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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

There was no Civil Rights Movement. There were no Freedom Riders. There were no “Little Rock 9”. Rosa Parks gave up her seat on the bus. Martin Luther King Jr didn’t have a dream.
It’s the year 2014 and negroes still must sit in the back of the bus, drink from different water coolers, and attend separate schools from the whites.
The West Coast. That’s what everyone calls California, who is the only state that isn’t racist.
Once a year, a random drawing in California takes place where one school is chosen to be integrated. In 2010, Northeast High School in Brighton, Alabama was chosen at random.

Before

Chapter 1
I was sitting in Mrs.Martin’s fourth period senior math class on a windy October day. My eyes were looking towards the board, but my mind was somewhere else. I could smell the new coat of polish that had been applied to the hard wood floors of the classroom. I was twirling my long, dark brown flat-ironed hair around my short and skinny fingers. The soft hair slipped out of my fingers and fell in front of my round face, slightly grazing my narrow nose.
    Mrs.Martin startled me by placing her boney left hand on my shoulder. I followed her down the aisle in between our desks and out the classroom door. I stood there in the hallway, terrified that she was going to tell me I would no longer be allowed to attend Northeast Alabama High School. I felt my heart began to race as I thought of all I had been through the last three years, and how it could all have been for nothing if the white folks got what they wanted.
I was forced to snap to attention when Mrs.Martin began speaking.
“I know this may be a lot to ask,” each word catching in her throat as she spoke, ”but I really need you to tutor a student of mine.”
I stood there completely stunned. I’m not sure if I should be relieved that I’m not being forced to go back to Washington High, or even more terrified that I would soon be forced to interact with a white folk. 
“Who’s your student?” I questioned.
“Jeremy Filt.” She said with her voice trailing off.
“You can’t be serious. His family refuses to   accept the fact that I even breathe the same air as him, you think they’re going to allow me to tutor him?” I half shouted, not wanting the teachers and students from the nearby classrooms to hear me through the thin walls.
“You’ll have Phil.” She replied, her tone of voice almost at a beg.
“He only protects me at school,” she could clearly hear the annoyance in my voice, “as soon as I get home, he’s gone, and I’m on my own”
Mrs.Martin calmly replied, “I can understand your frustration Katherine, but to be truthful, you don’t have a choice.”
I felt the shocked expression grow on my face. Mrs.Martin noticed that, because she immediately continued speaking.
“Oh not like that darling, you’re a bright girl, and you will go to college. Your lack of extra curriculars are concerning to me, I can’t imagine what Stanford might think of them.”
I thought of our conversation one day at lunch about how it was my dream to attend Stanford University. She remembers, she cares. I chuckled at the thought of a white teacher caring for a black student.
“It’s not like I choose to have so little extra curriculars, I’m forced. I went to every single club in the school, and not a single one of them took a second glance at me before they slammed the door in my face.” I explained to her.
“People, things, everything, everything is changing Katherine. You may not know it yet, but they are.”She spoke with a comforting smirk on her face, then walked back into her classroom with the kind of confidence I could only someday hope to have.
Chapter 2
I slowly made my way to Mrs.Martin’s classroom after school. I am terrified. How am I expected to help Jeremy when his parents are in th- oh gosh, I can't even say it. It’s just so terrible. How did Mrs.Martin ever get him to agree to this?
I tell Phil that I’ll be ok and he can just meet me back here in an hour to walk me home. I turn away from him and I open her creaky door and see Jeremy sitting out one of the desks in the front row. He must hear the door creak because before I can even take a single step into the classroom he glances over at me and smiles. I stop three steps into the classroom, not sure of what I should do. After an unbearably awkward moment, Mrs.Martin finally sees me and tells me to a pull up a chair next to Jeremy.
I slowly walk to the wall and grab a chair. As I drag it across the room it makes a deafening screech against the old hard wood floors. I sit in the seat and slightly lean my body towards his so I can see what he has written in his notebook. I’m not shocked by his blank piece of paper, but more by the fact that he smiled at me.
We sat there in silence for a while until I finally mustered up enough confidence to be the one to break the silence,
“I will only tutor you Monday through Thursday”
“No Friday?” he said jokingly.
“On Fridays and weekends I work pulling weeds at the old cemetery on 5th street.” I replied to him with an unintentional harsh tone.
He looked stunned, almost hurt. He quickly snapped back to his usual handsome self and began reading the first problem of tonights homework assignment.
As soon as the hour was over I said the most polite goodbye I could get out and fled the room as fast as I could. I walked out the door and grabbed Phil’s wrist all in one motion. I dragged him down three flights of stairs and a block away from the school before I finally doubled over and caught my breath.
“Katherine,” Phil said with concern, “is everything okay?”
“No!” I shouted back at him, “I am currently being forced to tutor a boy! A boy whom I have gone to ridiculous measures to avoid. And do you know why I’m avoiding him? His parents! His goddamned parents are in the Ku Klux Klan.”
Phil’s face was overcome with a look of concern for me.
“I would never let anything happen to you.” His voice almost sounded hurt by the fact that I didn't trust him to protect me.
“I know you would,” I tried to sound as sincere as possible, “but you can’t blame me for being afraid. I dont even feel safe in my own house because of people like him.”
He hesitated before he spoke, but finally he said, “Well, if we want to be fair, he may not have the same beliefs as his parents.”
“How could he not have the same views as his parents?”
“For example,” he spoke softly, “your mother believed it was best for her to leave when things got hard, but that doesn’t mean you believe people should do that.”
I looked him in the eye, stood straight up, and continued my walk home with Phil always a few short paces behind me.
