There was one other child in my class, though, who reminded me of a different sort of pain. Hre name was Coretta, and before my arrival she had been the only black person in our grade. She was plump and dark and didn't seem to have many friends. From the first day, we avoided each other but watched from a distance, as if direct contact would only remind us more keenly of our isolation.
Finally, during recess one hot, cloudless day, we found ourselves occupying the same corner of the playground. I don't remember what we said to each other, but I remember that suddenly she was chasing me around the jungle gyms and swings. She was laughing brightly, and I teased hre and dodged this way and that, until she finally caught me and we fell to the ground breathless. When I looked up, I saw a group of children, faceless before the glare of the sun, pointing down at us.
"Coretta has a boyfriend! Coretta has a boyfriend!"
The chants grew louder and more kids circled us.
"She's not my g-girlfriend," I stammered. I looked to Coretta for some assistance, but she just stood there looking down at the ground. "Coretta's got a boyfriend! Why don't you kiss her, mister boyfriend?"
"I'm not her boyfriend!" I shouted. I ran up to Coretta and gave her a slight shove; she staggerd back and looked up at me, but still said nothing. "Leave me alone!" I shouted again. And suddenly Coretta was running, faster and faster until she disappeared from sight. Appreciative laughs rose around me. Then the bell rang, and the teachers appeared to round us back into class.
To this day he has never apologized publicly to little miss Coretta. Since it is now big news what our candidates for President did before they were adults shouldn't we be discussing this incident? And if not, why?