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Prince's Pauper

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8 April 2010, 02:23 PM   #1
Joined: 11 Jul 2008
Posts: 229
Last edited by ‹Mad♥Hatter♥Love›, 9 April 2010

"Hey, you date black girls?"
  I watched from behind the white boy as the girls at the concession stand--as loud,
ghetto, and trashy as they were--inquire about his personal business. 
  "I just want a red powerade," he said in a clecnhed, breathless voice. Meaning, he
didn't. He would've said yes if he did. Unless, he didn't just like them.
  "Do you date black girls?" they inquired again, loud. I could smeel their musty, no
bathing smell from three feet away. God.
  "No." He handed one of the girls his money.
  She pushed it back at him. "Then we ain't gone serve you."
  "What the fuck?" he asked, throwing his arms up.
  After he left, I pushed forward and bought two, one red, one blue. I grabbed my change,
and started jogging. He was turning up the little walk-way thing that allowed us back in
the bleachers. "Hey! Wait up!" I shouted, sprinting. 
  He paused. "What?" His voice was hard and hostile, his eyes shooting flames.
  "Here." I handed him the red powerade. "Not all of us are like that, okay? There's a few
of us good ones left. So, here, that was wrong how they treated you. I swear to God, it's
not posioned or anything like that."
  "It's not good to swear," he responded with a grin. "And thanks."
  "No money needed to pay. Think of it as my civillian duty," I told him, pushing the
offered two dollars for me.
  He nodded and left.
  For some reason, I felt disappointed. Maybe I had had a hunch that we would become
friends, or something more. Oh well. He would stay in my mind, and I would always be that
black girl that gave him the Powerade.

8 April 2010, 02:34 PM   #2
Joined: 11 Jul 2008
Posts: 229
Last edited by ‹Mad♥Hatter♥Love›, 8 April 2010
Chapter One--Kyle Prince

