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In my town, Hay Street is the name of downtown. A simple street name that branches off into many other roads, most still bumpy and filled with potholes from its former days. It used to be that downtown, especially Hay Street, meant drugs, prostitutes, and daily shootings and knifings. Unless you wanted to get yourself killed by a random or racist shooting (better yet, by being knifed in the back), you didn't go downtown past dark. That was common knowledge. But if you were smart? You didn't go downtown--ever.
Sometime between the time I was born and now, Hay Street and the surronding areas downtown have been cleaned up. There's an old-styled theater, a few bookstores, bakeries, restaurants, internet cafes, and more than our fair share of festivals and events. This disappointed my mother, not because we didn't have a money to move (we did), but because she wanted to raise me in an unhealthy environment so that I'd get good grades in school and get the hell out of here. She didn't want me to be ungreatful for all that I had in life, even if it wasn't much. Don't get me wrong, it's still not all that safe at night, especially around the Greyhound bus stop and the library; drugs are still made and sold away from the common eyes, but it's a lot better than it used to be.
On this particular day, I'm walking home from another shitty day at E.E. Smith, my horrible high school. I could just drive but I use the one and only car that my mother and I share only for groceries and only on Saturday mornings--I don't dare drive to school due to the other fact that the car has a high tendancy to break down and I was not about to be stranded in the middle of downtown, especially with night so close; that's just asking to get raped. Oh, and there's the bus but that's where the small white population of the city tends to dwell and, even though I'm white, we don't exactly get along. There's yet another option: asking someone to take me home. I get offers daily but the offers are always from gang members who just want me to sleep with them.
"Hey, Cherie, how bout ridin with me? I promise I'll stop the car when you give me your all."
"Fuck off!" I yell, staring straight ahead. The guys in the car laugh and it peals off.
Case in point. Only most of the time, the things they say are a lot more crude.
I make it to the small white house a few minutes later, unlocking the door, only to find Jenna Holloway, my best friend, laying on the couch.
"How the hell do you get here so fast? Jack Britt's at least a twenty minute drive." Never mind the fact that she has a key.
"Malcolm brought me here." She nodded to her boyfriend who sat uncomfortably in the rocking chair, due both to the fact that the thing was as hard as a rock and the fact that he was never comfortable being in this part of town.
"Malcolm." I nodded to him. He nodded back.
As you can tell, we have a mutal dislike. I dislike him because he's a spoiled rich boy who gets everything he wants and he dislikes me because I'm "the ghetto white bitch" who, in his opinion, is just friends with Jenna because "Jen, honey, you're rich and popular and have the best boyfriend. She's just jealous of you and wants in." Like hell. Jen and I have been best friends since our moms met while working as nurses at the hospital when we were two, a hell of a long time before he came into the picture and before we even knew the difference between rich and poor.
Sensing the tension, Jen spoke up.
"Anyway, Cher, I came by to tell you that the Hope Mills Library rejected by application because I don't have enough experience. How the hell am I suppossed to have experience if no one ever gives me a chance? They need to go to--"
"Jen." I interupted.
She shook her head.
"Right, sorry. That's the bad news. The good news is that I'm now an official employee of Bojangle's!"
She smiled and I smiled back, giving her a quick hug before pulling back and scowling.
"That means I'll actually have to go there and order something sometime, doesn't it?"
She smacked me on the head.
"Hell yes! I expect you to order something at least once a week. When I'm working, of course. If I find out you came and I wasn't working, I'll have to kick your ass."
"But I'm poor! I can't afford Bojangle's once a week!" I whined.
She hit me again.
"Don't play that card! You have the money, your mom just has the unconviental idea of raising you in this hell hole."
"Only you." I mutter.
Jenna's the only one that knows this. Well, now Malcolm does too.
He sits up when he hears this.
"Really? You have money? I would have never thought that. I mean, your clothes are from Walmart, for heaven's sake."
I glared at him.
"How the hell do you know that?"
He pointed something on my jeans.
"The sticker's still on." He answered with a smirk.
I deepened my glare; I'd completely forgotten to take off the sticker. I don't have any close friends at school so everyone decided to let me suffer in silence, making comments without me realizing it. Bitches.
"You are so fucking lucky you're Jen's boyfriend. Otherwise, I would have no problem kicking you in the balls. Again."
Malcolm fell silent and I laughed.
Jen rolled her eyes.
"Cut it out, children. C'mon, Malcolm, Cher's got to be at the library in a few minutes."
With that, she took Malcolm's arm and dragged him to the backyard, where he'd hidden his expensive sports car. He sidestepped me as they passed, afraid I would make do on my offer, and I grinned.
When I heard the distinct sound of Malcolm's car in the distance, I locked the back door, and quickly straighted up, including getting the sticker off. A quick pony-tail and Library Don't-You-Dare-Call-Me-Chick shirt pulled on and I was hightailing it--by hightailing, I meant walking fast--to the Headquater's Library, where I work.
I was greeted with nods by the women at the checkin/out desk and I used the elevator to head up to the teen section.
"Hey Cher!" Finch, the head teen librarian and my fake-dad, greeted me.
"Hey!"
"So, we got new applications for jobs here, right?"
I nodded, remembering only vaguely, as I sat down at the computer and logged in.
Finch grinned.
"Meet Duncan Grey, your new partner."
One look at Duncan Grey and I knew my life was about to be a whole lot more complicated.
