by Styles, T.
Coconut was chagrin by what Farah Cotton—a nobody, an outcast—was telling her about one of her best friends. Not wanting Rhonda and the girls to hear anything else, she grabbed her gym bag and shoes and walked to the other side. “Come over here.” Farah quickly walked up to her. “What’s your name, spotty face?” She cleared her throat. “I mean ... what’s your name?”
“I’m Farah Cotton, and I want so much to be your friend.” Coconut smiled, flustered by her forwardness. “I can be a really good friend, too. I won’t talk behind your back, or lie to you. I promise.”
“Look, let’s keep it light for right now,” Coconut said, quoting her favorite phrase. “We’ll talk later about all that. For now, can you tell me exactly what she said about me?” She placed her shoes on. “When you were up there.”
“Right before you walked up to her, she said you wore her red panties and gave her a yeast infection.”
Coconut frowned. “She’s lying like shit! My daddy buys me real nice panties. What I need her stuff for?” It was obvious it was true.
“I know ... I didn’t believe her, but I wanted to tell you so you can watch your back. She’s real sneaky. The other girls were calling you names, too, so I wouldn’t let them come to your house if I were you.” Feeling as if it were all or nothing, Farah decided to remind her of the party. “Can I come to your party now? Since I told you about them?”
“Yeah ... but you gotta say what you telling me in front of Shannon.” Farah’s heart thumped wilder and she tried to calm down. Her body wasn’t fit for all the excitement. “If I believe you, we gonna jump her. If you help, you can come to my party and be in my crew.”
Farah wasn’t a fighter and she knew it. Just moments ago she experienced rage for the first time, and already she wasn’t mad anymore. But if this was what it took to win Coconut over, she was down. Cupping her hands together she said, “You got it!” She was so excited she wanted to run away before she changed her mind.
Coconut snatched Farah’s diary and pencil and wrote her number on the page of her last story. When she saw her name in the journal, she read what it said:
Later, she went outside to play with the prettiest girl in her school, who was also her best friend—Coconut Elway.
She looked up at her and wanted to run. Farah Cotton was proving to be stranger by the moment. “Here ... call me in a few days, and I’ll let you know where everything is going down.” She paused. “And if I find out you’re lying, we gonna jump you instead.”
Chapter 5
“I’ll give you a chance. If you can help me.”
—Farah
After school, Farah, Mia, Chloe, and Shadow walked home. Although they ranged from elementary school to high school, the Cottons didn’t walk the streets unless they were all deep. A week had passed since she was hospitalized, and Farah was starting to feel ill again. Living in pain, and in the bed, was a regular part of her life. She’d missed so many days from school. Out of pity her teacher would pass her, believing that, in her condition, it was just a matter of time before she died anyway. When she was well enough to go to school, all she thought about was Theo, and each day she’d pray he would be there so she could explain how she had nothing to do with what her mother did to him. Theo never came back. His parents pulled him out for fear of what Ashur and Brownie might do to him next.
It was especially hard for her to get out of bed today until it dawned on her: today was the day she had to call Coconut, and she wasn’t all that excited about their friendship. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to be cool with her, but Farah wasn’t a fighter. She tried desperately to think of a way out of confronting Shannon about what she’d said about Coconut. She couldn’t ask her siblings for advice because they breathed danger and would’ve probably walked her to the altercation personally. After the doctors told Farah to avoid the sun, for fear she’d get blisters again, she walked down the street under a black umbrella. People may have laughed behind her back, but not one of them was bold enough to talk that shit to her face with Mia and Shadow present.
When they were some feet away from the building, Mia saw her archrival, Boo. Boo was older than her by one year and, just like Mia, loved keeping up shit. They’d fought so many times that people got confused on who could give the other more go. In the end, it was said they both were time enough for each other. “What the fuck are them bitches up to?” Shadow asked, not liking the looks on their faces.
“I can’t stand Boo’s ass,” Mia said, looking at Boo and her friends leaning on a fence in front of their building. “I should go spit in that bitch’s face.”
“If you do you betta be ready to scrap,” Shadow continued, wondering what Boo had planned. ’Cause I got a feeling this bitch is up to something.”
“You think I’m scared?” Mia frowned. As always her clothing was tinged with remnants of her meal for the day. In this case, dried ketchup was over her right breast. She needed to take better care of her physical appearance, but it never was a priority.
“Don’t play me for soft,” he said. “I’m just saying be ready. You know I’ma make sure nobody jump in. That’s for sure.”
“I don’t wanna fight,” Farah said. “I just wanna go inside. I’m not feeling good.”
Everybody sighed and rolled their eyes. Mia said, “Farah, you better stop being a punk. I’m sick of that shit. You the only one in the family who start shit but don’t back it up.” Farah wondered what she meant. “Oh, don’t think I don’t know about the stuff you started at school with Shannon. That’s probably why her cousin Boo over here now.”
“I’m not scared.” Farah swallowed. “I just don’t like fighting, unless I have to.”
“Seems to me since we got your back, you never have to,” Shadow said. “And I can’t be banging on no bitches when I got sisters.” Farah remained silent. “You better learn to fall in love with blood.”
“What we waiting on?” Chloe asked, skipping the subject. She was striking and she knew it. With big eyes and a winning smile, she embraced her chocolate skin unlike her mother, believing it made her special. “Let’s beat these bitchesasses. I ain’t afraid!”
They all looked at her and laughed. “First of all, girlie, you’re only ten years old,” Mia said. “You be more likely to get in the way than you would to help.”
“I fight all the time at school!” Chloe said. “Bitches know I’m thorough with my hand game.” Farah, like her sister and brother, ignored the youngest member of the family as she continued to tell them how she was a beast in them streets.
When they made it to their unit, Mia and Boo rolled eyes at each other as the Cottons disappeared into their building. The moment they hit the first step, Boo opened the building door and threw a stink bomb into the hallway. She and her friends laughed heartily as they closed the door and leaned into it. They knew from earlier experiences at school that whatever affliction the Cottons suffered from, they could not deal with fumes. Their illness was their weakness, and everybody with a vendetta used it against them.
Mia and Shadow tried to push the door open, but Boo and her friends outnumbered them as they pressed their weight against the opposite side of the door. “Run upstairs!” Mia ordered, as the fumes from the toxic bomb crawled up the stairway like fog in a horror movie. “And cover your noses and eyes.”
“Oh, no!” Farah yelled under her hand. Since she was extra sensitive to everything, she feared the worst. “I’m gonna have to go back to the hospital again.”
“Don’t worry about all that! Just go!” Mia continued.
When they made it to their floor, they banged heavily on their grandmother’s door. Since she was under the hair dryer in her room, she didn’t know that her grandchildren were in danger, and fighting for their lives. “Let us in, Grandma!” Mia said, banging on the door with heavy fists. “Please!”
The fumes, getting the best of their bodies, caused them to fall to their knees and clench their stomachs. Farah started throwing up while the res
t of them experienced migraine-like headaches. Farah tried her best to prevent any more fumes from going into her body, but the vapors effortlessly rolled into her nostrils, and waited for her to release her breath so they could attack her organs. When she did she panicked, and passed out cold on the grungy floor.
For the second time in less than thirty days, Farah was hospitalized and alone. She couldn’t imagine what Coconut thought about her and hoped she didn’t rescind the offer to be her friend. She was so inconsolable at the moment that she couldn’t write in her diary. Life was dark, and not worth living, and she hated being sick. Her desire to be well and have friends choked every moment of her day. She couldn’t wait to see her family and leave, so the moment she saw Shadow, Mia, and Chloe, she beamed. At least they always seemed to love her. In a strange way, the disease they shared was a reminder that she was part of the family after all.