  I pumped my legs down my street, slapping the cement with methodical beats. One, two,
three, one, two, three, one, two, three. My mind, oddly, was on the girl I had met earlier
in the spring for some reason. Her memory brought up anger I hadn't known was in me--anger
for those girls I had met. No, they weren't girls. They were ghetto niggars. Simple as
  I slowed down when I reached the end of the street to walk back. I put my hand to my
forhead to block out the sun, and to wipe off the sweat beating down my face. My house
wasn't even visable. I was three miles down. And not even that out of breath.
  I saw a car rolling down the street slowly, along with two girls in the front seat,
dancing and singing their hearts out. I sighed, hiding a smile and started walking back.
  Only moments after coming back home, I pulled my shirt off, admiring my perfect
  "Kyle! Is that you?" My mother's very nasal voice sounded, and I was greeted by her
freshly made face, except for one lipstick mark.
   "Yeah." My voice was hard. I didn't like either of my parents and it was for that
reason that I stayed away from both of them--and defied everything they stood for. 
   Before she could ask me to do something and I could deny it and feel guilty about it
later, I ran upstairs. I slammed the door to my room, before collpasing on my bed. I
sighed, then yawned. Three o'clock on a Sunday afternoon, first day of school tomorrow. At
my new, wonderful, school, of ALL black people, which happens to be the same school that
the girl was wearing when I met her. 
   A hint of a smile had barely touched my features before Rodney, my dad, ruined it by
calling my phone. I didn't bother to answer, but instead threw the phone against the wall.
Through all this, I had never once wanted to cry. Not during the divorce, not during the
remarriage, and not even when we moved to Louisiana. It simply didn't faze me at all,
except for making me hate them with a passion. However, what it did do, was make me want
to bash thier little heads against my knee multiple times.
   I stood up, groaning. All black people. The only reason I had decided to go through
with this was because 1) my father was a racist bastard, which was funny and 2) I was
attending his old high school. So Mom told me either attend that school, or go to the only
other school avaiable--John G. High, Home of the Mighty Sharks. Maybe they would beat me
up, and maybe they would kill me. Whatever. As long as I did't go to that preppy academy.
  I searched through my clothes, looking for something accesible to wear. I didn't want to
go looking like a nerd, so belt and khakis were out. But then if  I dressed like them,
they would think I was trying to mock them. Fuck. I don't want to get beat up, or go
through life bearing wedges through my pale white ass. I pulled out some jeans and a
tee-shirt that was three sizes too big. The jeans sagged. Now, what to do with my hair?
  It was the weirdest color I had ever seen--dark brown, but the bottom part of my bang
didn't fade into blonde, no it just changed. No getting lighter, no fading, just up and
CHANGED! I could spike it, or wear it down.....wear it down. Well, hell, I just managed to
waste ten minutes exactly.
  I entered the school grounds, heading for the office. I had passed by this school many
times, and I had never once been prepared for it. The halls were long and wide, students
milled around, talking and arguing, their ghetto slang prominent. I sighed. More than once
I heard 'cracker.' 
  Upon entering the hall, one girl pushed me against the wall and tried to make out with
me, her eyes flushed with some kind of animal hunger. I pushed her away, before swaggering
up the hall. I had hung out with two or three black boys enough to know that they walked a
certain way. A certain, hold-your pants up swagger that was hard to mock, but I had it
down pat, saying as how they didn't laugh or anything.
  "Mayne, guh, back up!" one boy said a bit loudly, pushing a girl to the wall. "It's
over, Tanya. Yo ass too needy and whiny. Shut the fuck up sometimes."
  Tanya hung on to him, following him out of the office.
  I leaned against the counter, watching the back of the long-haired black girl as she
held one finger up, closing her eyes. "Baby, bay, baby!" she said, adding stress to the
last word. "I know he ain't pushin' up on ha like dat! Ooooo wee! Dat guh crezy! He
woulda been knocked two ways to da lef', boo, an' two mo ways to da right!" She turned
around, noticed me, and smiled. "Oh, hey! I'm sorry. People's these days is too weak--they
need to get some backbone. Anyway, honey, I'm guessin' your our new white student? We
