Ronyx
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Darius got mad when Sheila brought the bill to our table and set it down. “Oh, no you don’t,” he said as he gripped my hand when I reached for it. I gave him a pleading look and said, “I really don’t mind. Please let me do this.” “It’s okay with me,” said Myles as he snapped his fingers. He looked at Darius and smiled. “I was going to ask you to pay for mine anyway. I’m a little low on cash right now.” “What did you do?” laughed Latasha. “Buy a new purse?” Myles smiled and re
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Thank you, Canuk, for your comments. What I was trying to do in the final paragraph was to explain that I had experienced what I am writing. It is easier to believe from a Black author, but I guess I was concerned that readers would think 'He's white. What does he know?' To use a slang term, it gives me cred.
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I awoke in the morning late. Since I didn’t have to attend school, there wasn’t a reason to get up early. The house was empty when I went downstairs. It was almost eleven, so instead of breakfast, I decided on eating lunch. I found some ham slices from the deli, and there was also a chunk of Swiss cheese hidden in the crisper. After removing a package of rye bread from the cabinet, I had the makings for a ham and Swiss sandwich. I loaded it with plenty of mayonnaise. Retrieving a liter of Pepsi
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To say I was angry when I left school would be an understatement. Dan, Jeremy, Stephen and I had been late coming back from lunch numerous times this year. In fact, just two weeks ago, Nettleman watched us enter about ten minutes late and escorted us to class. He jokingly warned us not to get senioritis too early. Now, I was on his shit list. Anything I did the rest of the year would be monitored; and if I broke any school rules, he would find some reason to suspend me. I couldn’t afford it
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“Come on,” said Darius as he exited the car. “You’ll love this place.” I got out and trailed behind him. I was extremely nervous. I had never been to a Black restaurant before. In fact, I had rarely seen a Black person in a Somerset restaurant. Darius turned and grabbed my arm, pulling me inside. The restaurant was filled with people. Loud music was blaring from speakers overhead. As we made our way to the back, Darius stopped at several tables and high-fived the people sitting there.
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@weinerdog Talk about bad timing. Two days before we were to leave, my husband and I had a breakthrough case of Covid. We took all the precautions: we were vaxxed and boosted. Thankfully, we had only mild cases- sore throats, slight fever and runny noses. We recovered in a few days, but we still isolated ourselves for a week. So instead of enjoying a deserved vacay, we stayed home. Stay safe everyone.
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I woke up around five the next morning because I was worried about school. I hadn’t spoken to anyone since school let out the day before. I had ignored my friends’ emails and text messages before my phone was confiscated. Then, yesterday I got a new phone, and I hadn’t called anyone. I was afraid that they might be mad at me. Mom and Dad were in the kitchen when I entered. Dad was reading the morning newspaper as he always does before going to his office. He looked up when I sat down. “Morn
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We pulled out of the parking lot, and Dad slowed down again as we passed the protesters across the street from the school. I noticed a local news van parked nearby. Dad pulled over and stopped the car. “What are you doing?” I asked. He replied, “I want to hear what they have to say.” I hesitated a moment before I exited the car and followed behind him. There was an older man standing on a makeshift platform talking into a bullhorn. It appeared to me that about 100 people were stan
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This is true here in the US. As I have mentioned, my husband is black. He comes from a large family where members have different skin tones. He is darker than some, and his mother had a very light complexion. I've heard the term 'high yellow' numerous times when referring to his mother. There is also a stigma to those who have a very dark or a black complexion. If you look at black models or actors/actresses, most have a lighter skin tone.
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“Parker!” I was awakened when my father hollered upstairs. I glanced quickly at the clock. It was 10:26. I went to the door and yelled, “Yeah, Dad? What do you want?” “Come downstairs,” he insisted, and then added, “And bring your phone.” I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was angry. I grabbed my phone and headed downstairs. I stopped when I reached the bottom and noticed Chief Morgan standing in the entry with a smug look on his face. I looked at my father and asked, “
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@erik baggeIt is difficult for you to understand the depth of racism in the U.S. because Sweden never enslaved another race of people for almost 250 years.
