Inside Out by Grayson Cole Read Free Book Online Page A

it?”
    Indignant was a good word for his tone. Drunk and belligerent did a better job. “Look, I don’t even know you. You just show up here from time to time and that’s it. I don’t owe you anything. I don’t know why you think—”
    He snatched the cushion from her. “Because I never,” he said through his teeth, “never would have done that to you, Tracey.”
    She stood to face him. “Really, Garrett? You’ve done it to me plenty of times before now. There was nothing different about my behavior today. The only difference was you.” She poked her finger into his chest and went on. “You smile at me, I smile at you. That’s the way it goes when we’re in class.”
    He didn’t say anything, but grabbed her hand, holding it still so she couldn’t poke him anymore.
    â€œWhat else do you want? You don’t feel comfortable, and I don’t feel comfortable. What do you want?” Her voice did not shake. She was lucky at times.
    â€œI want to be friends.” That just made it worse. And even though Garrett and Tracey had known each other only a few weeks, they had become friends the first night he’d come there, good ones. Even worse was that they both knew there was no safe friendship between the two of them. She felt helpless and tugged her hand out of his. He continued, “Listen, I don’t even know why this is such a big deal. People meet each other and hang out and become friends and say ‘Hey’ when they pass each other in the halls. All kinds of people. But you and me, we can’t.”
    â€œI know,” Tracey breathed, taking her cushion back from him before slumping back down into her seat.
    He sat down near her again. Neither of them asked why. Tracey didn’t ask ’cause she sure didn’t want an answer. They were silent. She didn’t know where all that had come from. Her only defense was that she’d had too much to drink. All she knew was that somewhere under her ribs she felt a pain grow. He pulled the pillow from her arms again, gently this time, and watched her. God, he was always watching her, always paying such close attention. She felt that, somehow, he was trying to learn her.
    The worst of it, the very worst of it, was they weren’t exactly forging new territory. There were plenty of black and white people that hung out, that were good friends. There were even a couple in the law school. But there was that something that was dangerous for the both of them.
    For Tracey it had started almost from birth. From the time she learned to talk to the time she left high school, she had people calling her an Oreo, a “wannabe,” everything a person could think of to say she wasn’t a “real” black person. Why? Because she spoke “proper,” she was smart, she had white friends, and her parents were wealthy but from self-made wealth. Half the things she was socially obligated to identify with, she didn’t, because that just wasn’t where she came from.
    Proud to be black? She was, but she also felt an unnatural pressure to shout it to doubters every day. As she overcompensated, she felt uncomfortable in her own skin. In truth, she never felt that she belonged to anybody or to anything other than her family. But now, even though she didn’t belong, she had this tenuous grip on what was shaping up to be a new life for her. She had people to hang out with. She said the right things in the right way. She only gave when she got, as with her new friendship with Monica.
    She couldn’t figure out this thing with Garrett, though. She could only assume it was because he was all-American, the boy next door. He was probably engaged at birth to a girl named Susie and had a mock wedding ceremony when he was six and she was five. He was probably in his father’s fraternity. He was classic and white without an ounce of “soul.” Maybe their