Category: Fiction

The oar was lax in the old man’s hands. He stared at the once golden-haired boy, now as old as he was himself, waiting for a sign of recognition, proof that those days lying on the hot sand as the sun turned their bodies brown weren’t a product of his imagination. But the curly-haired man just stared at him, waiting to be rowed across the river. The old man’s heart clenched, but he picked up his oars and started rowing.

It had been a frustrating few weeks at school. Individually, a number of white students had displayed their bias in the usual ways—not so funny “jokes,” being adamant about slavery and the Civil Rights Movement being “so long ago,” half-compliments, stereotyping me and my friends—and I wasn’t having it. I fully understand how it’s necessary to let a lot fly—I mean, if I stop to correct someone every time they show their lack of racial understanding, I’ll never get anything done—but enough was enough.

Cody gave his approval of his mother’s new boyfriend. “Before, you had no life,” he said. Diana had to agree with him.

Mateo invented a game where we try to guess the item being pawned by the appearance of the customer.

Murmur to me the song of our time.

The one from our dreams, the one that hurts: