The White Girl: A Short Story

Decent Essays
They shoot the white girl first. Rosie watched in disbelief as Nancy fell onto the soft white ground. Her skin quickly assumed the hue of the snow. This was the first time Rosie had ever seen white folk shoot down one of their own.

The newly convicted felons where put into cuffs and dragged into the police van. All in front of Mr. Turner’s jewelry store. Rosie could feel the stares crawling up her back as her head was shoved into the door. It slammed shut, leaving them to manifest in their racing thoughts of fear, shock and shame.

They checked into the local jail county where they were mercilessly stripped and searched at the command of roaring voices. There the dolphin shaped bracelet charm - that had been unlawfully removed from Turner’s store - clinked as
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Turner turned to Rosie giving her the usual glare of disgusted and Nancy the glare of pity & shame (they often got the same looks from strangers who didn’t seem to understand why ‘a lady of Nancy’s social status’ would associate herself with ‘trouble making Negros’).

As they approached the store’s exit Rosie pulled out the dolphin charm to a wail of sirens. That’s when the gun went off. She was hit. She began to feel…

I slowly gain consciousness. I can taste the blood in my mouth. The drops stain my increasingly melanated skin. My eyes focus and I see an out of place and an extremely pale woman through the bars and hidden on the other side of her is Rosie - it was her mother. I begin to hastily sit up but I’m slowed down by my gushing head (It could have been worse if my kinks & coils weren’t there to cushion the fall). I call out Rosie’s name. She simply flicks her silky blonde hair and walks right along. The sheriff yelled “Pipe down you thieving Negro!”

How dare I be locked up for a crime I did not commit? How dare I think that they would shoot the white girl first? I am Nancy she is I. This melanated shift was all a
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