's new house, the girls went to Camille's bedroom again while waiting for Chloe arrive. Ciara looked around Camille's room and noticed a big poster of an African-American man with short black hair, a goatee, and eyeglasses. "Who's – I mean – I see your poster there," Ciara said. She didn't want to say that she didn't know who was on the poster.

Camille smiled broadly. "Yep, I love Malcolm X. He was great. He knew that the best solution to our problems was separation of the races. I like that he believed in fighting injustices by any means necessary. You just can't expect pacifism to work. Look at where we are now."

Ciara smiled as she stared at the poster. Camille had a point. She had been so ignorant. She thought that racism was a thing of the past, but since becoming a black person, she realized that racism still very much existed. It still affected African-American people years after Martin Luther King made his speech – and after years of legislation designed to protect blacks. Ciara was now starting to believe that Malcolm X, rather than Martin Luther King, should have been iconic of the Civil Rights Movement. Black people probably would have been so much better off. Ciara wanted to learn more about Malcolm X and follow in his footsteps. She wanted to start a revolution to end injustices for black people.

"Hey, Camille, what do you say we start talking to other blacks at our school and work together to actively resist racism?" Ciara suggested as she heard a car horn honk outside.

Camille smiled. "That's a great idea, girl! I am so glad to have you around!"

Then, Camille's mother entered the room. "Ciara, your mom's here."

Ciara looked at Camille. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow at school. Bye."

"Bye, girl," Camille said. The two hugged, and Ciara followed Camille's mother and went outside to the station wagon.

Later that night, Ciara was sleeping in her room when she heard a familiar jingling noise. Her eyes slowly opened and saw a familiar bright orb hovering over her bed. At first, she thought that someone had turned on a lamp, but she soon realized that her fairy godmother had returned.

"Wha-what are you doing here?" Ciara asked somewhat irritably as she rubbed her eyes.

"I'm here because I need to talk with you," the fairy godmother said.

Ciara scoffed, grabbed her blanket, and pulled it over her head. "Go away! Yeah, I understand what Camille and other black people have been through! White people are nothing but evil! I hate them!"

Her fairy godmother frowned. She started waving her wand, which pulled Ciara's blanket away from her head.

"Hey!" snapped Ciara – but then covered her mouth – hoping that she didn't wake her sisters.

"I'm afraid that there is still something more that Camille and you need to understand before you have the choice for your life to go back to normal," the fairy godmother said. Before Ciara could say another word, the fairy godmother began waving her sparkling wand, and she disappeared in a burst of light, and Ciara magically went back to sleep.