Back to main Creative Writings page > My Life Edarra J., teen My father left when I was six and since then I guess we’ve moved every two years. There are seven of us. Half of us are from one Dad, half from another. The way I’ve been brought up, is there is always someone looking out for me. I used to think that my family was big, but then I met families with ten kids. So my family is not that big. I’m 16 and the second from the youngest. I skipped a grade in school, I’m a senior. Where I go to school, there are too many people in one space. Too many voices, too much drama going on. There’s not a normal day ever. The way that I walk, people tell me that I look angry. Really I’m just trying to get places quick; I’m a fast walker, for reasons I don’t really know. There are cliches in my school, the alternative crowd, the ghetto cliché, freshies, weird kids. I have friends in every group. I cross over because I’m into soccer and that attracts everyone. I mix around with every group. I’m black and white. Some people in my school see just as white, which kind of bothers me. They think I’m a just a white girl and have a lot of money. I’m supposed to be prissy and snotty. I do not understand their vision of what a white girl is supposed to me. Some of more ethnic girl in this school think they can walk all over me, Step into my face and yell at me. They think they can do what ever they want to the " Caucasian." I lived in CHA, on the 22nd floor. There was a lot of gangs and therefore a lot of police. When I was eight years old I was playing in the park and Someone threw a trashcan at this dude’s car, one was Latino, one was black. The guys with the car, took out a gun and we started running, running, running and this guys was driving on the sidewalk! And he was shooting out the window! I remember I went home and I started crying. I was so scared. When I am walking by myself and alone, I am cautious. I look around my shoulder a lot. I know what to do what not to do. There are certain colors I know not to wear in my school. If I wore yellow, they would think that I am a queen, the girl version of a Latin King. I know better then to do that. When I first moved into my neighborhood some of Kings Would yell, " Hey girl, what’s up? ". But I would just keep on walking down the street. Guys try to hook up with me, but I won’t hang out with no gang member, I don’t play that. The under cover police are so obvious. I don’t know what kind of car it is, but they all look alike and it is always a darkish maroon. They sit in the with their sun glasses and you can see their bullet proof vests They park in my neighborhood and they stick out totally. I get good grades at school because I do well on tests. But I don’t do the class work, I’m lazy. I do work, like 26 hours a week at Target. Maybe that has something to do with it. I’m a cashier but what I really like is to go out to the parking lot and push carts. Working there is not my superb choice of job because people treat me so bad. They think you’re the source of all the problems in the store, with prices and such. They take their problems to the store and then take it out on me. My mom, my older sister and me pool our money for the house. But I also buy a lot of clothes! My mom tells me to get a good education and I should save my money for school. The times that I have been picked by the police have been for breaking curfew. But when I work at night and they keep me late and what am I suppose to do? The store closes at ten and I don’t know what they expect from kids. I try to share a ride home, but sometimes it doesn’t work. And I look young and they notice me. When they bring you home, an adult has to sign a paper. It’s a pain. People talk to me, like this friends was telling me she was sleeping with the father of one of her friends and I told her, that is not cool. Her mom treated her bad, but that’s no reason. I was at a crossroads of what to do, like one of those things you see on TV. Should I tell somebody? She like had no self-esteem. She was freshman. And she dropped out of school and moved in with some of her friends. I was sent to an Adolescent Intensive Outreach Program, supposedly I had anger issues. I learned some things and progressed. They thoughts I was nuts, but I wasn’t, I was just mad all the time. Every little thing would just blow me up. They would tell me stop and think, but I am not the " stop and think" kind of person. I try to hold myself back, but I have no outlet. If I say something in my school it will progress to hitting. I got in a fight last year; they blamed me for the whole thing. My mother works part time as bartender and part time in a funeral home as a secretary. Sometimes she comes home and tells me really depressing stories about kids who die young. She’ll say to me, " life is short." And I’m like on my way to school! When my mom snaps, I understand she is stressed out. I know you have to come to terns with reality but I am sixteen I shouldn’t have to think about this stuff, it hinders me.