ain't had nothin' but the speculation bout you for three weeks now! 'Bout time you show
  She was the girl from that day, and she wasn't as....proper and polite as I remembered
her. But I liked this new her. "I'm sorry? You know, it was summer."
  "Was it? Boy! This Louisiana weather just merge togetha and I don't be knowin' whether
or now it's--oh shit! That's my song!" In less than a minute, she was popping her body in
weird ways. "Boo, this song will have you dancin' dances you don't even know how to
dance!" She threw her hands up and smiled. "Toodie, turn dat shit off. It's 'spose to be
professional up in my office."
  Toodie turned his iPod down, smiling. "Girl, you get crazy everytime I see you."
  "Get crazy? You mean this is normal for her?" Before I could stop myself, the words were
out of my mouth.
  Expecting a big blow-out with her, I prepared myself. But instead, I got a cute little
dimpled smile and a wink. "Alright, white boy, watch yo back. You gone need somethin' out
this office and you gone be waitin' for a long time....speakin' of, I ain't neva heard
what you wanted!"
  "My schedule."
  This girl was crazy. Exactly what they didn't have at my old school--she was wild and
hyper, a bit mad. Goofy and funny. I honestly liked her.
  "O....kay! chedule smedd....jew-uhl? Whateva. Anyways, you don't need one sweetie.
You're a handsome woman!" she sung, pinching my cheeks. She turned around, gasping wildly.
"Ohmygoodness! Ms. Nickki! Ms. Nickki! Did you see my picture from this summer in Flo
Rida?" She whipped out a iPhone and touched a few buttons, pulling up a picture. Dancing
over to the woman at the desk, she showed her the picture. I was curious to see it when
Ms. Nickki said, 
  "Look at you! Sexy sassy girl. I raised you well."
   The girl grinned. "I know you did, boo! I was all OVA da place up in Florida. Guh, I
toe it up!" She shook her hips. "Dey ain't know bout dat N'Awlins baby! Dey don't know!"
  "Look here, Hood, this is my office of professionalism. Now be professional."
  "I'm is so sorry. Hey handsome, what's your name?" Her ghetto slang had taken the proper
tone I remembered. "Something, something, white boy?"
   I shook my head. "Close, but not quiet. It's Kyle Prince, White Boy."
  It was easy to fall under her charm, which I found was mostly in that dimpled grin and
those sparkly gray-brown eyes. 
  "Mmmhhmm. Prince. Nice.....can I be yo princess boo?" She stuck her lips out and gave me
a pouty expression. "Ooo, look at the picture!" She handed me the iPhone, which held the
picture of her on it. She was laying on the beach, belly down, with her hair flying behind
her, and that dimpled grin just as charming as ever.
  "Gorgeous," I remarked, meaning it. She brought out the truest forms of me.
  She grinned. "Trust. I know." She tucked her phone back into her pocket, then jumped
across the counter with a grin. "Anyways, we pretty much have the same schedule except for
that I'm taking two extra classes--Religion and Art. You can choose from Religion, Art,
PE, Drama, and....Spanish or French."
  "Religion and Art."
  "Yay! You can be my best friend!" She laid out on the corner.
  "Girl, this ain't yo house! Get off that damn counter!" Ms. Nickki said, smiling while
fussing at her.
  "TINY TINY TINY!" a boy shouted, pulling her off the coutner in one yank.
  "BERNARDO HOWARD!" she shrieked. "STOP TOUCHIN' ME! I don't like you and I never will!"
  "You love me," he responded, hugging her.
   Her eyes flared. "No. I don't. You asked me out five times. I said no each time. I
don't like you, okay? You failed four times, you're ugly, and you're not as good at
anything as you think you are. Go away." She looked close to tears.
   I grabbed her hand, pulling her towards me. "Hey, man, she's my best friend. You can
have her on the weekends."
   Bernardo glared at me. "Look here, you peice of redneck white trash," he started.
  I opened my mouth to speak, but the tiny firecracker beside me was already going off on
him. "Look here, you piece of black trash. He's never failed, he believes in God, he's
nicer, smarter, and cuter--even for a white boy--and his last name is Prince. Meaning, he
comes from some kind of royalty, whereas you are--and will always be--the pauper that
nobody likes. Now. Get. Out."
  Damn. Told him.
  He smacked her on the butt, grinning. "You want me."
  "I'll want you more when you're dead and not bothering me," she sung picking up the
  He took off running, and she followed him, swinging the broom. "Wait on me to come back,
Kyle. One minute."
  I laughed at her. 
  She returned a minute later, the broom broke, and torturedscreams being released from
the hallway.
  "Now, let's go to class."