“Damn, your face is destroyed!” Mia said. Farah had scars, sores, and blisters on every inch of her body. The rest of her siblings didn’t take a beating on their outward appearance.
“I look that bad?” She rubbed her face. “Please say no! I don’t wanna go back to school like this!”
“It’s not that bad,” Mia lied, looking at Shadow. “You ready to get the fuck out of here?” Mia asked Farah. ’Cause I know I am!”
Farah was starting to believe that if she didn’t have the illness, her social life would be way better. She was willing to do anything to be normal; she didn’t care what it was.
She grabbed her duffle bag that sat on the floor and put it on her bed. “So where’s Mamma and Daddy?” Her appearance was still on her mind.
“They on their way up the hallway,” Shadow said. “They were fighting again.”
“About what?”
“Daddy ain’t come home last night again,” Chloe said, adding her two cents. “I think he’s fucking mommy’s friend or something. That’s what I heard them talking about anyway.”
“Stop being fast, Chloe!” Mia said.
Chloe rolled her eyes and said, “Bitch, you not the boss of me.” She folded her arms over her chest but remained silent.
When a pretty black nurse walked into the room, Shadow tried to puff out his chest and appear cool as he leaned up against the wall. She moved right past him like he wasn’t in attendance. “Hello, Farah.” She smiled. “My name is Erica and I’m here to check your vitals before you leave.” As she checked her pulse, she couldn’t stop looking at her. “You are so pretty and I’m sorry your skin is so damaged right now. I’m sure the doctor can give you something, so make sure you ask him. As cute as you are, you gotta always make sure your appearance is on point. That’s all we got in life.”
“Beauty runs in our family,” Shadow added.
The nurse looked back at him and laughed. “This not your sister, boy. Stop playing.” She turned her attention back to the blood pressure cuff on Farah’s arm.
“Fuck that’s supposed to mean?”Shadow asked.
“Well ... it means she doesn’t look like she’s related to you.”
“Well, she is our sister!” Mia said.
“Y’all related for real?” She looked over all of them.
“Yes,” Farah said softly. “This is my family.” Farah wanted the nurse to leave because she caused enough problems as it was. Every time somebody pointed out their differences, she felt like her family members were given another reason to hate her.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” the nurse said. “It just looks like you’re mixed, and they are so dark skinned that I assumed. . .”
“Are you finished?” Mia asked. “Because I feel like I’m about to unleash on your ass.”
“I’m done now.” The nurse removed the cuff.
“Then hurry up and get the fuck out of here before you get stomped.” Hearing the thunder in Mia’s voice, she gathered her things and made a speedy exit.
When they were alone Farah felt bad. “I’m sorry, y’all. I hate when people do that shit.” She looked at her scarred hands, which she was sure resembled her face. The nurse was right; she would have to do something to get her appearance in check. But what? Everything she used would only make it worse. She was beginning to feel very discouraged. “The nurse was just being dumb.”
“What you gotta be sorry for?” Shadow said. “You know how many times Mamma gets looked over because she so black?”
“Boy, you only listening to what she say,” Mia interjected. “Ain’t nobody looking over Mamma. If she think people are being rude, they gonna be rude.”
“Whatever, Mia. You and me both know that ain’t true, he said. “Farah ... you just need to be grateful you lighter, so start acting like it. I’m tired of having a pity party for you when it ain’t deserved.”
When Ashur and Brownie walked into the room Farah was relieved. It was the confirmation she needed that, for the moment, she was going home. “How you feel, RedBone?” Brownie asked. It was evident by the tone of her voice that she didn’t care. “Still in pain?”
“No. I’m kinda better.” Wanting affection she walked over to her and said, “Can I have a hug?”
“Girl, get you worrisome ass outta here. You in the hospital every other day now. Stop trying to get more attention.” Brownie walked away and looked out of the window, while Farah sat down and sulked.
