Chapter 1
Magnolia
"What's that racket?"
Screeched a child in my class. It was the sound of screaming, like terror. And
dogs barking. But then, there was music. It was the song, "We Shall
Overcome".
"Let us see!" Said
another. Reluctantly, the teacher took us outside.
"Stay close, we need to see
what's going on," she said. I could see her palms were sweaty as the
Alabama humidity clung to us. We walked down the street in a tightly knit mob,
looking out for danger. The source of the noise was a bunch of kids. They were
all over the streets, being bitten by dogs, sprayed with hoses, the big ones
which were attached to fire hydrants, but most kept singing. They kept singing
"We Shall Overcome". So I joined in.
"We're on to victory; we're on
to victory, we're on to victory someday; oh, deep in my heart, I do believe,
we're on to victory someday," I sang. The rest of the class started to
sing. We clapped our hands. As the beat carried on, I still sang. I closed my
eyes and walked. I walked over.
"Wait!" Shouted one of
the kids in my class. She ran towards me, I could hear her words getting
closer. Then the teacher screamed something. My class's singing had stopped.
Then I was tackled by one of the dogs. I put my arms to the side and fell. Its
teeth sunk into the skin of my abdomen, making me bleed a Marciano-cherry-red
blood. I finally opened my eyes. I looked up.
"Stupid nigger," said the
police officer holding on the police dog. Then the dog lunged for my face, but
I put up my hands. The German Shepard took a piece from my arm, almost biting
to the bone. I willed myself to get up, then stumbled towards my class. I kept
crawling, watching the giant dogs gravitate towards me. I finally got close
enough to my class for my teacher to race towards me and scoop me up. I don't
remember much after that.
"Did they wash it off,
already?" Momma asked, making the wash sound like whoa-sh.
"Yes," I answered.
"How'd you get home?" She
asked, dabbing a wash cloth at the wound on my arm.
"Sam took me," I said, my
southern accent almost mimicking hers. Only, mine was much higher. Then she
wrapped my arm with a bandage and went to cleaning my abdomen. She wrapped a
bandage on that also. Then Momma tucked me into my bed and kissed my forehead.
"How do you feel?" She
asked.
"Fine," I told her.
Though, I was bleeding and in much pain, I felt okay.
"Call me if you need
anything," instructed Momma. I nodded. Momma walked out of my room and
went to do something in the kitchen, probably fixing dinner. Sam came in,
next.
Sam was my brother and he was 4
years older than me. He was 12, and in 7th grade, which means middle school.
The middle school was right next to e elementary school. The school where Sam
went was called Lakeview Middle School. During the day, I never saw Sam.
But, we walked to school together.
“You okay?” Sam asked.
“Yep,” I told him.
“I saw you out there. Why’d you
walk out there? It was cool, just curious,” Sam responded.
“I believe in their cause. If I
believe in something, I will stand up for it. Wouldn’t you?”
Sam
Magnolia’s question was troubling
for me. I wasn’t sure that believing meant standing up for what you believe in.
Then again, I wasn’t sure about the differences between faith and belief. On
that note, I left Magnolia there. I had to think. But, more importantly, I had
homework.
“How’s Magnolia doing?” Questioned my mother
when I came over to the kitchen table. Technically, it wasn’t a kitchen table,
more of a in-between-living-room-and-kitchen table.
“She seems to be doing well,” I
responded. From her response, she seemed fine. But, Magnolia was a fighter;
mentally and physically. But, she was also not the type to share much
information about herself with anyone. When she felt sad, hurt, or angry, you
couldn’t tell. She always told you she was feeling alright.
“That’s good,” said my mother.
After she got back to her gumbo making, I reached for my backpack and got out
my Arithmetic homework. I finished that quickly, then started on my English.
After the teacher had been notified
about the whole “shooting children with water while they sang” incident that
Magnolia was involved in, she told us to write our experience with it. Of
course, I wrote about how Magnolia’s experience affected me. I ended up going
with this.
The incident that occurred today
affected me because my sister was involved. First, she was hurt. I watched my
mother clean up her wounds and checked to see if she was okay. Second, I had to
pick her up. I was excused from class to bring her home because our mother was
at work. Last, her experience made me think about my beliefs. Since she stood
up for what she believed in, I thought about whether or not I should stick up
for the things I believe in. All in all, this whole chaos was very stressful
because of the effect it had on my sister.
I shoved the paper that I had
written the paragraph on in my backpack and went over to Momma.
“How’s gumbo coming?” I asked. I
looked at the pieces of chicken of vegetable scattered on her cutting board and
dumped in the pot of broth on the stove.
“Fine, darling,” she said, as she
kept adding more ingredients into the boiling concoction. I looked around at
our messy kitchen. There were boxes of everything, stray pieces of food, trash,
and dirty dishes piled up all over. It made the working environment, at least
for me, impossible. But, for Momma, it worked. She could put food on the table
and she could do it in impeccable timing. As I saw the great functionality of
Momma’s cooking, I left her alone. Soon enough, it was time for dinner. Momma
put out the bowls and ladled soup into them. 3 ceramic bowls were spread out
around the table for Momma to ladle into. I sat down first while Momma went to
fetch Magnolia from her room. Momma sat down next. Then, Magnolia slowly
arrived. Dinner was slow, but fabulous. Momma’s gumbo, as always, tasted great.
I was glad to see that Magnolia was feeling better. That was all I wanted for
her, a better state of health, rather than the one she had.
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