Green’s November
Chapter 1
I’d never thought I’d be a gangster.
It’s not one of cool things to brag about. Believe me. So to all those gangster-wannabes, just stop. Stop. Don’t think that you look “ghetto” by wearing loose pants, and snapbacks, waving random hand motions that you think are gang signals. Being in a gang is not what it seems. There’s more to a gang life then what they show you in the movies. Everyday, a whole bunch of people get shot or even killed all because they’re in a gang or connected to a gang member. It’s dangerous stuff out there. If I were you, I’d enjoy my life. I’d love to be normal again. Being different sucks.
Trust me.
My name is Imani Green. I’m fourteen years old and I live in Chicago, but before you ask, I actually live in the suburbs. Yes, those neat, safe neighborhoods where literally nothing happens. Everyone there was boring and besides lived identical lives. Was I a boring person? Yep, and to be honest, I still am. It’s pretty disappointing to find out the only thing interesting about me was that I won a hot dog eating contest once when I was ten. I never lived on the Southside, I hated going out and I didn’t even like listening to music for awhile. But just when life got dull and boring, things started turning out for the worst a few months ago.
It was somewhere between three to four in the afternoon when I was walking home from school. I was exhausted, dragging my shoes on the cracked pavement. My legs felt like cooked ramen noodles and my brain was pretty much dead. “Just keep walking, just keep walking Imani.”, I muttered to myself. School easily wore me down. Seven hours of doing nothing, but staring at people had a huge toll on me, especially when I haven’t eaten all day.
My stomach churned and grumbled, begging me for food that I didn’t have. I didn’t even eat breakfast that morning. I felt so empty, so miserable. I honestly felt like I wasn’t going to make it. Okay, I might have been a little too dramatic, but then again, I was super hungry.. Turning on the corner, I looked down with a defeated look on my face. It seemed like the end was finally here. Then, I saw it. There it was, right across the street. I completely forgot it was there. Luck was finally on my side.
I ran like hell. The sidewalk became my runway, with the bright streetlights guiding me along the way. It was magical. I’ve never been so happy to see Ernie’s Gas station right in front of me. Yes, for some it was just a place for gas, but for me it had one thing. FOOD.
I burst into the store, grabbing everything I could hold with my bare hands. Chips, a slushee, a pack of gum, a hotdog, and some nachos for later. I was so happy. The young cashier looked on as I dumped all the food I got on the small counter. He should get more used to this. While the cashier dialed the costs on his little cash register, all my brain could think about was which food I should eat first. Should I eat the Cheetos or the Fritos? Or what about the slushee? Should I drink it now or later? I had no idea where to start, but I was so excited to chow down all of it. I was of course a die-hard foodie after all.
My mind was so caught up in the food that I almost didn’t hear what the cashier was saying. “Miss!”, he shouted. I was startled as I looked back at him. “It'll be $10.28”, he grumbled. I shuffled through my shallow pockets, looking for the little stash of money I always kept just in case. I managed to take out a five dollar bill, two dollar bills, and one quarter. So that made…..seven dollars and twenty-five cents. Great. The one time I needed money, I didn’t have it. Now what was I going to do? Get all this food and run? Why didn’t I bring more money? With my face red with embarrassment, I stuttered,”Um, can you uh, well-”. “I’ll pay for it.”, said a mysterious, deep voice. I quickly whirled around. It was a man, a tall man, about six feet high. He had dark, smooth skin paired with tenacious, brown eyes that made my skin crawl when I looked at him. He looked strong and brawny, his muscles popping out of his blue t-shirt. His hands and feet were ginormous, almost twice as long as mine. His chiseled face was covered by the cold, stoic look he wore. Not only was he terrifying on the outside, there was also a small shape I could barely make out in his shirt. It was some type of weapon, a concealed one. Then I realized that this man was armed. He was armed with a gun.This didn’t look an act of kindness. It looked like an act of death. But for some damn reason, I felt like I’ve seen him before. All memories started flowing into my head. His nonexistent charm, his face, his stiff demeanor. It was all so familiar. I somehow knew who he was.“No, it can’t be. There’s no way.”, I muttered. “Excuse me?”, the man asked. “Is everything alright?”. Why I said that aloud still proves how much of an idiot I was.