I lie in bed reading, but I finally shut my book in frustration from not being able to concentrate. I can’t stop thinking about what Phil said to me on our walk home this afternoon.
I had judged Jeremy on the only three thing I knew about him- white, with whom his parents are affiliated with.
I absolutly hate when people judge me solely on my skin color, so why did I think that was ok to do the exact same thing to Jeremy? But could I really be so naive as to think that he was all for sitting next to blacks at the lunch counter? I suddenly felt the need to to slap myself across the face for continuing to judge him. I’m so angry with myself for being the typical type of person that I have come to hate.
I have decided that tomorrow I will try my hardest to not be so obvious about how uncomfortable I am around him. Today he was polite and pretended not to notice, but there’s no way he didn’t.

Chapter 3
I sit in my first period spanish class terrified. This is the only class where Phil has to come into the class and stand next to me. If he doesn't, the kids spend the entire class throwing small pieces of crumpled up balls into my hair and spitting straight at my face. Even with Phil’s presence, the class is still on the verge of being unbearable. The worst part is, the teacher doesn’t make an attempt to stop the kids. I sometimes tell Phil that if he weren't a member of the faculty he would probably join in with the kids. Phil always tells me that’s absurd because only narrowed minded adults would ever partake in such ridiculous behavior. But Mr.Sanchez was one of the protesters on my first day of school here freshman year, so I don't plan on changing my theory anytime soon.
Even though they’re only 58 minutes each, all my classes seem to last a decade today. When the final bell rings, I make my way to Mrs.Martin’s classroom and find that I have arrived before Jeremy. I sit in the same spot where we sat yesterday and take out my notebook and a pencil. I’m only waiting there for a couple of moments until I hear the classic creak of her door and see Jeremy walk in.
“Sorry I’m late,” he says, “Mr.Johnson doesn’t really understand the whole concept of letting his students leave when the bell rings.”
I laugh. “It’s fine, I’ve only been here for a couple of minutes.”
He sits down at the desk next to me and pulls out his textbook and a piece paper and a pencil. Throughout the entire tutoring session, he leans in to see my work and each time he does I get a quick whiff of his pine smelling cologne.
I glance at the clock and see that the hour is almost up. I’m tempted to pack my things and get away from this classroom as fast as I can just as I did yesterday, but then I remembered what I had promised myself I would do, I would be calm and relaxed. It took every ounce of my self control to pack up my things calmly, say goodbye, and quietly walk out the door.

Chapter 4
It was a typical, hot and humid September day. I was sitting in my seventh period art history class chewing on my yellow wooden pencil waiting for the final bell to ring. As soon as it did, I grabbed my notebook and walked quickly out the door where Phil was waiting for me.
We walked down the hall and out the side door of the school in silence and I thought about my first day at Northeast Alabama High School just over two years ago.
It had been a hot, muggy day in late August and I was wearing my new powder blue dress that I had paid the old lady next door a whole twenty bucks to make for me. I could hear the protesters before I could even see the school. When I saw the school, I saw the hundreds of white folks holding signs and chanting, “2, 4, 6, 8, we don’t want to integrate!” Before I could even take it all in, someone had grabbed my shoulder and before I knew it I was being shoved into the school through the side entrance. I looked up at the face who had possibly just saved my life, he was wearing a U.S.A. Marines suit. When I made eye contact with him, he extended his arm and said,
“Hey there, my name is Phil. I will be your US marines negro supervisor, which is just a fancy term for saying that I’ll be looking after you during your next four years here.”
I come back to attention when I realize we’re almost to my house. I tell Phil he could go and that I would be fine from here.
“C’mon, you know my job is to walk you’re pretty face all the way to your house.”
I blushed. “Phil,” I laughed, “This is an all black neighborhood, this is one of the few places I actually feel safe. I’ll be fine, I promise.”
He hesitated, but eventually he gave in and started walking back towards the direction of the school. I continued walking a couple blocks down the street until I was standing in the dirt that sat in front of my house where a lawn should actually be. I grabbed our spare key from under a flower pot on the porch and let myself into the house.
I walked into the house and went straight to my room to change into an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I locked the door and grabbed my rusty old bike and started making my way to the old cemetery in which I worked.
It took me the usual time of ten minutes to arrive at the back gate. I stash my bike in an old broken-down shed on the outskirts of the cemetery. I make my way to the first grave, crouch down, and begin pulling out the weeds that have grown in since the last time I had made my rounds to this section of the grounds.
It has been several hours since I began plucking weeds and my back aches from crouching down for so long. I begin to feel the dryness conquer my throat from the dehydration from crouching down in the sun for the past three hours.
I stand up to try to give my back some relief. Throughout the past three hours I have moved more towards the middle of the cemetery. I stand still with my eyes lightly shut, taking in the fresh smell of the trees and the cushioning feeling of the thick grass underneath my shoes.
When I open my eyes I spot a familiar looking figure across the grounds. I attempt to get a better look at the person by leaning forward on my toes and squint my eyes slightly. The person cocks his head back and stares into the cloudless sky, and that’s when I realize it’s Jeremy Filt.
I try to scram away, but I’m not quick enough, he looks in my direction, and our eyes lock. Damn. I’m not sure what I should do. I know him, so do I walk over to where he is and say “hello.”? Or do I just leave him there in peace? He is crouching down over a grave after all, the man may want a little privacy.
“I should walk over,” I whisper to myself, “say hello, be polite. Nobody is around, no one will see.”
I begin with small slow strides in his direction but as my confidence gradually grows I start to pick up my face and stand up taller, making eye contact with Jeremy the entire time.
I am now at his side looking down on him. I immediately see his red, puffy eyes and his snot-filled tissues that are overflowing the pockets of his suit.
