Uncomfortable Silence

Published in Revolve

Uncomfortable Silence

It is about noon and the heat is unbearable. Looking down at her arms, she sees that her skin is now a darker shade of brown. Her young legs take her everywhere in this small town and they too are darker. She wishes to put her long, black hair up.

With glistening brow and perspiring underarms, she makes her way through an apartment complex with white walls and chipped paint. She has entered the domain of several boys with shaved heads, some of whom she recognizes from school and a few that she hasn’t seen before. They stop their conversation abruptly as she approaches. Their silence makes her uncomfortable. Some of them look at her and then look away.

A rapid pulse is accompanied by fear. It subsides when she tells herself they are not really skinheads. Just young high school boys who think they are. She knew one of them, or had known one of them when she briefly dated his younger brother, who had briefly dated a girl everyone called Pocahontas. He hardly came around after he moved out of his mother’s house. Once, he grinned and handed her a joint, but now he says nothing to her. Just slouches against one of the walls, glancing casually at one of the other boys.

Her legs carry her passed the boys to the other end of the complex. When she is far enough away that she cannot see them but can still hear them, one of them lets out a whistle. The others laugh and their conversation resumes. She keeps on walking.