All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Breaking Silence
As I walk into the West Wing lunch room of Verrado High, I notice how all the race stick together - like a powerful force drawing them together, as if it was fate or some Devine intervention, to let them know who they were. Like how the blacks sit on the north-west side of the cafeteria; all proud and head strong. And my kind, the whites, how they sit there acting as if they where superior. As if they where the almighty God him self. But yet I would not be thinking of none of this, if there wasn’t a point.
Walking threw the lunch room I saw something, something of great matter to life. Beauty to destroy men and women alike. A body with no values nor no morals. One of pure intelligence could not figure out how she was put together. Like wise to a man of great charm. She was that, of a black beauty. I felt a great pain in my chest, as I stare at her. Every curve of hers broke silence, to say “Damn!”
Yet there’s two reasons why I’m felling shamed. The first, she was black. How could I be in love with a black chick? I mean, I didn’t really consider black people as something of beauty, but her. - As if God him self allowed her to be that magnificent, and two. She was a chick, a girl with breast, a va-jay-jay, and smooth silky light brown skin. That could catch a fly in its glare.
“Move!” an Asian kid yells at me, as my books go falling to the ground. Bending down to pick them up I hear a soft voice. My heart stopped and I fainted. When I awoke, I was in the nurse office. A white warm towel laid upon my forehead dripping water into my eyes. I wipe my eyes. When I open them, a brown hand reached out to me grabbing the towel. It was her, my black beauty, the evil deed in which made all of this wrong in every way possible.
“Hi.” she spoke with such ease. “H, hi.” I spoke, like a monkey, I spoke.
“You fainted out there.”
“Yeah, so I did.”
“Why?” as she asked the question why, it stuck. Why did I faint? Was it her voice, that soft loving voice? Or was it her smell, the smell of cocoanut and peaches mixing with her body sweat.
“Aren’t you going to tell me why?” She spoke.
“Olive juice.” olive juice! I just said olive juice, me Zelda spoke the words olive juice. What was I thinking, I’m not gay. Why do I lust her so much, what makes her different from every other chick? What!
“Olive juice?” she laughed. As she laughed I watched her body move. Her breast bounce up and down in the same pattern as my heart. “Are you trying to say I love you?” she said. What was this, has she broken the code? By some crazy events, she manager to see right threw me. She was able to read me like a children’s book. Page to page, was I that simple. “That movie may be like 50 years old but, I saw it. The Other Sister right?” she talk once again. I laid there in confusion. “The Other Sister?” I asked.
“Yeah, you know, that movie about that retarded sister who wants love. They say it’s a love think, meaning from a distance the mouth moments olive juice looks just like I love you. So what is it, do you love me?” she smiled laughing not realizing that I did. “Love you, I don’t even know your name.” she reaches out her hand. “Tiana.” she said as I grabbed her hand. Tiana hand was so soft and smooth, like her voice. “Zelda.”
“Like the game?”
“Yeah, my father he’s cheesy. That’s where I got olive juice from.”
“Well Zelda,” she lets go “it has been a pleasure meeting you.” Tiana gets up and leaves. I lay there happy, because now I knew her name.
Third period was nothing much. Just English, no big deal. Yet fourth period, was that of legends. P.E., gym, or Mr. Foots class, what ever one may say to pass the day and pain of this “have to take” class. But today I was blessed, because she my black beauty was there. Standing with her friends in the A pod, next to locker 69 - rolling up her right sock. I was already dress out, so I had two choices. Do I go out to the field and do the warm up, or shall I be bold and stand hear watching her get undress so that she could get dressed. I stay.
I stay five stapes behind Tiana as we ran the track field. Watching her a** bounce up and down, daze in her hips and thighs. The only thing that broke my focus, was the voice of her friend. “Hay?” she said to Tiana. “Is that white girl staring at your a**?” I panic, and just dropped, fail to my knees and laid on the ground, looking up. What have I done, was I finally found out? Did Tiana truly know how I felt toward her? As I looked up, darkness covered my vision of the sun.
“You’re weird.” Tiana spoke helping me up from the ground. We both stand in the middle of the track field alone looking at one another. “We need to stop meeting like this.” She said. “Yeah, if this keeps up, maybe we’ll fail for each other.” she looks at me. What did I say, why do words fall from my mouth as if my brain has no will. No control of my stupidity. “Yeah,” Tiana laughed grabbing my left wrist with her hand. “Here.” she lifts up my hand and takes out a pen. Tiana writes her number on my hand.
Was it possible, had I succeeded in my quest for her love? As Mr. Foot blows the whistle for us to come in, she walks away. I stand there looking at my hand, at her number. “F***.” I spoke, standing there still in the wind. “I’ve made a huge mistake.”
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 8 comments.
This was pretty creepy.
One question, why a lesbian shallow girl? Thats creepy how thrilled she was about the black girls breasts. But well written... I guess
1 article 0 photos 75 comments
Favorite Quote:
"I don't need easy, I just need possible!" ~Bethany Hamilton