“Hi,” he whispers.
“Hey there,” I reply.
“I’m not stalking you, I swear.” he jokes. “I jus- it’s just I- I come here every Friday to visit my mom.” he chokes on his words and his eyes fill with tears and I see them spill out onto his cheeks and slowly trickle down his soft pale skin until they fall onto the bright green grass.
“I’m so sorry.” I comment as I squat down next to him and place a sympathetic hand on his knee.
We remain in silence for the next several minutes, staring at Lee Ann Filt’s shiny gravestone.
Jeremy stands up, wipes his eyes, and shoots me a shy smile.
"My shift is over, I better get home" I state as I walk away. When I'm just a few steps away, Jeremy stops me.
"Hey," he begins, "let me walk you home."
"Oh, wow, uhm-that's uh-wow-." I stutter like an idiot, "it's oka- you really don't ne-. I'm fine, thank you though." Idiot. Really? How difficult is it to speak?
"Yes I do," he states, "c'mon, lead the way"
I lead him through a series of backstreets, trying to avoid the main streets and all of the people on them, not just for my safety, but for his too. What would people do to him if they saw a white man walking with a colored woman? What would his dad do? I feel uneasy just thinking about this.
“Why did you decide to come to Northeast?” he asked.
     “Well,” I had to think about it, because I wasn’t really sure myself, “I guess I just wanted a better education. At Washington, I got along with the people better, I even had some friends,” thinking of my past friends made me chuckle but also mad at the same time, “but the teachers just don’t teach you that well. I was bored. I needed more.”
“Wow.” he responded.
“What?” I questioned, afraid he was going to think I was ungrateful.
“I just wasn’t expecting an honest answer,” he replied, “I don’t get a lot of those these days.” he talked with the tone of voice that could make a kid in the candy shop sad. I felt bad for him, I wasn’t really sure why, but I did.
We walked in mostly silence until we had made our way to my small white house.
“Well, this is me.” I stated. “Thanks for walking me home, I’ll see you Monday.”
I was already past the three stairs that led up to my porch, reaching for the hidden key when  I heard Jeremy’s voice.
“Hey!” he boasted, “let me take you to dinner, tonight.”
I looked at him with an expression on my face that could make Albert Einstein feel like an idiot.
“No,” I declared.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because we can’t” I stated.
“Why not?” he responded.
“We just can’t.” I half shouted.
“Why?” he exclaimed, “Why the hell can’t I take a beautiful girl that I happen to very much like to dinner?”
I blushed at the fact he thought I was beautiful. I blushed at the fact he just admitted to liking me, perhaps without even realizing it.
“You know why we can’t. People would see, people would stare, people would question it. And then the whole situation just gets really messy, for the both of us. I’m sorry Jeremy, I just can’t.” I grabbed the key,unlocked the door, and went inside.
I ran to my room and slammed the door. I flopped on my bed, already in tears. Why do things have to be like this? God, what I would give to be able to sit in a diner and have dinner with Jeremy.
I awoke in the middle of the night to the light pitter-patter of the rain. I glanced at my clock which read 2:08am. I heard something hit my window, and i scrammed under the bed as fast as I could. That’s what Dad always told me to do, if you hear anything strange, hide. I heard a voice saying my name in a low whisper.
“Katherine!” the voice spoke softly, “Katherine are you awake?”
      I crawled out from under my bed and peaked out the window. I saw a figure casting a long shadow onto the ground behind him. As my eyes adjusted, I realized the figure was Jaremy.
"What in the world do you think you're doing?" I questioned.
“I’m here to take you to dinner.” He joked.
“It’s two in the morning.” I stated.
He looked at the nonexistent watch on his wrist, “Indeed it is,” he declared, “I’m headed to my favorite spot in the town, and I’d like you to accompany me.”
I thought about it for minute, and then I unhooked the six latches that kept my window screen in place and leaned it against the wall inside of my bedroom. I grabbed a sweatshirt and slipped on some jeans and stuck my feet into some old boots. I hopped out the window and sauntered my way to Jeremy’s car where he had propped his body up against the passenger side door. He smiled as he saw me approaching.
“Now why in the world would you be up at this hour young lady? What kind of horrible person interrupts someone’s beauty sleep?” he laughed.
I shook my head at him and gave him a playful nudge that caused him to shift his position and lean against the car a little harder. He stepped back and opened the door for me and I slid into the passenger seat. He strolled around the hood of the car and sat in the driver's seat and began to drive.
Neither of us spoke as he guided his car through the empty streets. I heard him clear his throat and speak,
“So,” he started to explain, “I’ve never really taken anyone where I’m about to take you. But I think you’ll really like it, love it actually.”
I smiled at him and wondered where he could possibly be taking me. I placed my forehead against the window and looked at the empty town, and all the beauty that it held.
Before I knew it, we were perched high up on a mountain overlooking the city. Jeremy got out of the car and pulled a large blanket out of his trunk. I watch him as he lays it across the hood of his car and motions for my to come join him. I help him stretch the blanket flat across the hood and we both sit on it. He reaches down towards the ground and reveals a brown paper sack with hamburgers and french fries. I laugh at him but he just smiles at me, waiting for me to smile back.
We lay on our backs, eating out nearly cold burgers and fries, admiring how truly beautiful the stars are. I’ve always liked them, the stars. They’re always there, every single night after the sun sets. They’re reliable, and I like that.
I finish my burger and relax my arms down beside my body. I feel Jeremy softly grasp my hand and it give it a light squeeze.
“I hate the way things are.” Jeremy stated.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“The way people think it’s okay to exclude everyone that doesn't look a certain way,” he shouted, “it’s just so stupid. It’s twenty-goddamn- fourteen and racism isn't just something we talk about in history class.”