8 April 2010, 03:38 PM   #3
Guest Poster
It seems farely awesome but i'm still a little confused.

9 April 2010, 06:40 PM   #4
Joined: 11 Jul 2008
Posts: 229
Last edited by ‹Mad♥Hatter♥Love›, 9 April 2010
Chapter Two

  I grunted, throwing the 150 dumbells down. From across my room, AJ was on my bed,
watching me weight-lift quietly, sometimes flipping a page in her magazine. Occasionally,
she would make a comment, then giggle over something in the magazine, but otherwise she
was quiet. 
  She put the magazine down as I sat up, my stomach aching from the 150 pound sit-ups. I
stretched, watching her as she laid across my bed, belly down. Her hair hung over her face
so that I could only see the gray in her eyes, and God, was it pretty.
  "I like those muscles," she remarked, grinning.
  "Most girls do," I told her, winking. "Ugh. My stomach aches, though." It was sore right
there from too much excercising. "And I have a little knot in my back."
  "Oh, well Mama's a messager, I can fix your back for ya. C'mere." She stood up, patting
the bed beneath her.
  I got up and walked over to her. If you had told me two months ago that I was going to
be sitting in my room alone with a black girl, I would've laughed in your face. However,
now it just seems natural. Also, those black boys have awakened a whole new side in me.
I'm more conceited, more perverted, more sexual. Only with them, though. AJ doesn't play
that and the boys who don't know, understand not to touch her, and the boys who dare touch
her, may the Lord bless them because she will go buck wild.
  And I'm also using slang.
  I laid out on my bed and she climbed onto my back, her hands starting at the nape of my
neck as she sung 'Rockstar' to me by Nickleback. "I wanna big bathroom I can play baseball
in..." Her hands caressed my body in soothing circles, taking out all the nooks, crannies,
cricks, and other stressful shit I had going on. I closed my eyes, relaxing under her
touch. Her song took on a different tune and she started humming something sweet and
sexy...and..I moaned under fingertips.
  Just before I could do anything rash, my mother walked through the door, face draining
of all color, and then glaring at me. "KYLE HAROLD PRINCE!" she screamed. "How are you be
in here with a black girl? On your back, fucking you?"
  My first instinct was to retailiate by fighting, something else I had learned at my new
school. My second instinct was to scream back. But I finally settled on some civilized
talk. "Fucking her? Really, Mom? While we're both dressed....and both of our clothes are
on? Am I missing something here? There ain't no fucking going on."
  Her hand went across my face. "Don't you ever use 'ain't' in this house!"
  I clenched my fist, feeling the sting in my cheek. AJ got off my back and I stood up. I
was already seven inches taller than my mom, and fifty pounds more. In muscles. If she
really wanted to mess with me, I could easily beat her ass.
  "Ain't. Ain't. Ain't," I responded chillingly. She made me so mad. I wanted to knock her
where she stood, but, despite the fact that I disliked her with everything in me, she was
my mom and I had to deal with her. "I'm going take AJ home, and then I'll come back home
and pretend you don't exist, got it?"
  Before she could respond, I stomped out. It wasn't until I heard AJ's screams that I
realized she wasn't behind me. "LET ME GO!" she shrieked. "Crazy hoe!"
  I went back inside to see my mom holding her in a choke-hold, glaring at her, growling,
"You'll NEVER come back in this house, or you will die. Got it? Stay away from my son."
  She threw AJ at me. "Come right back home or you're grounded."
  I rolled my eyes and scoffed, letting AJ go in front of me this time.

"It's only fair," I said, pushing her back down her bed. I was sitting on it, open-legged,
while she danced away from me. "You gave me a great message, now it's my turn to give you
  She sighed, then laughed. "No," she giggled, getting back up.
  I grabbed her waist, then wrapped my legs around her. "C'mon. You're stressed."
  "I am?" She arched an eyebrow, but relaxed into my touch. I rubbed my fingers into her
soft skin, soothing the velvety skin underneath my fingertips with soft, stroking motions.
"Feels good," she commented.
   I smiled. "I know. I'm multi-talented, baby."
   "You know you gettin' some hood, white boy. Some hood ferreal," she remarked, shivering
under my touch. I do tend to have that effect on people. Girls espeically. "You need to
get home 'fo Mommy starts actin' a damn fool again. I ain't gone have no KKK at my house
at no one in da mornin' burnin' shit down. You don't know, boo. I go straight ackin' a
donkeh on dem. Scare dem motha fuckas away."
  "AJ!" a voice sounded, feet pounding upstairs.
  "I have no doubt that you will," I responded, finishing up my message. "Who's that?"
  "My baby brotha. Hey, Rolex!" 
  The boy, who couldn't be more than four, came running in the room, flinging himself in
her arms. "Hey, AJ. Who dat white boy? And why he huggin' you? I'm gone tell Mama!"
  "You was gone tell her somethin' anyway, baby boy. Rollie, get out. I'll come help with
your homework and fix dinna in a minute. I'm gone tell my white boy bye." She patted
Rolex's butt, then stood up. "Be, kidd!" She opened her arms for a hug. "Tell Mother I
said hey!"
  I laughed. "Bitch, you crazy for real."
  "Ohhh! No he ain't callin' me no bitch! But you right, doe, fa real, baby boy."
  I wrapped my arms around her, and she returned the favor, moving me from side to side.
"BYE BUDDEH!" She ran down the hall and I followed, leaving the house to her screaming,
  That girl was crazy for real. All seriousness and joking aside, she had real problems.
  I was on my way home when I got my sixth call of the last two hours from Mom. "I'm on my
way home." I hung up before she could say anything.
  Pulling into our driveway, I let the truck idle for a moment. I hated my mom, I did. It
was against my religion to hate anybody, but, damn I hated her to a max. But I think I
hated Dad more. Nah, they was about equal.
  I pounded my fist against the steering wheel, trying to take my mind off dangerous
subjects. No need to tread troubled waters. I thought about AJ. She was crazy and wild,
but there was so much people missed. They saw a natural born comedian--or a crackbaby,
which she defensively defended. She had the mind of somebody wanting to do right, but I
think she was too crazy to even try to do right. She was sweet, though. Sweet and crazy.
She took those little freshmens and younger ones under her wing and had them 'dancing
dances they ain't know they could do!' But she talked to them about their education.
Everyone assumed she wasn't going anywhere in life.
  She had already been accepted to three colleges. Three BIG colleges at that. And she was
going to the one closest to home to take care of her mom and baby brother. Her dad was off
in the war somewhere, fighting for our country. She had great parents--the kind everybody
wanted. However, life wasn't that good and God wasn't that fair. He apparently had a sense
of humor.
  I opened the door, tranquility passing through me. When I made it inside, my mother, my
older sister, and my younger brother were all sitting on the sofa, awaiting my arrival. My
sister looked eager for some gossip to spread about her new 'ghetto' brother, and my
brother just wanted to see me get into trouble. Was it possible to hate everyone related
to you? Because it was definitely happening.
  "Pull your pants up," Mom said in a clenched, barely controlled voice.
  To aggravate her, I sagged them some more, then grinned. "They were up." I caught her
blue eyes, daring her to touch me. 
  "I don't want you hanging with her."
  "I go to an all-black school, Mom. By most standards, she's one of the best ones
  "Well, you're dropping out tomorrow."
   What? My thoughts instantly flashed to AJ. I wouldn't leave her. "I'm eighteen
remember? I can actually move out. Would you like that?" I knew she wouldn't. She was too
weak. She needed me in this house since Dad no longer donated any money in this house.
  She paled. "No! But I'm your mother. You will listen to me."
  "Not even when I'm dead, Mom. Nice try, though." I went upstairs without being
  I was fucking tired of her shit.

