Antwon and Shakira

A young 17-year-old girl, just new on the street not knowing anyone, walked alone on the cold ground huddled in her coat. She was pretty with her full lips and wavy Latina hair flowing in the cool breeze. She walked with a limp from a gangs' foot. She'd been walking in the turf of the blacks and had came between a war brewing between African-Americans and Hispanics. Fortunately, her boyfriend was in a gang and had homeboys watch over her on the streets. She despised gangs and fighting but yet, she was relived they were there to watch over her. 1

The blows were brutal and it seemed like forever before Julio and the others came to bail her out and stick up for her. another fight to add to the war. She walked grabbing her ribcage out of pain.2

She stopped when she reached her new school...it read Coconut Creek High School but she saw World War III. Different groups of people hanging out with their own. Hispanics with Hispanics, blacks with blacks, wonder-breads with wonder-breads. She looked about the school yard and looked as the Hispanics turned their backs to her. She looked around at what before seemed like family. Back at her old school, everyone hung out with everyone. There was no "Ghetto Turf" or "Wonder-Bread Land" or "South From the Border". There was just friends. Just family outside of home. But here, this segregation, it was a rude awakening. As she made her entrance into the new school, a Junior on the football team bumped into her trying to catch the football being thrown to him. 3

"Ayo, Mami, what you trying to do? Trip me up?"4

She looked at him. His light honey brown eyes staring over her, scaling her up and down. His light skin made him look as though he was mixed with black and Spanish. She wondered to herself what turf he claimed. 5

"Yo, Ma...you alive in there?"6

"Uh.. yeah, yeah. I'm straight. I'm Shak-"7

"Yo, let's not make this personal Mami. Aight?"8

She stopped and looked at him crazy. She looked down.9

"Yeah, that's cool."10

~This is definitely not Alvin.~ She thought as she walked down the dusty hallways. The bell rang just as she made it into the class. The Dominican Algebra II teacher looked at her, along with all the dark faces. If there was any time to feel awkward, it was now, in this school. 11

"Excuse me, miss, what's your name?" The teacher's dark brown eyes staring into her deep mocha circles.12

"Sh- Shakira, sir, my name's Shakira."13