Free Shine by Lauren Myracle Page B

her.
    “Huh?” we’d said.
    “Yes, that man acted ugly,” she told us in plain English. “But throwing more ugliness back at him ain’t the answer.”
    As a ten-year-old, I didn’t get it. “Still think you should tell the police on him,” I’d muttered.
    I took something more useful out of Mama Sweetie’s lessonnow, even if it wasn’t what she’d set out to teach. If I was patient, if I waited until I’d harnessed my emotions, then I might just manage to shame that college boy even worse than he’d shamed me.
    I studied him with the detachment I’d use if I was regarding a pile of deer droppings. He was handsome enough, or would have been if he hadn’t called me what he called me. He was tan, and he had strong forearms under the rolled-up sleeves of his plaid shirt, which he wore unbuttoned over his white T-shirt. His cargo pants fit the right way, and unlike the guys in Black Creek, he didn’t feel the need to let them hang off his butt. Instead of boots or sneakers, he wore flip-flops, which Tommy would have called gay.
    I was fairly sure this guy wasn’t, though. Gay.
    He caught me staring, and this time I didn’t look away. His mouth twitched nervously.
    That’s right
, I thought.
You
should
be nervous
.
    I smiled, and College Boy increased the distance between us, moving from the magazine display to the
manga
rack. I knew then that I’d shoved my shame down deep enough that I could function without bursting into tears. I knew, too, that he wished he hadn’t gone off on me. I could read it in his face. But too bad.
    I went over to him. My heart pounded.
    “You owe me an apology,” I informed him.
    “What?” he said, startled.
    “I
said
you owe me an apology.” I flicked my hair out of myeyes, which were a tawny brown like my mother’s. They gave people pause if they got a good look at them, and College Boy got a good look at them now. “For what you called me.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” College Boy said. Gone was his attitude, whatever that had been about, and in its place was . . . I wasn’t sure what. Remorse?
    It threw me off balance, but only for a moment.
    “Let me refresh your memory,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “You called me a
mountain nigger
. Now do you remember?”
    Heads turned in our direction. Lots of heads, all with shocked expressions. A young mother over by the picture books grabbed her toddler and hustled him away.
    Aware of our audience, I held out my arm and twisted it to show both sides. “I’m actually white, but I guess you’re too stupid to notice?”
    College Boy turned as red as the tomatoes in my garden. “W-wait,” he stammered. “No. I just . . .” His eyes darted from one glaring patron to another. “I never said that.”
    “You never called me a
mountain nigger
?” I said, making the library patrons bristle again. Every one of them was as white as I was, because there just weren’t any black people in Toomsboro. But for the most part, these were educated townies, and they didn’t like that word any more than I did.
    “Um, yeah, you did,” I said. “It was after I asked you not to cuss at the computer table, and you got mad and told me to mind my own business.”
    “What? I didn’t—“
    “And then you said you had one special word just for me,” I went on, wanting the people to hear me and not him. “Is it coming back to you? How you leaned down and called me a . . .”
    I broke off, because the little hairs on my arms were telling me I’d pressed my luck far enough. Plus, Miz Hetty was out from behind her desk and striding over.
    I swallowed. “Well, I’m not going to say it,” I said, even though I already had. Twice. “But actually, it was
two
words. You really are stupid, aren’t you?”
    College Boy looked scared. I thought,
Ha. See how it feels
? Only it gave me less pleasure than I’d expected.
    Miz Hetty reached us, and College Boy’s throat worked. He grabbed a graphic novel from