Ashur wanted to smack the shit out of Brownie but he left it alone. Instead he looked at all of his children and said, “I don’t know why my kids gotta go through this shit!” It was obvious that he’d been drinking. “Them white people who got money would’ve been had medicine for this. And they keep telling my kids they got fucking allergies! I don’t believe nothing they tell me, Brownie!”
“I know, honey.” Brownie walked up to him and rubbed his back. They put aside the beef they had earlier for a greater cause—their children. “But a new doctor is coming today. Maybe he can tell us something.”
After waiting five more minutes, a white male doctor walked in, and automatically Ashur and Brownie were hopeful. Racist against their own people, they believed at first that they’d get better service because of his race. The badge on his doctor’s coat indicated that his name was Dr. Martin. He had a solemn look on his face that no one could read. His black-rimmed glasses seemed to set off his piercing blue eyes and his large nose. For the first time ever, Farah felt hope. “Hello, everyone, I’m Dr. Martin,” he said, walking up to Ashur and Brownie to shake their hands, “and if you don’t mind I’d like to talk to you about your children.”
Ashur didn’t know much about medicine, but he’d been in the streets long enough to know a rookie when he saw one. “How long you been practicing medicine?” Ashur asked with disdain in his voice.
“Not long. I’m an intern in my first year of residency.” He adjusted the glasses on his face.
Ashur looked at the ceiling, threw his arms in the air, and stomped over to the window. “I shoulda known the moment I saw a white doctor that he was an intern. They don’t give the black children no good white doctors. Just the ones that don’t know nothing, so they can be lab rats.”
“Sir, I am a good doctor.”
“I bet,” Ashur said sarcastically.
Dr. Martin was insulted but he was used to it by now. “I understand that you’re upset. I truly do,” he said. “But I might know what is really going on with your family.”
Brownie walked closer to him. “You do? Because me and my mamma got this shit too, even though the kids have it worse.”
“I think I know, but first I want to run some more tests. Tests I think might sum up everything you all are going through. I’ve seen the records. Farah in particular has been here one hundred days out of this year alone.” Farah knew it was a lot, but she was surprised at the number. “Her body is taking a toll but we need to be sure before we medicate.”
Brownie frowned. “Naw, doctor, I don’t feel like putting them through no more tests, only for you to come back and tell me they got allergies,” Brownie sa
id. “So you can stick your funky test up your white ass and get out of my face. She looked at her kids and grabbed Farah’s bag. “Come on, y’all, let’s go home.”
Everyone marched to the door when Dr. Martin said, “Mrs. Cotton, I haven’t been practicing medicine for a long time, but I can assure you of one thing, and that is you and your family do not suffer from allergies. Give me a chance.”
Farah walked up to him, grabbed his hand, and said, “I’ll give you a chance. If you can help me.”
Chapter 6
“Chloe ... what the fuck are you doing? I’ma tell Ma!”
—Farah
Farah held the lime-lemon juice jug to her lips, stuck her pink tongue through the spout, and guzzled as much as she could in one breath. Stopping for only a moment, she did it three more times before realizing she drank half of her mother’s juice. If Brownie didn’t play one thing, it was someone fucking with her shit. Whenever she went to the market, and used her food stamps on the first of the month, she would warn her children against eating and drinking everything within the first few days. Her words always fell on deaf ears, and when the fridge was void of snacks, they’d often spend hours begging for hers, despite the answer always being no.
Noticing her white T-shirt was covered with three green drops from the jug, she knew she would have to cover her tracks before Brownie came home. Farah looked at the kitchen’s entrance, and when she was sure no one was coming, she turned the cold water on and placed the jug under the faucet. She filled it with water until she felt it was in the right place. A lighter green than it was before she got her paws on it, she put it back in the fridge.
When Farah was about to pass her grandmother, who was sitting on the couch soaking her feet, she was stopped. “What were you doing in that kitchen, child? You got a guilty look on your face, and a few green spots on your shirt. You wasn’t drinking your mother’s stuff now, were you?”