“I thought-,” I hesitated, “I always thought you had similar views as your father.”
“I could never be as stereotypically narrow minded as him.” he scoffed.
“Oh, sorry, I sort of just assumed,” I spoke softly, “but I guess that was really wrong of me.”
“Dont feel bad,” he laughed, “I think that’s what most people think about me, and I hate it, but that’s okay. It’s May and in late August I’ll hopefully be somewhere on the westcoast.”
“Why the West?” I asked, but the truth is, I already know the answer. In the West, people aren’t racist, they all live together in peace.
“I want to go to the West because that’s where Ms.Martin told me you were heading.” he learned his head in my direction when he answered me. I noticed the small grin on his face.
I smiled. I smiled big. We lay there on the oversized blanket spilling over the edge of his car. our shoulders slightly grazing one another with each inhale and exhale, my small hand interlaced with his strong one. 

Chapter 5
I wake up cold and in need of another blanket. I hate the winter. Everything is just too cold for my liking. I lay in bed thinking about Jeremy for a few moments. I’m so shy and my only friend is my sixty year old math teacher, while he’s so outgoing
I walk into the kitchen still half asleep. I put a piece of bread into the toaster and say my morning hello to my dad. I hear the piece of bread pop out of the toaster as I’m pouring my cup of coffee. I quickly spread a layer of jam onto it and down the entire slice in three large bites.
I stare at my closet deciding what I want to wear today. When I finally decide, I spend my typical 28 minutes getting ready. I walk out the front door of my house. I look down and see that the mail has already arrived. That’s weird. The mail doesn't normally come until around eight-thirty in the morning, and it’s only seven-fifteen. I pick up the thin stack of envelopes and turn around to put them inside before I lock the door. As I walk inside, I begin to flip through the mail. When I see “Stanford” printed in thick red letters in the top right corner of one of the envelopes, I let out a small squeal of excitement.
“Is everything alright, honey?” my dad questions concerningly.
“Yeah, I just got my paycheck, that’s all.” I lie.
I begin to open the envelope but then I stop myself. Shouldn't I wait for Jeremy? He’s been listening to me go on and on about how much I have been anticipation this envelope, the least I can do is have him be there when I open it.
I go to my room and slide the fate of my entire future under my faded pink pillow.
I walk back to the front of my house and lock my front door as I step out onto the porch. I begin to walk down the steps when I spot Phil. He is standing on the edge of the sidewalk with his back to me.
“Hey there bud.” I say to try and get his attention.
He whips around quickly but when he realizes it’s me, he flashes his outrageously white teeth at me when he smiles.
“How are you doing on the fine morning?”
“Well I’m alright dear, how about yourself.” I try to speak with a thick Southern accent to try and make him laugh, but it comes out as more of a wobbly high-pitched voice of a five year old, which ends up making him laugh even more.
We walk along our typical route to the school until we are outside the side entrance door. I inhaled a large breathe and gave an overly dramatic loud exhale as I turned the nub on the door and leaned my body against it to push it open.
I don't know how it's possible for me to love school yet hate it so much at the same time. I dread seeing the same unkind and judgmental faces everyday. They way they look at me, it makes me feel as if I'm of another species, not even human. The education I get though, it makes me believe it's all worth it. Every time someone attempts to to push me down the stairs or spit in my face, I simply close my eyes and picture myself in a lecture hall at Stanford. I think of it as my own little ritual.
Phil and I stroll through the hallway to my first period classroom. The door is locked, as usual. Teachers are never on time at Northeast, it’s as though they view being punctual as a crime. I shift my weight and lean my body on the rusty blue lockers that are built into the walls. I stand there with my head slightly resting on the lockers, dreaming of Stanford and how amazing it will be.
“Scram off that locker, punk!” a deep voice shouted at me.
I quickly opened my eyes to see a tall, built male hovering over me. A look of terror washes over my face.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize this was your loc-”
“It isn’t,” he cut me off, “idiot. Negros just shouldn't be allowed here, this school isn’t mean for the colored, go back to Washington.” He speaks with such variation in his voice and every other a word a little bit of his spit landed on my face.
“Sorry” I said softly as I begin to back away from him.
He snapped around and snatched my shoulders in one quick motion, my feet gliding across the hallway floor and ramming me into the lockers that lined the wall on the other side of the hallway. I feel the pain of my back and head slamming against the locker with the kind of force I didn’t even know was possible.
“You dont belong here!” he screamed at me.
I couldn’t say anything, I knew what he’s saying to me, and I knew I was supposed to say something. People are beginning to see the commotion and begin to gather. A few of the girls look away in sympathy, but most of them either urge him on or just stand there. Either way, they’re all doing the same thing, nothing.
“Answer me!” he continues to shout, “Look at me!”
I dont know what to do, I’m in a completely different state of mind, I don’t comprehend what’s actually happening. I feel the man’s force disappear and I slide down the lockers until I am on the ground, my back slumped on the lockers.
I see Jeremy, he has the man pinned on the ground, but I’m still in too much of a daze to realize what this means. I have an excruciating headache and feel extremely sleepy. I begin to close my eyes, my vision becoming blurry, my ears ringing.

Chapter 6
I wake up laying on a stiff bed with a thin pillow that reeked of mildew. I’m  in a room with a chipping white paint on the walls with health posters crookedly taped to them and an unusually dim light shining above my head. I realize I’m in the nurse’s office. I try to roll onto my back but I groan from pain and realize my back is already beginning to bruise from being smashed into the lockers. I roll onto my other side in an attempt to ease the pain.
