A  novel opening, inspired by the work of Malorie Blackman. 

            Neither side

“I’m not White enough, but not Black enough either. . .”

--Shuffle, shuffle . . I turn to one side, checking out my appearance in my bedroom mirror. Shuffle, shuffle . .  I turn to the other. It’s super early, so I’m yawning constantly but my tummy quakes at the idea of a new era, a new start. My intestines actually feel like they are floating effortlessly inside me. All my mind is fixated on is all the eyes that will soon be locked on me, judging me with every step and holding me accountable. I don’t need a bunch of lawyers. I hope to be accepted. —

For context, Adela is a 15-year-old girl who is going to join a new high school in exactly 2 hours - 36 minutes - 26 seconds. Long before her birth, her dad had migrated from Cameroon - which is filled with luxury and class, where the wind blows against the greenery, leaving it satisfied. Previously, Adela’s father had met his White American wife on a trip to Connecticut. A love story that went on for days, months, years, decades - and produced two kids. Adela is the oldest, with a younger brother, Michael.

*School bell rings*

– Great, now the sky has darkened and looks overwhelmed by these murky, mysterious clouds. They started to bawl. Just great.--

“Are you white or black?” ”Are you new to the school?” “You’re mixed, right?” “Why does your hair look like that?” “Are you white or black?” “Are you new to the school?” “You’re mixed, right?” “Are you white or black? . . .

– Deep breath Adela –

“Okay class, you now have 30 seconds to discuss among your tables why this is,” commanded the teacher.

A hand reaches out across the desk.

“Oh my gosh, your hair feels sooooooooo cool!”

 “Oh! Uhm thanks.”

– You didn’t even ask beforehand.--

“Why is your hair so curly? You would look amazing with straight hair.”

 “Oh Thanks!”

– Great but I never asked.--

“Oh my days, it does feel cool! If only my hair were as pretty as yours! You would look so good in braids.”

 “Oh! Haha . .” 

– I hate being the ‘new fashionable’ beauty standard. Compliments sometimes make you feel as weird as the insults  –

“Ay, you look fye! Add bro on snap!”

– Ew. –

  “Uhm”

– You even end up bumping into guys who only like the way you look, not who you actually are. –

This is just the beginning too.

*bell rings*

Each step she took that day was one step closer to home, one step closer to her bed, one step closer to her diary, one step closer to spilling all the thoughts that were currently racing each other, dizzying and distracting her from her first day of lessons.

– Today is going okay, I guess. Getting approached by loads of people for the way I look - figures. Nothing new. Anyways, thinking about it now (and I can’t believe I’m thinking this), the guy from earlier, he didn’t look too bad . . All I know is that he’s white. There was something a bit different about him though. Haven’t found out his name yet. –

*click, clack*

– I opened the front door and stepped inside, the warm air greeting my face. Mom had the heaters turned on. It felt nice,cosy and comforting, a warm place to float in. –

“Hi Mom!”

“Hey honey! How was your first day?”

“It was brilliant! I loved it”

– Could have said more, but saved it all for my diary… -

• 
  January 22nd 2024

-It’s been a few  months since I added “bro” on snap. His name is Finny. Fin for short. I don't know what, but something about him stands out... 

• 
  April 3rd 2024

He does stand out. All the others just think he’s a white boy. But he never lets any day go to waste. He uses every opportunity he can to put on brightening creams and lotions. He hated being neither side even when he was very little. He always said to himself: “I’m not White enough but I’m not Black enough either.” So he picked a side. 

They didn’t want him to look like a “nobody.”

Fin is not who the crowd thinks he is.  .

He’s. Just. Like. Adela.