Rosalie

The cruelty of a small town is how quickly news travels, and once it starts it doesn’t stop. My heart ached for the mother who wept in the street. She hollered her sons name over and over from what I hear. I also heard they had to carry her home, she couldn’t find the strength to walk. I do not bother go to the hill this week, I know it will be vacant. I know the grass will blow in the breeze but it will not form the shape of my lover. 

I am not proud of my family, who sneered at the pain of a mother simply for the touch of love between her son and a woman. In fact I wish I could draw myself inwards and separate myself from it all. School is ablaze with the gossip of how he looked, each telling more dramatic and grandeur than the last. I taste the familiar taste of blood within my cheek as I press down, unable to listen further. It was too close for me. To think of the pain of Ida going through that was enough to bring me to the bathroom during lunch, my stomachs contents hurling into the porcelain bowl over and over. I want to go to her, to comfort her- should such a thing even be possible now. I know it is not. 

“You okay?” Harris slides a chair out next to me and leans in. He has sat with me every day since the party. It is his presence that brings me small comfort through this ordeal. He picks up an apple and crunches into it and I nearly laugh as the juice dribbles down his chin. But I do not. It does not feel right to laugh. Not now, anyway. 

“Yeah. I was just thinking,” I tell him and he nods. He is used to the answer. It is the one that I always give. 

“Is it about that boy?” He asks as though he can read my thoughts like a book. Fear chokes up within me. It is a thin line between sympathy and danger in this town, and nobody is truly to be trusted. Nobody but myself, and my sweet Ida. But when I look at him there is something else- a question. I see it now. Are you like me? 

“Yes.” I whisper and his apple sits on his tray, abandoned. His gaze is fixated on me, trying to read my body language in the same way I am trying to read his. Neither of us makes a move to elaborate on the thoughts swirling within us. We only stare, and eventually his body relaxes. Hope has taken its place. Hope that maybe, we have found a comrade.

“Not here,” He says and I agree with him. This is not the place, not the people. The people around us were born of slave owners children. They would not understand that we all cry the same colored tears. We all bleed red blood. 

It is at the end of school when Harris tugs me aside by my sleeve and we fall into the shadow of the library wall. I try my best to not look terrified. I am not sure it works. If we are caught here there will be more gossip, and I am not ready for the questions my mother will have.

“You scared me,” I lecture him. He simply shrugs. 

“You know what happened was wrong, don’t you?” He wastes no time and I look around me before I nod. Tears spring forward and I do not bother to wipe them away. I will not hide my sadness from him.

“It was just awful. All over finding them together. That’s not right.” Bitter words spill from me and he reaches forward to wipe away a tear. “What is so wrong about being in love anyway? And he was so young! Who kills someone so young and just gets away with it? I hate them all. I hate them.” 

“I don’t know Rosa. All I know is it’s not right. I heard some people are going to march about it. Protest and stuff. Go with me?” Terror clutches within me once more and I retreat from him. I would be disowned if my mother ever found out. The town would shame us both. We would lose everything. His disappointment was palpable and I do not meet his eyes. 

“I thought you wanted things to change too,” He said finally and I seek his eyes out. He looks angry, wronged, sad even.

“I do-” I try and he holds up a hand. 

“You do not get it Rosalie. Things do not change without being made to. They will not listen until we are yelling. They will not see us until we are burning things in front of them. This is the only way to change things. There are two types of people, Rosa. Cowards and everyone else. Which one are you?” His words stung and I stared at him, my lip starting to hurt from me chewing on it. 

“I don’t know what to do.” I finally say and he sighs, his fingers running through his hair. 

“We are protesting in three days. Meet me here at noon.” 

“And if I don’t?” I did not want to let him down. I hated the fact he thought less of me. But he did not know my mother, did not know my father. If I were to meet him here and do this they would not forgive me. 

“You already know the answer to that.” He made it clear. If I went, my parents would leave me behind. If I did not, he would. 

He left the shadow first, a smile immediately placed on his face as he wrapped an arm around one of his friends. He was so carefree, a stark contrast to the brooding man that he had been thirty seconds ago. I smoothed the fabric of my dress and wiped away any sign of my emotional weakness from before and took a deep breath in. Squaring my shoulders back I stepped out into the sunshine, the bounce in my step and smile making sure that nobody could see that beneath my armor I could only weep.