“You’re finally awake.” A voice says from the bed next me. I would turn around, but I already know the voice belongs to Jeremy.
“What are you doing in here?” I ask.
“You think I could go to class while you’re rotting away in the hostile environment that is the nurse’s office?” he asks rhetorically.
“And what exactly did you tell the nurse?” I questioned.
“I said that Jake had knocked me in the jaw and that  I had a really bad headache and wanted to lie down.”
I laughed and looked at him funny because there is no way the nurse could be that stupid.
“Oh, god no, she didn’t believe me at all. The chic totally knew I was faking it. I’m pretty sure she just thinks I wanted to get out of class. When I told her, she gave me a questioning glare for a moment or two and then she just shrugged her shoulders and pointed me towards the direction of this room.”
I giggled at his responses, Jeremy joined in on the laughing and soon we were both experiencing an uncontrollable cackle. Our laughter slowly died down after a couple of minutes until we were both completely silent laying breathless on our beds that sat next to eachother. I heard the springs of his bed squeak as he stands up and walks over to my bed.
He sits in front of my stomach. He places a hand on my back and begins to lightly stroke my back up and down.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, “You hit your head pretty hard when he slammed you against the lockers.
“You saw it all happen, and you didn’t think to do anything?” I asked, I’m hurt. “Did you not think it was a good idea to pull the jerk off of me?!” my voice began to turn into a scream.
“I was the one that pulled that guy off of you, don't you remember?” he asked worriedly.
“Oh-uhm, uh, no. I guess I don't remember.” I tremble as I speak, “Where was Phil when this was all happening? I remember him being right at my side.”
“He got knocked out too, pretty bad actually. Some dude tried to right hook and when he dodged it, another guy came up and socked him right in the back of the head. His head started bleeding and he almost refused to go to the hospital because he wanted to stay in here with you to make sure you were alright. I told him I would stay with you and that finally convinced him to go.”
“Oh.” Out of all of the words there are in the English dictionary, that’s the only one I’m able to think of.
“Katherine, let me take you to the hospital, please.” He begs.
“You and I both know they won’t do anything for me there. I probably have a small concussion,at the worst. I’m fine, seriously.” I explain to him.
“ ‘Slight concussion’,“ he smirks as he quotes me, “that sounds so good when you say it. I bet it’ll sound even better when you’re a Stanford graduate and are working in the hospital you will be managing. And at night you come home to our mansion with our two kids.” 
I begin to laugh so hard that I can barely get enough breath into my lungs, “I’m not sure how you got all of that from ‘slight concussion’, but that sounds amazing.” I smile.
“Will you at least let me walk you home?” he asks.
“Of course,” I smile, “can we leave now?” I ask.
“We can leave whenever you want.” He speaks with the kind of kindness in his voice that you can’t help but know he genuinely means what he is saying.
I glance at the clock and see that school isn’t out for another two hours, I’ve missed all my classes so far today, what’s two more?
Jeremy helps me up from the stiff bed. He grabs my things and we quietly walk out of the nurses office, hoping she won’t notice us walk out, she doesn’t, idiot.

Chapter 7
The moment I step out of the air conditioned school, I take a large inhale of the moist spring air. Jeremy sees the big grin on my face.
“Why so happy?” he questions.
“Why are you not so happy?” I giggle as I lightly tap my right index finger against his slender nose.
“It’s a beautiful world,” I continue, “and there’s just so many things to be happy about.” I take another deep inhale of the warm air, and smile as I feel it fill my lungs.
“What is there to possibly be happy about?” he scoffs, “This small town, what’s good about it? The people are mean, racist, and don’t care about anything but themselves.”
“Yeah, but this town is home.” I emphasize, “That overgrown tree in front of Washington School, that was a project done by my 3rd grade class. And the old cement in front of my house is where I first learned to ride a bike, and then my wheel got caught on the uneven cracks in the cement and I fell. And that’s how I got this.” I told him as I pushed back the hair along my hairline to show him a 10-year old scar. “This place may really suck sometimes, but it’s home, and you can’t hate your home.”
He stops and he just stands there, smiling at me.
“You’re clearly the more optimistic of the two of us.” He states as he wraps his left arm around my back and gives me a quick peck on the lips. He pulls away and gives my hand a quick squeeze.
“Will you come over to my house?” he asks.
“What?!” I exclaim, pulling my hand away from his, “What kind of idiot thoughts run through your head everyday boy?”
“My dad, he’s not even in town. And my maids, I get along well with them, they won’t tell my father, they hate him.”
“I still don't think it’s a good idea.” I respond as I shake my head and look down at the ground, “Your neighbors, they could see too. I want to, I really do. It’s just that there’s too many things that might go wrong.”
“Please.” He begs.
“No.”
“Please.” He asks again, forming a fake disappointed look on his face.
“Fine. But you’ll be dropping me off in your alleyway, and I’ll go in through the back.” I say sternly.
We drive through the streets of Brighton with my laying on my stomach in the backseat of Jeremy’s car. As he turned into what must have been his alley, I felt the rode become extremely bumpy. I figured the rode must have been made of a gravel-like material.
I felt the car slow to a stop.
“Alright, you can come out now.” he stated.
“Is it clear?” I asked.
“Yes” he replied.
“Are you sure?” I questioned once more.
“Yeesss.” He responded, dragging out each syllable showing his annoyance.
“Alright then.” I replied nervously.
I peaked my head up from the back seat and took a second look out his tiny back seat windows. I slowly climbed over the leather seat into the front. I cautiously open his passenger side door and place my shoes on the dusty gravel. Jeremy gets out of the car and quickly punches in some numbers that must be the code to the back gate, because it begins to move on it’s wheels backwards.