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@weinerdog I enjoy reading your comments. Make them as long as you like.
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I entered my house and slammed the door shut. I was furious over what I had seen earlier. I was also angry that the police officer had confiscated my phone. He said I could pick it up tomorrow, but I wouldn’t have my phone tonight. If they don’t give me my phone back, they’ll have to arrest me because I’m going to burn down the police precinct if they don’t. I went upstairs to my room and turned on my computer. After changing from my school clothes into a pair of sweats, I sat down at my co
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“Are you coming, Parker?” hollered out Pete when the bell rang at the end of fourth period. I hadn’t heard a word that Mr. Snyder, my geology teacher, had said. When we entered, he had handed us a sheet with a diagram of the earth’s crust, so I’m assuming he lectured about it. I just hope we don’t have a pop quiz on it tomorrow to see if we were paying attention. If he does, I’ll fail it. Lunch follows fourth period. I’m glad we eat later. Last year during my junior year, we ate after third
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@Clancy59 I would give this post a hundred loves if I could. Kids do get it.
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Warning: Before you begin reading Finding Good Trouble, you should be aware that this story will deal with the sensitive topics of racism and racial injustice. It is a gay romance story involving an interracial couple. It will be political in nature, and there may be times when you may feel uncomfortable with some of the terminology. Please don't read if this offends you. “Come on, Parker.” My friend, Pete Herschel, was pulling on my arm as he tried to drag me away. “Wait, Pete,
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Parker Frazier attends Somerset High School, a suburban white school. Over the weekend, a fight breaks out during a basketball game against an inner-city school. Tempers flared, and racial epithets were shouted. On Monday, protesters appeared outside the school. One young man caught Parker's attention. While driving home after school, he witnessed a police officer brutally arrest the young man he saw earlier that morning. Parker videotaped it with his phone and posted it on Facebook. He was not prepared for what happened next.
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Thanks, Everyone, for making Stuff People Do one of the top recommended stories at GA for the month of November.
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@drsawzall No! Not a scene from Oliver. That isn't playing fair! 😠
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No. I intentionally did not have them come together again because life is sometimes like that. People come and go in our lives. Ricky had moved on and started a new life in California. The same with Charles. He now had a new love, and Matt was someone he knew once, but only briefly.
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I awoke early and crawled out of bed so I wouldn’t disturb Trent. I wanted to make a good breakfast for him and Hayden. I wasn’t planning to go in at my usual 6:30. I hoped that Mrs. Thatcher would understand if I wasn’t there. Besides, Mr. London probably assumed that I would be late. I know Hayden likes omelets because we prepared them for the students and staff one day. He even asked me for seconds. I took the eggs, sliced ham, onions and cheese from the refrigerator. I also grabbed the
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@bottomguy Thank you for a wonderful and insightful comment. From Covenant House: Statistics on Homeless Youth in America | Covenant House Every Year, More Than 2 Million Kids in America Will Face a Period of Homelessness
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“What is that?” Trent asked as he thumbed through the papers on Mr. London’s desk. “Who were those men?” Just then, Mr. London stuck his head in the door and asked if we were okay and if he could come in. Trent looked at me and I nodded. I looked at Trent and asked, “Do you remember me telling you about the old man I lived with when I ran away the second time?” He said he did. “I left when he died and moved out. That’s when I started living on the streets.” “What does that have to do w
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Matt Stevens- A Life of Experience by Stephanie Harding We sat on the sofa, and Trent read the article to me. Stephanie told what had happened to me after running away the second time. She wrote about my parents, and how their strict religious beliefs had made it impossible for me to remain in their home. It was difficult to listen to Trent read about my life on the streets. The drugs, alcohol and sex were a part of my past, but there were still deep and lasting scars. She descr
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After dinner was served to the students, Trent and I got in his car and headed to his place. I still can’t call it home yet. I’m going to need some time to see if we can actually make this work. After all that has happened to me, my instincts tell me to be cautious. However, my heart is telling me something else. When we pulled out, Trent gripped my hand and squeezed it. “I still can’t believe this is real.” I smiled and replied, “I was just thinking the same thing.” He squeezed
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