Tommy walked into his first classroom, the cacophony of chatter fading as he stepped inside. The room fell into a tense silence, all eyes turning to him.
He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of their stares. The teacher, a stern-looking woman with wire-rimmed glasses, glanced up from her desk.
"Class, we have a new student joining us today," she announced, her voice carrying a hint of disapproval. "Introduce yourself to the class, please."
Tommy stood at the front, his hands clenching and unclenching nervously.
"The name's Tommy Jones," he began, his voice steady despite the anxiety gnawing at him. "I'm from Kentucky, y'all."
A murmur rippled through the classroom, punctuated by whispers and stifled laughter.
"I wonder why he's here."
"Must be lost or something."
"He looks different."
Tommy heard snippets of their comments—"What's he doing here?" and "Must be lost."
The teacher cleared her throat, bringing the room to order. "Okay, let's get this lesson going. Turn to page one in your textbooks."
She began to write on the chalkboard, outlining the new topic they had started the previous day.
"Today, we're continuing our discussion on the causes of the American Civil War," she explained, her voice firm.
As the teacher elaborated, Tommy tried to follow along, grappling with the unfamiliar subject matter but he barely had an idea of what she was talking about.
When a question arose about the economic differences between the regions, he hesitantly raised his hand, hoping to contribute.
"Can anyone tell me what factors contributed to the tensions between the North and the South?"
When he raised his hand to ask a question, the teacher's eyes flickered over him and then away, deliberately ignoring him. Tommy lowered his hand, feeling a mix of frustration and isolation.
The second class was no better.
The teacher, a middle-aged man with a perpetually bored expression, glanced up from his desk with mild disinterest.
"Class, we have a new student," he announced in a monotone voice. "Introduce yourself."
Tommy stood before the class again, his nerves prickling beneath their gazes.
"The name's Tommy Jones," he stated, trying to project confidence. "I'm from Kentucky, y'all."
"Alright, let's continue from where we left off yesterday," the teacher said, shuffling some papers on his desk. "We were discussing the Industrial Revolution and its impact on American society."
He began to lecture, his voice droning on about urbanization and technological advancements. Tommy struggled to stay engaged because the words were all unfamiliar. He was indeed different.
"What were the main economic factors that contributed to the divide between the industrial North and the agrarian South?" the teacher asked, scanning the room for raised hands.
Several students eagerly raised their hands, eager to impress.
One student, a boy with neatly combed hair and a smug smirk, sneered under his breath, "Bet that new boy, Tommy, ain't never even seen a cotton field."
The teacher, catching the comment, paused momentarily before continuing without addressing it directly. "Yes, it's important to grasp the economic forces at play during this time," he said, his tone carrying a subtle edge.
Tommy felt a pang of discomfort at the remark, recognizing the underlying sarcasm. The prejudice was just getting too much.
One student snickered, "I wonder if he knows how to read," loud enough for the entire room to hear.
In a rush of proving himself, Tommy wanted to show he too could participate. He raised his hand to answer a question.
But the teacher chose to call on anyone but him. "Let's give someone else a chance," he said, his tone dismissive.
Tommy's hand dropped back to his desk, his cheeks burning with a mix of anger and humiliation.
By the time the break period arrived, Tommy felt exhausted with everything. He stepped out of the classroom, the whispers and sneers following him like a dark cloud.
"He's probably here 'cause they needed to fill a quota."
"Why'd they let his kind in here anyway?"
"He's from Kentucky? Figures."
"I bet he won't last a week here."
"Did you hear him try to talk? What a joke."
"He doesn't even dress like us."
"I heard he lives in some rundown place downtown."
These comments, muttered under breaths and exchanged in glances cut deeper than any direct confrontation for Tommy, leaving him feeling isolated and unwelcome.
"I heard he's on scholarship. Figures."
"Scholarship? They're letting in anyone these days."
"He's not just black, he's on scholarship too? That's generous of the school."
"Yeah, they're really trying to diversify, huh?"
"I bet he's here to fill a quota."
"Probably got in with lower grades than the rest of us."
Finding a quiet corner in the schoolyard, he sat down and pulled out his lunch, trying to gather his thoughts.
"Just keep on movin'," he muttered to himself, taking a deep breath. "Prove 'em all wrong."
As he sat there, he saw Benjamin across the yard, surrounded by friends but casting a glance in his direction. Their eyes met briefly before Tommy looked away, remembering his mother's warning.
He then looked up again. This time he locked eyes with Benjamin across the yard.
Despite Benjamin being surrounded by friends, Tommy felt like they were the only two people there.
Benjamin looked at him sternly, and Tommy couldn't look away. Suddenly, Benjamin spat on the ground in front of him, showing how much he disliked Tommy.
Tommy stood up quickly, losing his appetite. His mom's words now making sense to him as he concluded in his head, "He looks like he's straight out of the devil's spawn."
His momma was never wrong anyway.
Benjamin's actions made it clear he wasn't welcome. Feeling angry and hurt, Tommy turned away and walked back to the school building. He felt like he'd never fit in there, no matter what he did.
As Tommy walked into the school building, a nerdy student wearing glasses nudged him and stretched out a paper.
Tommy was surprised—an interaction with a white student wasn't something he expected, but he didn't voice his thoughts. He took the paper, and the nerdy guy quickly hurried away.
Opening the paper, Tommy read the words: "Meet me in the library in 30 seconds, or you're done for."
Confusion swirled in Tommy's mind. Was this a threat from a bully? He wasn't about to let anyone intimidate him. But then he considered the principal's mention of assigning a student tutor.
Could this be his tutor?
"Maybe," he thought. "But whoever it was, they didn't seem friendly.."
So, Tommy decided….