9 April 2010, 10:35 PM    #5
Joined: 11 Jul 2008
Posts: 229
Chapter Three

  I looked into my pool to see my girlfriend in there, wearing nothing but a skimpy white
bikini that hid more than it showed. For the first time in two and half weeks, I wasn't
with AJ. She had to go to New Orleans to go pick up her dad from the airport. He was there
for the week, so I would only visit with her during school and once during the week. You
should've seen her face, though. Eyes sparkling, that dimpled grin wide and beautiful and
charming. I'm not one of those guys who lie to themselves. I'm crushing on her, but
barely. She's black. It's not natural.
  "Hey, baby. Your mom said it was okay." She got out of the water and kissed me. "Go get
dressed and, um, come swim with me?" Her voice held more invitation. It was something a
boy couldn't turn down at all.
  I moaned, clutching her tighter. I had forgotten I had a girlfriend honestly with all
the drama in the house. But how did I forget her? She's tall, has nice breasts and ass,
and blonde hair. All thoughts of AJ vanished. It was Katie and her only. 
  I pulled on my shorts, running back to the pool to get to her.
  I walked into the water, pulling her close to me and kissing her. "I missed you baby.
Sorry I haven't been callin' much," I whispered against her lips, putting one hand under
the string of her bikini. "I've really been busy." Please fall for that lie.
  "It's okay," she said breathlessly, slipping a hand under the waist of my swim trunks.
"You look good, baby. All nice and muscled. Sexy." She purred, turning me on.
   I unhooked her bikini top. "We're home alone."
  "I know." She pushed against me harder, kissing me more. I could've taken her right

"So what'd you do yesterday?" AJ asked, opening the door for me.
  "Thank you. And nothing," I lied. I didn't tell her I had slept with somebody. It wasn't
her business anyway.
  "Aww. Well Daddy took me and Rollie to the zoo in New Orleans, and we had so much fun!"
She sighed wistful. "I don't want him to go back, white boy. I don't. I miss him enoguh
and what if he dies?" Her voice cracked and I looked over to see tears in her eyes. I
pulled her into me for a hug.
  "He won't, baby doll, he won't."
  "But he might! You don't know that!"
  "And you don't know he's going to die, so we're both stuck up someone's ass that has
constipation huh?"
   She laughed. "WHAT?"
   I shrugged. "Made ya laugh."

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