The Weight of Blood (67)

Kenny crossed the room in three quick strides, charging up to his father. They’d been the same height for the last few years, but Kenny had a solid thirty pounds of muscle on him.

“Leave her out of this,” he growled, his hands flexing. He’d never once thought of hitting his father but knew one punch would land him in the hospital.

Mr. Scott cocked his head to the side and chuckled. “Oh. So it is about her. Well, like they say, once you go Black, you never go back.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he spat, furious he didn’t understand the joke.

Mr. Scott shook his head. “That Wendy . . . she’ll look better on your arm, take you further than that Washington girl ever will. No matter how white she may look. No one will care. You best remember that.”

Then he tucked the books under his armpit and strolled out of the room.

Transcript from ESPN College Football LIVE, June 3, 2014

Host: Breaking news out of Georgia today. Top college recruit Kendrick Scott is alleged to be one of the multiple victims in a May thirty-first explosion near a high school senior prom that took the lives of over a hundred people. The family reported him missing and his remains have yet to be identified. A Gatorade National Player of the Year and three-time all-state selection, Scott led his school to three state championships and would have likely been the first true freshman to start at quarterback for the Crimson Tide since 1984.

Alabama released a statement today: “We are devastated by the loss of such a phenomenal athlete and send condolences to his family . . .”





Seventeen


May 31, 2014

THE BLACK SATIN off-the-shoulder dress had a sweetheart neckline, cinched waist, and mesh short sleeves. Maddy had hemmed it tea length, adding layers of itchy tulle beneath to make it fuller. The diamond brooch pinned on her side was from the store, kept in the glass display case that was rarely looked at. It sparkled in the dim light of her bedroom as her trembling hands tried to apply a second coat of mascara. The YouTube video she’d watched at school said three coats would draw out her eyes, but she couldn’t hold still. She took a deep breath.

Nerves. Everything would be fine.

Her hair hung long in classic Hollywood waves, fluffed with several brush strokes, and kept in place with dollar-store hair spray. With her lips stained a deep red, she looked like Bette Davis in All About Eve.

“Fasten your seat belts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.”

“No,” she whispered. It wasn’t going to be a bumpy night. It was going to be perfect. And Kendrick would be there soon to pick her up. She slipped into her black kitten heels with cutouts at the sides and velvet bows on top. She had made a thin shawl with leftover fabric from a white dress to cover her bare shoulders and hide the burns on her neck. Would Kendrick notice? He’d seen one but not all of them. Would he be worried?

“Black. Of course,” Papa bellowed behind her. “Only jezebels would wear such a color. A harlot. The color of the darkness from which you came.”

Her stomach tensed, but she chose not to respond.

Papa stood in the doorway, seething. “How dare you dress like some whore in my house?”

Maddy couldn’t fathom what he saw. The dress looked straight out of every movie they’d ever watched together—modest, classic, and sophisticated. How could he find fault in it?

He stepped closer. “Madison, I am ashamed of you.”

She sighed. “I know, Papa. I’ve always known that.”

Papa’s brows knitted before he slumped, the anger seeming to leak out of him. His face softened, bottom lip trembling.

“Madison,” he started in a meek voice. “Daughter. Please, I’m begging you. Don’t do this. Stay here. Stay with me.”

The crack in his voice made her wobble. But Maddy lifted her chin and stuffed a lipstick inside her clutch.

“Papa, please. I need to finish getting ready. He’ll be here any moment.”

Papa took a step closer with a trembling smile, his eyes glassy.

“I’ve bought some ice cream. Your favorite, vanilla. We could watch Grease. You always said you wanted to see that, right? Wouldn’t that be nice? Madison?”

Maddy smoothed down her roots in the mirror.

“Maybe tomorrow, Papa. Tonight, I’m going to the prom.”

Even saying the words felt surreal and dreamlike. She, of all people, was headed to a dance. Not just any dance, the prom! She almost burst with laughter, body flooding with joy.

But then Papa lunged across the room, gripping her shoulders.

“Papa, let go of me, please!”

“Take off this filthy dress,” he said, shaking her. “We can pray together for redemption. Cast away your sins while there’s still time.”

“I haven’t sinned, Papa! I’m just going to a dance. Everyone goes to dances, even in the movies, and they turn out just fine. It’s not a sin!”

“You don’t understand, child. You don’t understand what those people are like.”

Maddy stared into his petrified eyes and tried to pull away. “Stop it, Papa.”

“Don’t you see? All this time, I’ve only tried to protect you!” he cried with a raspy voice. “Because I know . . . I know they’re going to hurt you.” Papa’s mixture of anger and pain frightened her, but she couldn’t escape his grip. “Dear child, these aren’t good people. Don’t you see? They are not nice to your kind.”