“I’m going to pull around front and park my car in the garage, just wait by the back door, ok?”
“Got it.” I reply.
I turn my back towards Jeremy and begin walking past the gate. I hear the gravel in the road moving behind me under the weight of Jeremy’s car driving over it. I take three cautious step and now I am on the grass of his enormous backyard.
I spin in a small circle, admiring his beautiful backyard. On all of sides of me, there is bright green grass draped over the small hills of his oversized backyard. Lining the edges near his gate  there are gorgeous, healthy flowers in dirt that is probably worth more than my entire existence.
“You coming in, or what?”Jeremy asked, unable to suppress his laughter.
I didn’t even bother replying to him. I slowly bent down to the ground until I was in a low crouch. I hesitantly touched the healthy grass and ran my fingers through it, feeling each strand in between my fingers.
“This is amazing.” I say, still awe-struck.
Jeremy walks over and kneels down next to me.
“You know, you really didn't need to go in through the back, there was nobody in the front.” he states.
“Of course I did. If there had been someone, we would have been screwed.” I reply.
“You’re not listening to me,” he responds, “there wasn’t anyone out front.”
I look at him suspiciously. I think about what he’s saying, what in the world is he even trying to say? Then it hits me. There was nobody out front because he doesn’t have any neighbors. There weren't enough wealthy people in Brighton to populate even 10 houses like this one. Jeremy’s house was isolated, his closest neighbor was nearly a mile down the road. When I realize this, I give him a playful punch on the top part of his muscular right arm.
“You could have told me you don’t have any neighbors.” I jokingly shout at him.
“Hey,” he said as he threw his hands up in the air in surrender, “you’re the one that insisted on hiding on our ride here.”
“Gosh,” I say, still admiring how large his house is, “how did I not notice though.”
“Well,” he begins, “I may be wrong, but I believe it may have something to do with the fact you were laying on the floor of my backseat the entire time.”
After he says this, he leans away from me, guarding his right shoulder. I give him a hard punch anyway.
“Let me show you inside?”
We make eye contact and I know he can sense my hesitation.
I suddenly rethink every decision I have ever made about Jeremy. What was I doing? Did I honestly think this relationship could possibly work? Would he really follow me to Stanford? I think deep down, I know that he can’t, that he won’t. I ignore the feeling, I can’t just give up on Jeremy because of something I think will happen.
I hold my eye contact with him and smile, he smiles back and extends his arm towards me. I place my hand in his. He pulls his arm towards his body, pulling my body up and towards his.
We walk across his backyard, which actually takes a minute or two because of the size, and walk into his house through an enormous sliding glass door.
“I already told The Help about you,” he stated, “so they won't question who you are or why you’re here.”
He smiled at me and I couldn't help but smile back. He had told me once before that he considers his Help to be very close friends of his, so I was surely surprised that he had told him about me. maybe I was being pessimistic by only thinking about the negative. Maybe he really did love me enough to follow me to the West Coast. Maybe he really did want to start a family with me. Maybe.
“Are you sure they won’t thinks it’s strange? Or that they won’t tell you father?” My voice trails off.
“Katherine, I’ve already told you this, they hate my father. No way they would tell him anything if they didn't have to-which they won't.” he assured me, although it didn't make me feel much better.
“Well, are we just going to stand here, or are you going to give me a tour of you amazing house?” I asked him.
“Right this way ma’am.” He laughed as he reached out his arm to show me down a certain hallway.
The hallway is dim, and although my feet aren't actually touching the light yellow granite floors, I know that they are freezing cold.
“What are ya going to show my first?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.
“Down this hallway is the library, a couple of offices.
“I didn’t even know some house had offices. And you, you have multiple?” I ask with astonishment, “You have multiple offices?”
“Yeah,” he nods his head while laughing, “Kind of ridiculous, right?”
“Well, yes,” I hesitate, “but also very, very cool.”
I begin to lightly skip down the hallway, placing myself in front of him. Doors begin to appear on both sides of me. I turn around, Jeremy is only a step or two behind me. I look at him, then I nod my head in the direction of the first door on the right.
“By all means, please, go in.” he tells me as he motions both of his hand in front of me, showing me into the room.
The door gives out a slight creak as it opens slowly. When the door has been fully opened, I find myself staring at a huge, tall room. The walls are lined from ceiling to floor with large, wooden bookcases. Not a single spot is left on any of the shelves for books- they’re all full. In the middle back of the room there lays a gigantic bay style window that overlooks his backyard. In front of the bay window, sits an oversized dark stained oak desk.
I walk in a circle around the room, dragging my hand against the spine of all the books, letting my fingertips absorb all the different textures of the book covers. I make my way to the desk and trace my fingers along the edges. I pull out the chair and I sit down.
“This room,” my breaths are short and heavy, “it’s amazing.”
“It’s my favorite room in the entire house. It seems like every book in the world is here. Want to learn about American History? you go to that book case.” he points to the first book case on the left. “Want to learn about the pythagorean theorem? There’s a chapter on it in one of the books that’s in the mathematics case.” He points to a bookcase over my left shoulder. “Almost anything you could possibly want to know is in here, it astonishing.”
“Wow.” I say in amazement, “So is this the library?”
“Good guess.” He replies.
He strolls over to the couple of chairs tucked into one of the corners of the room and sits down. I get up from the desk and walk over to one of the shelves, I touch multiple books before a randomly slide one out. I walk over to Jeremy and sit down.
“What book is that?” he questions.
“Uhhh,” I mumble as I try to read the old-school cursive, “It looks like it’s,” I squint a little bit more at the font, when i realize what it is, I laugh.
