My heart was beating fast and loud, and I was breathing so hard that I thought I was going to pass out. Up Davis Street and around the corner I sprinted, not letting myself stop to catch my breath. Two more left turns, one more right, and past six houses, I thought to myself, and I will be home, hopefully before supper. I had memorized the way back from Charlie's house months ago, down to every step. It had become habit, a habit that would shock and anger my parents if they ever found out. They hated Charlie and his brother Jimmie and their parents Ruth and Louis, and any other relative Charlie might have, because they were black.

“Katie, you’re late again”, my mother sighed with exasperation when I fell through the front door. She was wearing her baby blue apron I had gotten her for Christmas and her golden hair, streaked with silver, was up tied up with a white bandana. Her cheeks were rosy- she had been cooking over the stove. She set down a plate of potatoes and a slice of shepherd's pie in front of my father. He looked up at me from his newspaper and asked,

“Why were you late?”

“I had lost track of the time, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, Pa” I replied.

“Where were you?”

“I told you this morning where I was going Pa, I was with Becky doing homework.”

“Does that girl not have a clock at her house? Does her father not make enough money     to even buy a clock, for god sake?” he muttered.

I dismissed his comment and strode into the kitchen to wash my hands before sitting down at the table.
My father was a tall, brown haired guy with blue eyes. He had round glasses and always wore a tie.
“Did you see todays paper Nance?” he asked my mother.

She shook her head.

“Last night some black guy tried to go into one of our pubs down on Ridge Street, and when the barman told him to leave, he put up this big fight”, he explained, rolling his eyes.
“What happened to him?” I asked apprehensively.

“The barman and a couple other guys beat him up. Serves him right, I think. Who does he think he is coming into one of our bars? I wonder what that Martin Luther King guy has to say about this. Probably another load of crap about us all living together as brothers and sisters. Someone oughta put his ass in jail, that's where all those black folks belong.”

My mother nodded in agreement.

How could my own parents speak in such an awful way? I felt sick to my stomach. These types of news weren’t new or very surprising to me, but they made me nauseated when I heard them. All I could think about was Charlie. What if something like this were to happen to him? My handsome, smart, funny, Charlie. Even the thought of him getting in trouble with all these white racists made me start to cry. I asked to be excused from the table, and ran up the stairs and into my room. It had been a long day, and I was asleep as soon as I fell into bed.

I woke up from the telephone ringing downstairs and the shrill voice of my mother answering it. It was one of our neighbors. In a couple of minutes, my father yells for me to come down, his voice booming. I quickly ran down to see what had happened and I had never seen my parents this upset before. My mother could barely stand, she had to lean on the wall to stop from falling, and had tears running down her face. My father was red faced and pacing - that's what he does when he's furious.

“.....what happened?” I asked.

My father said,

“Your mother got a very interesting phone call just now from Susan. Apparently, she had seen you leave the Lowes house today.”

I started sweating and my thought were in a whirlwind. I was so careful, how did that old crow manage to see me leave Charlies? What will happen to us? What will happen to him? I needed to come up with an alibi quickly.

“I was asking their son about an algebra problem. He helps me sometimes with math”, I lied.

“That isn’t all Katherine. She also saw you kiss him the other day behind the post office. Was that also a homework problem he was helping you with?” he asked angrily, “do you realize what an embarrassment this is to our family? This is going to get around the town, that my daughter is fooling around with a black boy. Look what you have done to your mother, she’s practically having a heart attack!”

“I didn’t do anything wrong Pa, I love him, he's not any different than you or me. Maybe a little nicer though.”
I heard my mother sob. My father's eyes narrowed, his face got even redder, and his voice real quiet.
“You are grounded. You are never allowed to see that boy ever again, I mean it! And if you do, he is going to get in trouble too, believe me.”

Weeks had passed since I had seen Charlie, and I missed him terribly. I saw him every once in a around town, but we couldn’t look at eachother in front of everyone, let alone talk. I couldn’t stand not seeing him any longer, so one night, I decided to sneak out, through my window. After jumping down onto the front lawn, I ran as fast as I could to his house. Past six houses, one left turn, and  two more right, I repeated in my head until I got there.

As soon as I threw a stone at his window, he opened it and let me in. I hadn’t seen him in so long, forgot just how handsome and wonderful he was. The night went by fast, and again, I had lost track of time. Again, the same girl was sprinting down the streets, in the same dress from the same house, to the same problems awaiting me at home. Two more left turns, one more right, and past six houses.

I figured out I was pregnant over two months after the night I snuck out. I was terrified. Not of raising the baby - I’d have Charlie to help me. I was scared of telling my parents. What would they say? It was a saturday afternoon when I decided to approach my mother about it.

“Hi Ma..” I said sheepishly

“What Katie? I’m busy”, she responded as usual.

“I need to tell you something.”

“Well…?”

“Um.. I don’t really know how to tell you this in a better way.. Um..”

“Spit it out Katie, I don’t have all day.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“What did you just say”, she hollered

“I’m pregnant… with Charlie's baby”, I answered.

“Get out.”

“What?”

“I SAID, GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE KATHERINE!”

“Ma, please! You cannot do that to me. I am your daughter, I’m sorry!”

“You’re not my daughter anymore,” she whispered.

And with that, she left the kitchen and stormed up the stairs. I quickly packed a couple of things and left my house. Past six houses, one left turn, and two more right, I whispered as I walked to the only home I knew would accept me. To the home where my baby would be raised and cared for and not hated for the color of its skin.

It was a hot summer day when I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. We named her Daisy, because those were the flowers in bloom at the time. As I held my daughter in my arms for the first time, I couldn’t help but cry a little. I wished my parents had been there to hold her too. I had tried to call them but they did not pick up the telephone. Charlie had suggested that I go to their house with the baby and show her to them and I agreed.
When I knocked on the door, my mother answered. She had been crying, I could tell. With a weak smile I said,
“Hi Ma..”

As soon as she saw Daisy, she began to cry again.

“Is this your child?” she asked, choked up and trying to hide her sobs.

“Yes Ma, this is Daisy.”

“Can I hold her?”

“Of course Ma, she's your granddaughter” I replied, handing her the baby.

As soon as my mother picked up my child I could see the love she had for it in her eyes. Her eyes teared up again.

“Daisy is a silly name Katherine”, she said sharply.

At this point, Daisy had also begun to cry, and I reached to take her from my mother, but she turned away and said,

“I know how to take care of a child. I’ll handle it, you go rest.”

I could already see that the love bore for me (and eventually my own child), was an emotion stronger and far deeper than the hatred they had been taught.