Human Spines

Talking on a Train-IV

Dumaine

Four years ago

        Do people like Dad because he can play music well or because he's handsome? If I cut my hair, would I be handsome too? I want to ask Mom. Of course I want to ask Mom.

        Why don't I have any friends? What if I'm actually invisible? That'd be really cool. I could surgically remove people's feet while they were sitting and they wouldn't even know until they tried to stand. And, well, it would probably hurt... but not if I inject them with a numbing agent first. I could have a nice collection of people's limbs. I don't think I want that though. Limbs aren't cool, spines are cool. A nice collection of human spines.

        "What are you thinking about?" the girl in front of me asks. The teacher's left the room to get something. Nearly everyone is staring at me. I guess I'm not invisible.

        "Spines," I answer.

        "Spine? Backbone? You tryin' to muster up some courage for somethin'?" The guy beside her throws out. "Or are you just gonna sit in the classroom while everyone else eats lunch like you always do?"

        This is the first thing he's ever said to me.

        "I didn't mean to ruffle you. I was simply thinking about collecting human spines," I clear.

        "You're thinkin' 'bout collecting people's spines? How you gon' do that? Rip 'em outta folks with your stick arms?" someone else says.

        "Well sure, I would, if people didn't make a scene of stuff like that." I shrug.

        "There's no way your Lafayette's son," the first girl says. They all nod in agreement.

        "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" I'm confused. Why is this happening?

        "Have you ever looked at yourself?" A different girl spits. I guess that's a valid reason. Dad and I look nearly nothing alike. He's quite tall and I'm one of the shortest in my class. His face is full of expression with amazing bone structure while I either appear focused or surprised with my round cheeks. His eyes are an endless brown, sometimes amber, while mine are an obnoxious blue.

        And then there's the fact that Dad is clearly Black. Most people can't even tell I'm mixed.  I look much more like Mom.

        "And Lafayette's interesting. You're some creep. I bet you're adopted." Someone sneers.

        "Can you even play that accordion?" Another asks. I nod, knowing he doesn't care. "Liar. I bet you can't even play a tambourine!" He laughs. I've found the first person I want to rip the spine out of. I'm not a liar.

        I move to stand but drop as the teacher enters. Everyone turns back around. I spend the rest of class doing homework I don't plan on turning in while boiling venom of rage eats away at me.

****

        I should be walking to the square, where Dad's at, but I'm not. I'm walking wherever my feet take me. I want to know what Mom's doing. How many enemies she's killed, how many spines she could collect. Where she's at that she gets to kill people without everyone acting like idiots because something so natural as death occurred. Why must everyone make such a big deal of it? I really don't understand.

        The sun is setting, bleeding orange across the sky and my feet ache. I slide down against a building. In an alleyway. I wasn't expecting to find myself in an alleyway. Or two of my classmates. They walk toward me, the one I want to rip the spine out of and another taller one. I find my way back to my feet, set my case on the ground, and lay my hat on top of it.