I took a step back. “Um, i-it’s ok sir.”, I smiled as I clumsily knocked down some of the stuff I got on the floor. “I’m not going to buy it, so uh-I, um I gotta go. Bye!”. I left the building quicker than how I came in. I ran for my life. I was so panting hard as I continued running, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t sad I didn’t buy any food at Ernie’s. I was more scared. Was that who I thought it was? If so, why was he here? Why did he want to help me? Why did he bring a gun? As I was getting closer to home, there was only one thought stuck in my mind.
Dad?
Green’s November
Chapter 1
I’d never thought I’d be a gangster.
It’s not one of cool things to brag about. Believe me. So to all those gangster-wannabes, just stop. Stop. Don’t think that you look “ghetto” by wearing loose pants, and snapbacks, waving random hand motions that you think are gang signals. Being in a gang is not what it seems. There’s more to a gang life then what they show you in the movies. Everyday, a whole bunch of people get shot or even killed all because they’re in a gang or connected to a gang member. It’s dangerous stuff out there. If I were you, I’d enjoy my life. I’d love to be normal again. Being different sucks.
Trust me.
My name is Imani Green. I’m fourteen years old and I live in Chicago, but before you ask, I actually live in the suburbs. Yes, those neat, safe neighborhoods where literally nothing happens. Everyone there was boring and besides lived identical lives. Was I a boring person? Yep, and to be honest, I still am. It’s pretty disappointing to find out the only thing interesting about me was that I won a hot dog eating contest once when I was ten. I never lived on the Southside, I hated going out and I didn’t even like listening to music for awhile. But just when life got dull and boring, things started turning out for the worst a few months ago.
It was somewhere between three to four in the afternoon when I was walking home from school. I was exhausted, dragging my shoes on the cracked pavement. My legs felt like cooked ramen noodles and my brain was pretty much dead. “Just keep walking, just keep walking Imani.”, I muttered to myself. School easily wore me down. Seven hours of doing nothing, but staring at people had a huge toll on me, especially when I haven’t eaten all day.
My stomach churned and grumbled, begging me for food that I didn’t have. I didn’t even eat breakfast that morning. I felt so empty, so miserable. I honestly felt like I wasn’t going to make it. Okay, I might have been a little too dramatic, but then again, I was super hungry.. Turning on the corner, I looked down with a defeated look on my face. It seemed like the end was finally here. Then, I saw it. There it was, right across the street. I completely forgot it was there. Luck was finally on my side.
I ran like hell. The sidewalk became my runway, with the bright streetlights guiding me along the way. It was magical. I’ve never been so happy to see Ernie’s Gas station right in front of me. Yes, for some it was just a place for gas, but for me it had one thing. FOOD.
I burst into the store, grabbing everything I could hold with my bare hands. Chips, a slushee, a pack of gum, a hotdog, and some nachos for later. I was so happy. The young cashier looked on as I dumped all the food I got on the small counter. He should get more used to this. While the cashier dialed the costs on his little cash register, all my brain could think about was which food I should eat first. Should I eat the Cheetos or the Fritos? Or what about the slushee? Should I drink it now or later? I had no idea where to start, but I was so excited to chow down all of it. I was of course a die-hard foodie after all.
