Today my friends won't talk to me. They whisper, point and laugh…draw me ugly and drop the picture on my desk. They hold their noses and hurry past. At recess I ask my teacher if I can study for the quizz on tornadoes. She tells me to go play and I tell her my stomach hurts. She writes a pass for the bathroom, but they will find me there. I walk along the edge of the baseball diamond where no girl ever goes. I crouch low behind a small hill, close my eyes, and wish myself gone.
This happened to other girls and I didn’t do anything to stop it. No one does. There isn’t anything to do except wait until Karen decides it's enough. Karen was new last year, and everyone wanted to be her friend. My friends were proud she chose us. She made up a secret code and pretended other girls were the enemy. Karen gets bored and makes up new games. I'm now "IT".
I’ve seen Dr. King on the news. I'm doing what he tells his people: Don’t get angry. Don't fight back. They know in their hearts they are wrong, and one day soon, they will be ashamed.
During class I stare at the teacher, or the blackboard, or my math problems. Karen makes nasty gestures at me, and the others do too, except Vickie. She won't talk to me, but she isn’t mean. Vickie is too scared to stand up for me. Her parents made her swear on the Bible not to argue with white girls. They say that’s all the excuse some of these crazy white folks need to burn their house.
My banishment has been ten days now, longer than anyone's. Maybe Karen hates me more. Or maybe I didn't notice when it wasn't me.
I'm early today, and it’s just me and Vickie at the bike stand.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why Karen picked you.”
I shrug and try to smile, but I can't.
Vickie runs off and yells back, “I still like you.”
I go to the swings, and pump my legs so hard it hurts.
The next morning I have a fever and swallowing is painful. I have the mumps and stay home for two weeks. My teacher drops off homework and get well cards from my class. Vickie’s is covered with hearts. Karen drew a picture of me and her holding hands. She drew our matching pony tails.
Mom didn’t let me wash my hair while I was sick. It’s dirty and oily and she suggests I get it cut for the hundredth time. I surprise her and agree.
The beautician asks if I’m sure. “You've been growing this for a year.” She winks, “I told your Mother girls want to look like their friends.” She combs and winks again. “I could just cut the split ends. We’ll say you changed your mind.”
“Cut it off.”
“Well, class, we have a new student!” Miss Gordon is a lousy actress. “Wait!” She comes close and squints, “It’s our Sharon!"
The class laughs, and Miss Gordon says everyone missed me, “Your new hair cut shows off your big brown eyes!” I keep those eyes on her and blurr everyone else. I've been practicing this trick.
At recess, I go to the end of the line. Outside Karen, Brenda, Linda, Susie, and Vickie are waiting. Karen waves and grins. “Come on, slow poke.”
I walk measured and unhurried because my legs are weak. And because I am different now. I want them to know that.
This happened to other girls and I didn’t do anything to stop it. No one does. There isn’t anything to do except wait until Karen decides it's enough. Karen was new last year, and everyone wanted to be her friend. My friends were proud she chose us. She made up a secret code and pretended other girls were the enemy. Karen gets bored and makes up new games. I'm now "IT".
I shrug and try to smile, but I can't.
I go to the swings, and pump my legs so hard it hurts.
