She's a Mean Old H4 Bus, Cpt 7

Chapter Seven: Amazonia

“No, I’m seventeen.”

Freddy shook his head at the woman sitting at the desk. The Visitor’s Center at the National Zoo had two or three anterooms that were used for summer camps during the week and children’s birthday parties on weekends. Freddy could hear kids singing at some kind of animal game through the walls.

The classroom chosen for what had once been Marion Barry’s DC Summerworks orientation had little chairs, a teacher’s desk, everything. Freddy had been so nervous about working. Now he wanted to laugh.

“You’re nearly too old to do the program; we cut off at eighteen.” The old black lady said. Freddy raised his eyebrows. “And, you’re at Amazonia—that’s lucky.”

Earlier, while she explained basic job duties, showing up to work on time and that he should never forget his uniform, Mrs. Sanders added that it had been her husband’s project originally—it was his idea to help recruit local kids to work at the zoo. And, she’d met her husband at the zoo when they were both working together in the office, and how he used to be such a funny guy who really believed in watching out for the youth. Freddy knew by her intonation, a black elder’s sudden raised eyebrow, and hanging on the word “our” that it meant she and her husband were especially worried about the black children. Black and brown. Black and Latino. Going to Bell Multicultural High School, he’d seen teachers and grownups put them all together all the time. “Our” kids. Why? Because, sometimes it felt like Black and Latino kids needed the most help. Freddy appreciated it and felt a sense of pride now that he was finally old enough to understand everything. You graduate, then you get to college. Don’t get somebody pregnant. Don’t do drugs, don’t become a statistic…

Yes, Freddy had finally graduated.

“… Freddy Guzman, you just call me Miss Amelia if you need anything.”

“Yes, Mrs. Sanders.”

“No, I’m Amelia Sanders.”

Freddy confused, but before he’d left the Visitor’s Center, he learned what it meant. Camp counselors, kids, security guards, the guy at the front desk with even bigger glasses than she had—all of them nodded and gave “Miss Amelia” a real hello, asked about her own kids, asked if she needed anything. And then, their eyes flitted to Freddy if they had enough time, and congratulated him, for being in such good hands. “Miss Amelia” was a show of respect.

“You’re like the Don or something.”

“Go get to work, young man.”

She's a Mean Old H4 Bus, Cpt 6

Chapter Six: His Hoodie

Marlin, the busdriver finally stepped on the kid’s shoe to wake him up. Freddy Guzman was a black kid, fifteen, Marlin guessed. Though he raised his eyebrows when he finally got the kid’s full name.

“Wait, you said Guzman? You’re Spanish. All this time, I thought you and your people were the only black folks in Mount Pleasant, gettin’ on my bus. I felt so sad for ya’ll…”

“Shut up. You say latino, or you say guatemalteco, but I’m not a friggin’ language. My mom’s black. My dad’s in Guatemala.”

Marlin sucked in a breath, bit his lip a moment, then let out a low whistle. Freddy fiddled with his red hoodie. The big headphones resting on his shoulders blasted something pum-pum-pum Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, marchando mi combo forma un alboroto... “And, boy, you disrespectful. You always been disrespecting me on my own bus… but don’t worry, H4 and I, we bout to fix that.”

Writing with a broken heart

More single gal writing advice (and slightly entertaining drama too!)

Sorry that it’s been a while, fellow writers… readers… what are you? Write-eaders? Wreaders?

Um, but when you’re reaching down into your most sensitive self to write in any case, and then while your hand is down in there, other sharp things cut up your fingers, ruin your perfect manicure, wedge deep under your nails, you do tend to whip your hand back out and silent-cry over how bad that hurts. My hiatus was a combination of a case of the Satur-daze and also getting over a series of very depressing, domino-affected situations.

1. A good friend that I dated suddenly dropped out of my life and pulled the silent treatment on me while maintaining a seamless, happy friendship with someone else we were both close with.
2. Two more “friends” of mine fessed up to something truly shady that went on for a long time behind my back while I was still trying to heal from #1, and then either boasted about it or blamed me for having a hurt reaction.
3. Not long after #2 hit the fan, I thought I was moving on with yet another great guy who it turned out strung me along for weeks before finally calling, and then after rushing me out for a sketch "I finally have time for you" last minute date, disappeared.
4. Even more of ye olde bullshit while recovering from #1 + #2 + #3...