“What?” He asks curiously and possibly slightly offended.
“Why in the world do you have Jack and the Beanstalk in here?” I laugh.
“Aahhh,” he states in realization, “you picked the only book in the entire library that actually isn't supposed to be in here.”
“You mean, you don’t, like, have an entire section dedicated to bed-time tales and nursery rhymes?” I joke.
“Very funny.” he responds, obviously not amused, yet still smiling at me. “That was my favorite book when I was little. My mom bought it for me, I used to hide it in that bookshelf over there,” he nodded his head toward the direction of the bookcase where I had found the book, “I had honestly forgotten it was there.”
“Why did you feel the need to hide it?” I asked.
“My idiot of a father.” He replies, clearly annoyed. “For whatever crazy reason, he seems to think that bed-time stories are unrealistic and ridiculous. Which I guess, technically, they are. But still, reading bed-time stories is just sort of part of growing up, ya know?"
  "Yeah, I get what you mean." I mutter quietly.
    The truth is, I don't know. My dad could never have even imagined to be able to afford a book. Even if we could have afforded one, it’s not like we would even been allowed to stop foot in the book store.
“Katherine.” he sympathizes.
“Yeah?” I question worriedly.
“I, uhh, I can-” he hesitates, “I can’t go to California with you.
“What?!’ I exclaim, “Why not?"
“I’ve been accepted to the University of Tennessee. It’s such a good school, I can’t just not go.”
“The hell you can't.” I spit back. “Stanford is a better school, and you know it.”
“It is,” he agrees, “it totally is.”
“I dont see what the problem is then.” I mutter. “Stanford is such an amazing school. Why in the world would you not want to go there.”
“You and I both know I wouldn’t get accepted.” He explains.
“What are you talking about?” I question, “Your SAT scores were off the charts, there’s no way the would turn you down.”
“Stanford is all about changing the world. So why would they want to accept someone who’s father is affiliated with an organization that is dedicated to making the world stay the same?” he explains.
“That’s ridiculous,” I state, “they can’t do that.”
“Sure they can.” he replies.
“So,” I hesitate, “what does this mean for us?” My voice is soft.
“I haven't really put any thought into, if I’m being honest.” he states as his voice trailing off.
“You weren't planning on doing anything?” I spit back at him, “You didn’t even think to look back at the past six months of your life?”
“I can’t just follow you to the other side of the country Katherine!” he screamed at me, “what kind of person would that make me?” he gestures to himself.
“Are you kidding me?!” I shout at him. “This is about your pride? You’re turning our future together into something as stupid as your pride!”
I bounce up from the chair in a fit of rage and begin to quickly make my way out of the room and into the hallway.
“So my pride just means nothing?!” he screams at me, “stop making this all about you!”
I spin around on his cold granite floors. “Screw yourself.” I give him a glare and start to swiftly walk towards the closest exit I can find out of his disgustingly big house.

Chapter 8
“Katherine!” I hear him continuously yell after me.
I ignore him as I continue to search for a way out of the house. I walk down through a hallway and am suddenly in a large room with ceilings over thirty feet tall. I see what I assume is the front door and run towards it.
I hear Jeremy yelling my name, not too far behind me. I open the door and slam it behind me. I find myself on the front porch to his house. I see a long, cement driveway and run in the direction.
    Within seconds, I hear the front door of the house open and the quickly shut behind me, it must be Jeremy, it has to be. I don't turn around. I continue down the cement driveway at a fast paced walk, my arms crossed over my chest.
   "Katherine!" Jeremy shouts in my direction.
    I hear his hand slam against the metal of his car. I hear the car engine start and his wheels make a crunch sound as the roll over the some pebbles.
    I don't look back. I keep walking, making my strides longer and quicker. I hear his car getting closer and closer to me but I still refuse to turn around. He continues to call out my name.
   His car has caught up with me, but he has slowed down his car so that it is moving at the same pace as I am.
    "Katherine! You can't just run away from me." He says, no longer needing to shout.
   I still don't look at him. My pace quickens and is soon at a light jog. I uncross my hand from my chest and begin to pump my arms at my side.
   "You can't seriously be mad." He spats out in frustration from me not acknowledging his words.
   "You're telling me I can't be mad?!" My voice raises into a shout.
    He opens his car door and gets out. I begin to walk towards him.
    "This is such a stupid thing to be mad about! I have to think of myself too ya know!" he shouts at me.
   "Were you not thinking of yourself when you made all those promises?" I shove him towards his car.
   He stares at me, finally realizing why I am truly mad.
    "Were you?" I shove him again.
    "Were you?" I shove him again.
   I know he wants to fight me back, but he just stands there, letting me continuously shove his back into the side of his car.
  "Were you?" I shove him again.
    My eyes begin to water, and I knows this. I continue to shove him anyways.
   "Katherine, I didn't even realize." he sympathizes, his voice is soft.
    "No!" I scream, "You don't get to be sorry. You don't get to go back on the several promises you made just because a better opportunity came along. You don't get to feel sorry for me." I am now sobbing. "I don't want your sympathy, and I don't want you." My words spit out of my mouth in a harsh tone, but I don't feel the need to apologize for them. I meant what I said.
   "Let my at least give you a ride back int-"
    "No." I cut him off, "I don't want anything from you. I'll find my own way home."
    I turn my back to him and walk away. When I'm a good distance away, a crouch down and begin to sob. I sob harder than I ever have before.
  
 
Chapter 9
    This driveway seems as if it is a mile long. When I finally reach the end, I look around and see a rhode that appears to be isolated. After a minute or two of deciding which way, I decide left, and I walk.
