the american children

 

2009, Summer

We hit the trailer park across the highway from the food store after we met up at a park behind it. I was thirteen and so were two others. One was fifteen and another sixteen. We always went out of our way on ridiculous journeys for cigarettes or drugs or alcohol. When we had them we always had a place to do them, but we never did. A few of them lived in the trailer park or had a parent or two that lived there. It was a good way to get these things; from their parents. As long as you had money, it didn't matter. Everyone hated us. I did too.

                                          -D

2004, Spring

I was five years old then. It was the first time I heard of my real father. It wasn't like they hid it from me, it was obvious even to someone my age at the time. I was black, they weren't. I guess I was still happy about having a real mom, though nobody thought she was. I just didn't like when she hit me. My dad was in jail all the way across the country. I was born there, but we had moved after he denied me as his. I still look at his record online once in a while.

                                          -K

2008, Winter

It was our new years party. Mom and Earl had been so excited, they were having company over, and my big sister was coming to visit too. After it got dark we got sent to our rooms while they stumbled around drunk still sobering up from their pre-party highs. I knew what they did when they went downstairs. I knew why it smelled that way, and why we weren't allowed in certain areas. I knew what would happen if we disobeyed. I didn't want to be that cold again, and have to be laughed at for it. It didn't matter if I was nine and didn't understand, it was cruel.

                                          -B