(no subject)
A little back story:
Ben was big into the whole bandana thing. He wore them on his head a lot. (In fact, true to form, the first time I ever saw him TJ and I caught him mid-bandana adjustment as he strolled down the hall.) So, last February, on the day of his wake a bunch of us tied one around our arms. I don't know why, but I didn't like having it on. No one in Brighton (with the exception of Anna and TJ) had any idea what had happened, so by the time second period hit I had had to answer the question, "Hey, what's that for?" approximately 1.3 billion times. Let me tell you, explaining something like that 1.3 billion times over the coures of an hour and a half is no good. So I took it off. I felt like an asshole for doing this, but I took it off. I went to put it into my bag, but it didn't feel right stuffing this bandana, the one meant to remember Ben, into the infinite abyss that is my partially-dilapitated backpack. So instead, I tied it in on to that handle thing on the top of it. It's still there. I put it there thinking I'd just take it off when I got home, but for some reason that never happened and the same navy blue bandana has been tied there ever since. OK. Now the story.
I'm walking home eighth period today, and there's this person behind me. I quickened my pace a bit to see if they would try and keep up. They did. So I crossed over to the other side of the street. This person (who, thanks to a quick "you-think-i'm-just-trying-to-avoid-getting-hit-by-a-car-but-really-i'm-trying -to-see-your-face" type of look over my shoulder, I caught a quick glimpse of) crossed the street too. He was a large, husky, (and huffing - I don't think he was used to walking this fast) black man. And he was following me.
And then he started talking to me.
"Hey."
I ignored him.
"I said HEY YOU GIRL."
I turned around. "Me?"
"Yeah. Where'd you get your blue flag?"
"Blue flag?"
"On your backpack."
"Oh. It was... for a friend."
"Your friend? He was in a gang."
"N-no...? I don't think so."
"Then what's it for?"
"Well... he died, see..."
"Oh. Gang violence?"
"No."
"Oh. His own gang do it?"
"No there were no gangs. No."
"Oh. So what happened?"
"Well... he killed himself."
"Oh. So you in a gang?"
"No."
"Well you wouldn't say it if you was. Would you?"
"Uh... I guess I would, actually."
"And you ain't."
"Nope."
"Ah. I'm sorry girl I thought you was in a gang."
What a guy.