    After walking for about a half an hour, I have finally reached the outskirts of town. Although I don't really recognize where I was. Was this Clementine Street? "Crap" I think to myself. Clementine is over 6 miles away from my house. Better get moving then.
    I walk at a pace even faster than when I was trying to get away from Jeremy. Within 15 minutes of my overly fast paced walk, I feel a cramp grow in my right side. I start to walk at a pace more close to normal, and a hold my right side as I slightly bend over and take slower strides.
    The sun is just a few minutes away from setting when I finally arrive home. I have an aching cramp in my right side and my legs feel like they are on fire and about to fall off all at the same time.
    I stop holding my right side so I can reach my arm out to open the side door of my house. I turn the black door handle and stagger into my house.
    "Where have you been young lady?" My father asks angrily.
   Shoot. I haven't even thought about what my explanation will be for my father. I can't tell him the truth, which is really hard because for as long as I can remember we've always been really open with each other.
    "Uhhh, I've been, uhhm," I pause to think of what to say to him, "I've been at the school helping Ms.Martin clean out her classroom."
"Is that so?" He states, clearly not believing my story.
"Uhh, yeah, that's right." I stutter. "You know how it is, end of the year and all. Teachers just want to get rid of all their junk."
     "Yeah, I know. Go wash your hands, dinner will be ready in less than ten minutes." He obviously didn't believe me, but he let it slip by anyway.
    I walk into my cramped room and open one of the squeaky drawers of my almost-broken wooden clothes dresser and pull out some sweatpants and a t-shirt to wear as pajamas. I walk into the bathroom that my father and I share and shut the door. I change into my pajamas. I quickly pull my long brown hair into a messy bun and wash my face with a bar of soap and a wash-cloth that is more of an old square of fabric filled with holes than it is a wash-cloth.
I exit the bathroom and sit down at the small plastic table that is pushed against the wall on the side of our kitchen.
My dad has already put a small portion of white rice and chicken on a paper plate and placed it on the table for me. He grabs a plate and some food for himself and sits down across from me. We talk and laugh with each other as we eat our dinner.
I clear the table and wash the dishes once we are finished with our dinner. I give my dad a kiss on the cheek goodnight and go into my room to go to bed.
Chapter 10
I lay in bed thinking of me and Jeremy’s fight earlier today and how terrible I feel about it. I can’t just expect Jeremy to uproot his entire life and everything he’s ever known to follow me across the country, even if he did promise that’s what he would do. It just isn’t fair to him.
I can’t wait to see him tomorrow so I can tell him how stupid it all was and how sorry I feel. I will find a way to talk to him in private sometime tomorrow and I’ll present him with my letter from Stanford. We’ll open it together and we can just figure things out from there.
I suddenly get a strong headache. The pain is so severe that I feel the need to bury my face in my old pillow and let out a cry of pain. I roll onto my back and I feel my eyes begin to fill up with tears. What is going on? I never get headaches, I never even get sick.
The pain quickly passes and I write it off as a side-effect of how excited I am to make things right with Jeremy tomorrow. I fall asleep thinking of how badly I want to get into Stanford, and how much I deserve it.

After

Chapter 11
I hear the loud beeping of my annoying alarm clock and roll out of bed. I stand tall on my feet and stretch my arms up towards the ceiling. I walk out of my room and immediately feel a burst of cold rush through my body as I take my first few steps on the ice cold granite floor. I walk downstairs and into the kitchen.
     "Good morning Jeremy" I hear my maid say behind me.
   "Ah, morning Mara. How are you doing on this beautiful morning?" I ask her.
     "Not too shabby." She replies with a smirk on her face, "would you like some scrambled eggs? A bagel perhaps?" She asks me.
     "Scrambled eggs would be perfect." I smile to her when I reply.
     She prepares some eggs for me and sets the glass plate on the dining room table.
    As I scoop each fork full of eggs into my mouth, I think of my fight yesterday with Katherine.
     I should have been more understanding. I did promise her I would follow her to Stanford, I should have realized why she was so enraged. I can't stand the thought of her going to bed angry at me. 
    I finish the last of my eggs and head upstairs to my room to get dressed.
    I open my closet door and step inside the large room. I grab my full length khaki pants and a simple t-shirt, but then I remember it's the middle of May in Brighton, Alabama so I fold my khaki pants and place them in the correct drawer, I exchange them for my khakis shorts. Such original style, I know.
I change into my clothes and grab my backpack for school. I walk out my front door and walk down my driveway to where my car is parked. I open the back door of my car and lazily throw my school bag in the back seat and then quickly climb into the driver’s seat. I drive to school.
I walk through the halls of Northeast but i can’t seem to find Katherine anywhere. I search every corner of the school but I can’t seem to find her anywhere. Where could she be?
I start walking down the third floor of the west wing of the school and I finally spot Phil leaning against a wall outside the girl’s bathroom. I give out a sigh of relief as I realize he is probably waiting for Katherine. I walk up to him.
“I was so worried.” I state.
“Jeremy I nee-”
“I couldn't find Katherine anywhere! I was looking everywhere for that girl, I’m so happy I found you.” I tell him.
“There’s something I need to tell yo-” I cut him off.
“Is she in there?” I ask him, “I really need to talk to her.”
“Jeremy I really need to tell you something.” he spits out quickly.
I look at him suspiciously. He nods his head towards a door at the end of the hallway. We walk through the door and are now on a small ledge. He looks at me with more the most sympathetic look.
“Jeremy, last night Kathe-”
“No.” I cut him off, “she didnt. She couldn't have. No!” I feel my eyes fill up with water and soon tears are rolling down my cheek uncontrollably.
“Jeremy, Katherine is dead.”