Tuesday, August 27, 2019

Based on a true story...

Guest post by Sara Agard

I was five, sitting in the back seat of my mother's white minivan. She was taking me to school at 7:45 every day five days a week. It was a normal Tuesday morning, sunny and it was warming up. Spring was approaching. Pulling up to the school you could see the pale red paint peeling off of the rooftops. The fern green doors looked raggedy and it was almost time for them to be repainted again. The champagne-colored walls felt like sand whenever I would run my small palm over them as I entered the building.

Looking up at the big windows I stared at my reflection. My hair was standing up in puffs that were supported by four beaded hair ties. Two on each side. The pink and white orbs sparkling in the sun. I walked down the hall, my black leather flats clicking behind me. As I neared Ms.K’s classroom Leah Samson appeared from around the corner.

Her long dark brown hair with a hint of red falling over her shoulders. She had curled it today. She looked pretty. But there wasn’t a day when Leah didn’t look pretty. Her skin as pale as milk was covered in freckles and complimented her cherry rose cheeks. Leah was everybody's favorite. She skipped down the hallway her friends in tow. Even her uniform was standing out and made me quite embarrassed of my own. Everyone wanted to be Leah Samson. For she was perfect and who wouldn't want perfection.

I entered the classroom. Placing my bag on its assigned hook #13. Our desks sat in a square formation. I sat in the back four desks away, one on my right and three on my left. Directly in the middle, so I could see the board. The wood was chipping away slowly, day by day. Its oak polished surface didn't look so new anymore. The black paint covering the metal looked old and rusty. The chairs were hard and made my back stiff. Every 5 minutes I would find myself shifting in the seat. The girls on the right side of the square in the last 3 desks were talking about the games they should play at lunch.

Jessica Robertson looked up and asked if I would like to join. Of course, I said yes... it's Jessica Robertson. Luscious locks of black hair falling down to her hips. Her skin was pale but it complemented her hair and her green eyes. She was the sweetest girl at this school and definitely the smartest. Who wouldn’t want to hang out with Jessica? As soon as I accepted her invite, her friends giggled and snickered. They turned to one another and started to whisper. I didn’t understand what was so funny so I joined in on their laughter.

Lunch eventually came and I was so excited. Jessica had invited me to sit with her and what a delight! Everyone knew her wherever she would go. “Jessica, Jessica,” most people said “Sit with us” “Come hang out with us after lunch.” She was a celebrity around here and also just so happened to be Leah’s least favorite person or so I thought. I ran to the playground as soon as I finished my sandwich. I got on the swings with Jessica and the others. The breeze hitting my face as I laughed and smiled. I had finally made friends and I was happy.

We got bored and we decided we wanted to jump rope. Everyone knew how to double dutch. It was easy. I went to grab the orange rope lying on the ground when it was ripped from my grasp. Next thing I knew I was falling and then on the ground and felt the wood chips pierce my knees. They stuck to my palms and I could see the cuts they had left. I looked up, the blazing sun blocking my vision. A person stood in front of me blocking the sun. Leah Samson, of course. She would help me up. I figured she was going to reach out her hand like she did with others. That was until I saw the orange rope in her hand.

I opened my mouth but before I could start her voice echoed through the playground “You can’t play with this!” she yelled at me. Her once pale skin was now pink and her eyes were blazing with fury. I furrowed my eyebrows and asked in return "What are you talking about? Of course I can! It's school property; it isn't yours.” “NO!” Leah screamed as other girls gathered around. “Only white kids can play with these and you aren’t white. You aren’t one of us so go find your own toys!” She ended with a screech. My eyes started to tear up as the others nodded their heads in agreement with her. “Now we can't use it anymore because YOU touched it,” Leah exclaimed as she threw it back at me.

I could feel my eyes start to water. My vision getting blurry. I could taste the salt in my mouth and my chin started to wobble. I pushed myself up off the ground and ran. I heard their laughs and as I turned back I could still see them pointing and glaring. I ran and ran as far as my little feet could take me until I reached a fence on the opposite side of the playground. Her words kept repeating in my head. Over and over smacking me upside the head again an again.

I looked down at my hands. Parts of wood chips were inside the cuts that Leah had put there sticking out at awkward angles. Turning them other I started to sob once again. Looking at my brown skin which now had dust covering most of my arms. I wanted to be like the other girls and I wasn’t. My skin was too dark, I didn't like it and Leah certainly didn’t like it. I peered down at my legs and frowned. Wishing my complexion was just a few shades lighter and then maybe just maybe they would play with me. Reaching my hairs up I touched My kinky black hair. It wasn’t straight. I looked stupid today wearing the black puffs my mama had put in earlier that morning. I didn’t understand why I didn't look like the other girls. Why I was so ugly and hideous to them. Nobody wanted to play with the weird black girl. I hated my appearance at that moment. I hated who I was and I most definitely hated Leah Samson. I wasn’t good enough. So I questioned if I would ever be.

She had embarrassed me and everyone had watched. The looks on their faces replayed in my head over and over as I tugged on my hair. I wanted it gone. I wiped my arms and hands on my navy blue skirt wishing that the brown would go away. And then maybe, just maybe, the other girls would want to play.

Note from Bob: Sara is our adopted daughter who has been with us since she was sixteen days old. She is now a sophomore at Santa Fe High School.

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