My mind was so caught up in the food that I almost didn’t hear what the cashier was saying. “Miss!”, he shouted. I was startled as I looked back at him. “It'll be $10.28”, he grumbled. I shuffled through my shallow pockets, looking for the little stash of money I always kept just in case. I managed to take out a five dollar bill, two dollar bills, and one quarter. So that made…..seven dollars and twenty-five cents. Great. The one time I needed money, I didn’t have it. Now what was I going to do? Get all this food and run? Why didn’t I bring more money? With my face red with embarrassment, I stuttered,”Um, can you uh, well-”. “I’ll pay for it.”, said a mysterious, deep voice. I quickly whirled around. It was a man, a tall man, about six feet high. He had dark, smooth skin paired with tenacious, brown eyes that made my skin crawl when I looked at him. He looked strong and brawny, his muscles popping out of his blue t-shirt. His hands and feet were ginormous, almost twice as long as mine. His chiseled face was covered by the cold, stoic look he wore. Not only was he terrifying on the outside, there was also a small shape I could barely make out in his shirt. It was some type of weapon, a concealed one. Then I realized that this man was armed. He was armed with a gun.This didn’t look an act of kindness. It looked like an act of death. But for some damn reason, I felt like I’ve seen him before. All memories started flowing into my head. His nonexistent charm, his face, his stiff demeanor. It was all so familiar. I somehow knew who he was.“No, it can’t be. There’s no way.”, I muttered. “Excuse me?”, the man asked. “Is everything alright?”. Why I said that aloud still proves how much of an idiot I was.
I took a step back. “Um, i-it’s ok sir.”, I smiled as I clumsily knocked down some of the stuff I got on the floor. “I’m not going to buy it, so uh-I, um I gotta go. Bye!”. I left the building quicker than how I came in. I ran for my life. I was so panting hard as I continued running, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t sad I didn’t buy any food at Ernie’s. I was more scared. Was that who I thought it was? If so, why was he here? Why did he want to help me? Why did he bring a gun? As I was getting closer to home, there was only one thought stuck in my mind.
Dad?
Behind the Stranger
In our society today, we are pressured to be by ourselves and the ones we know. At school, I was told to never talk to anyone new and to just leave them alone. But through every unknown stranger is an unknown story waiting and wanting to be told to someone who would listen. And this is where my story truly begins.
It was a pretty much a normal day at my high school. I was walking out of my class, late to lunch and by that time, everyone left their classes already. I was walking through the hallways alone, hearing the sounds of my own footsteps as I walked outside, but from the corner of my eye, I saw him. Him, a boy about my age sitting alone at lunch, to most people a complete stranger. I would see him every day being by himself, alone. When I walked with my friends I would always see him, but even my friends would never notice him. My heart would always wrench with guilt whenever I walk past him, so I decided to do what most students would advise me not to do. I stopped and talked to him. "Hey, what's up?", I said. That was pretty awkward, but he turned to me and I could see him clearly for the first time. He had a round face with overgrown hair that didn't suit him and wore glasses that were old, yellow and wrapped up with tape. He was also wearing an old polo shirt on with cargo pants along with old, beaten up shoes that looked as if they were the only ones he had. His eyes were gloomy and tired and his hands were scarred and withered. The boy's eyes started to well up with tears and he looked back not saying a word. I asked,"Hey are you ok?" He didn't look okay. Something was bothering him and without a warning, let go of everything he was hiding inside. He started to cry. But he wasn't crying tears of anger, he was crying tears of pain he couldn't keep inside for much longer. That's when he blurted out everything to me.
He told me about how he was lonely for so long and how he was being bullied. He told me about his suicide attempts and how he always failed. He told me about his family and that his mother died giving birth to his brother. He told me about his disabled father having no job and him being the one taking care of his father. He told me about his special needs brother who also needs his help. And he told me that he appreciate me listening to his story and how it changed his life.
I was shocked. I never expected something like this to happen. When you look at a stranger, you don't think much about them. In life, you may never know enough about the person sitting next to you in class or the new co-worker who sits by herself or maybe it's just because you don't want to know. Maybe you don't want to know that your new co-worker is a single mom working three jobs every day to feed her children. Or maybe you don't want to know that your classmate's father is serving in another country. Maybe you don't want to read this because you don't want to look weird by talking to strangers and you don't want to make a small difference. But for those who want to make a difference in this world, just know that there's more behind people than there is upfront.