“By the end of the day, I’m going to lose all my points.” I slumped down next to Greg, balling my hands into fists and resting them against my eye sockets, trying to stop the tears itching behind my eyes from flowing down my cheeks and ruining my tough girl reputation. “I don’t even get what the big deal is with my hair. Why do they care what my hair looks like? It doesn’t affect my grades in any way.”
“Here they want everyone to look like perfect little minions,” Greg said. “I’m not allowed to wear makeup. Haven’t you noticed how everyone conforms to a certain stereotype – rich, pretty, white. There’s a reason they chose us for the scholarships. They can at least claim to be diverse and get kudos for their ‘charitable deeds’ while making sure people like us are stomped back down where we belong.”
I studied Greg and the other scholarship students as if seeing them for the first time. Apart from Ayaz, Loretta and Andre were the only non-caucasian students in an ocean of white faces. As a mute, Andre was the only person with an obvious outward disability. The only other black people at this school were the staff. Add Greg’s open homosexuality and my poor upbringing and you had the token diversity panel.How gross.
I flashed back to the scholarship advisor, looking over my shabby clothes and poor neighborhood with barely-concealed glee. “You’ll find the school at the forefront of cultural politics,” she’d said. “We believe in lifting up those who haven’t had a privileged start in life.”
Sure you do. As long as we remember our place.
At lunchtime, I went back to my room to hunt out something else to cover my head. At the bottom of my suitcase I found another bandana – a blue one this time, an old one of Dante’s that he must’ve left at my place one day. It was so threadbare it was practically see-through, but it was better than nothing. I tied it on and rushed to the dining hall in time to hit the tail end of the buffet line.
“I can’t believe they let her in the dining hall like that. It can’t be hygienic.” Courtney strode past me in the buffet line and pretended to peer into my hair. “Yuck. I can see nits! Nits and beetles!”
“Nits and beetles!” Other students took up the chant. I focused on shoveling piles of quiche and salad onto my plate, not acknowledging her.If you ignore her, she’ll just go away.
But that wasn’t Courtney. Ignoring her made her angrier. She grabbed a handful of my hair, wrenching my head backward. I dropped the plate in my hands as I lost my balance and listed over. Ceramic shards flew everywhere and bits of egg and bacon stuck to my stockings.
“Nits and beetles! Nits and beetles!” The chant rang in my ears. My scalp burned as I clawed at Courtney’s hands, trying to free myself. Instead, she twisted her grip, tearing at my hair, and I howled with agony.
Hot, white pain arced through my scalp as Courtney dragged me backward. Ceiling beams swung above me as my whole world flipped upside down. She flung me around and slammed me hard against the end of the monarch’s table. My head cracked against the wood, and white dots flared across my vision.
“Don’t come near any of us ever again,” she hissed. “You’rediseased.”
More gobs of wet quiche slapped against my body as I dragged myself up. Students hurled food and abuse at me until I managed to stagger down the steps of the great hall. Their taunts followed me into the bathroom, where I scrubbed the food off my uniform as best I could. My temples throbbed from cracking my head on the table, and my whole head flared with fire. Clumps of torn hair came away in my hands.
A lump rose in my throat as I fought the urge to cry. I gulped several times, forcing down the bile that rose in my throat.
I’m not strong enough for this.
I leaned against the wall and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Dreadlocks fell over my face, the ends unraveling now that I hadn’t had them redone. Gobs of quiche clung to the thick locks.
I’d survived seventeen years living in the Philly Badlands – attending school with gang members, hiding alone in our apartment while I waited for my mom to get home from the strip club, being best friends with a black guy in a neighborhood where that could get you killed. I watched the two people I loved most in the world burn in a fire. I’d seen more in my life than Courtney Haynes could ever know.
Now I had the opportunity other kids in my neighborhood could never have dreamed of – a free ride at a prestigious school, a basically guaranteed spot at the college of my choice. Never in a million years did I ever expect to see my reflection staring back at me wearing an expensive private school uniform.
But the girl inside that uniform was still the same.
I didn’t fit here. I didn’t belong. Dressing me up in an ugly tartan skirt didn’t change the girl inside.
No matter how much I fought Courtney and Trey and all the other monarchs, it would never change the fact that they werebornfor this life and I’d landed here by luck. Outside of these walls, I didn’t have a name that inspired awe or a mansion in the right part of town or a close personal friendship with the president. These kids were going to grow up to run the country, theworld, and even if they had to stare at my face on the other end of a boardroom, I would still be the gutter whore who served their fries.
They were never, ever going to stop until I was back where I belonged.
I was my mother’s daughter. I hoped and I hoped and I put on a brave face and I pretended that things were better than they were. And I almost believed my own bullshit, until something like this happened and the cracks showed. Tears welled in my eyes.
“I miss you, Mama,” I whispered to my reflection, to the hazel eyes I inherited from her, the eyes she’d used to tempt a thousand men out of their one-dollar bills, the eyes that had inspired my name. I wished I could see her staring back at me, her lips curled into one of her secret smiles, her eyes crinkling at the edges, her arms wide open, ready to wrap me in a hug that could crush my ribs.
But all that looked out of that mirror was a sad, broken girl with no one and nothing left in the world.
Grief roared up inside me, hot like the fire that took her. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that they had everything and I had nothing. That they had the whole world and I was completely alone.
I pulled my arm back, and I slammed my fist into the mirror. Pain flared across my knuckles. The sound shattered the grief from my bones, the pain carving out the horror like a knife. The girl in the mirror disintegrated into a thousand tiny pieces.
Shards of glass littered the floor at my feet. I picked my way around them, heading for the door. Blood dripped down my knuckles as I bent down to examine a perfect triangle of glass, a single hazel eye staring back at me – not kind like my mother’s, but hard as flint.
Carefully, I picked up the piece of glass, folded it in one of the fluffy paper towels, and slid it into my skirt pocket.
Bring it on, Courtney. If you want to break me, then you’d better be prepared for a fight. And us gutter whores fight dirty.
