Diary of Latoya Hunter by Latoya Hunter Read Free Book Online Page A

can even invite boys over to the house and she’s younger than me. Her mother is so chill. They wear the same clothes, they go out a lot together, and they talk about anything together. I think Jamaican mothers are more strict about things like boys. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s a universal thing. I don’t know. Teniesha is so lucky! She’s always so happy, she never seems to have any problems with her family. I really envy her.

January 9, 1991
    Dear Janice
,
    T oday gunshots echo in my head. They are the same gunshots that killed an innocent human being right across from my house last night. They are the same gunshots that have scarred me, I think, forever.
    Late last night, I was in bed when I heard a man screaming for a police officer. I told myself, I didn’t hear that. Later I told myself I didn’t hear the four gunshots that followed his cry for help. I lay there in bed and it was like I was frozen. I didn’t want to move an inch. I then heard hysterical crying. I ran to the window when I couldn’t keep myself back any longer. What I saw outside were cops arriving. I ran into my parent’s room and woke them up. By that time, tears were pouring unstoppably from my eyes. I couldn’t stop shaking. My parents looked through the window and got dressed. They rushed outside and I followed them. It turned out that I knew the person who got shot. He worked at the store at the corner. He was always so nice to me, he was always smiling. He didn’t know much English but we still managed a friendship.
    I can’t believe this happened. Things like this happen everyday in N.Y., but not in my neighborhood, not to people I know.

January 11, 1991
    Dear Janice
,
    T oday the store was closed. It was closed yesterday also. The blood stains are still across the street. In school I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened, yesterday was the same thing. I don’t think I’ll get over this for a long while.
    The whole neighborhood is talking about it, some say one thing and others say something else. They say the murderers were waiting for him in his van. He and his partner were going into the van when the murderers came out. That’s all that has been said about it. I don’t think drugs had anything to do with it—the guy was just too sweet. When I listen to them yapping away about it, I don’t mention that I heard a thing when it happened. They’re only interested in the facts of the matter. I’m interested in the heart of it. It really makes me think why did it happen to such a sweet, innocent guy? He didn’t deserve it.

January 12, 1991
    Dear Janice
,
    T he store was opened today. There were a lot of people standing around in there. Not necessarily buying anything, they just stood around. Fernando, a young friendly guy who works in the store who was always very cheerful, was not as cheerful today. His eyes were red and swollen and he just kind of moped around. The funeral is Saturday and they’re asking for donations. I wouldn’t feel right going to his funeral. I think funerals should be for the really close family of the dead. Those whose goodbye would mean the most to him. I have nothing to donate so my parents donated some money. All I have is deep sympathy and sadness for the loss of a friendly person who always put a smile on my face.

January 14, 1991
    Dear Janice
,
    I ’ve been so caught up in the murder shock that I’ve forgotten to update you on school. A really good saxophone player came to school to perform. His name is Naji. The school loved him. He is really talented. I have a feeling he’s going to make it big in the music industry.
    You don’t know this but when I was ten I used to play the drums at P.S. 94. It was really easy; as my music teacher said, you’ve just got to have rhythm. This year however, I’m stuck in vocals as you know.

January 15, 1991
    Dear Janice
,
    S ince the murder I haven’t been particularly interested in going outside. Today I was thinking about everything. My