Read Online Into White by Randi Pink - Free Book Online Page B

school,
    Her big-titty bra stepped into the sun,
    There’s more to see than could ever be seen,
    More to do than could ever be done.
    But it wasn’t Simba or Toya, it was Katarina who was parting the Edgewood seas, reshuffling the circle of life, finally ruling the school. No, not Katarina. Me.
    And for the first time in my life, I felt powerful.

 
    KATARINA ASCENDING
    That was it: The door slammed on Toya, and Katarina emerged the victorious one. The hallway was a pressure cooker of emotion. Enthusiasm and horniness from the boys, fear and anger from the girls. I straightened my spine until it hurt; America’s Next Top Model judges said that the less comfortable you felt, the better you looked. So be it. Familiar eyes pored over me, but instead of avoiding the stares, I now bathed in them.
    I deliberately dropped my mechanical pencil. “Oh!” I said. Everyone stopped. Everyone! I bent down slowly, tooting my butt into the air to retrieve it. Mid-bend, the ocean waves stopped swooshing over the intercom, yet no one scrambled for class. Only silence. Stillness. Control.
    I picked up the pencil and went on to my next class, and so did everyone else.
    *   *   *
    My remaining classes brought more of the same. That day produced two more folded notes from guys, more eye rolls from girls than I could count, and an invitation to join the show choir without even trying out. The frilly note had been slipped through the slits of my locker, and it was marked Confidential in big red letters. The eye rolls made me feel triumphant. The fact that I could evoke visceral expressions of angst from rich white girls put a little extra pep in my step. The show choir invite, on the other hand, pissed me off. Toya had tried out for show choir three times and never made it. How was that fair?
    â€œHey, Katarina! Wait up!” I stopped at the sound of Alex’s voice.
    â€œAlex, hey,” I whispered. “Let’s go over here by the lockers.” I led him from the hallway to a more secluded alcove.
    â€œWhy are we whispering?”
    â€œNo reason,” I said. “Just don’t want too many people asking questions. That’s all.”
    â€œMakes sense,” he said, matching my whisper. “You holding up okay?”
    â€œYeah, I’m great, actually.”
    â€œOkay, just checking in. I want the play-by-play. See you at three.”
    Swim was my next and final class. As Toya, I’d never once dressed out for swim class. You’d think white people would see that black people dominate every sport with one glaring exception—swimming. Why? Aunt Evilyn would say, Cuckabugs and chlorine should never live in the same place . She was absolutely right about that one. Also, ethnic butts burst out of swimsuit bottoms. Ask any black female over the age of twelve what’s on her mind when she’s wearing a swimsuit; if she answers honestly, she’ll say her rear end. Some smart entrepreneur should invent ethnic bathing suits and chlorine substitute so blacks can finally take the sport of swimming from white people.
    But I didn’t have to worry about such nonsense any longer. Our swim teacher, Miss Baker, offered me a loaner suit. After stepping out of the stall, I could hear a pin drop in the locker room. The high-cut bright red one-piece made me look like a younger Baywatch babe. Usually that locker room was every boy’s fantasy, nakedness all over the place. But that day, even the cutest girls with the tightest butts kept their towels firmly shut until they reached the pool. I, on the other hand, deserted my towel and switched my skinny hips to the edge of the water. I danced a big toe on the surface, teasing my crowd. Finally, I sat on the rim, arched my back, and slid in slowly. I reveled in the floating sensation. I’d never actually allowed my hair into any body of water other than the bathtub.
    I took a deep breath and lowered myself underwater.