JOSEPHINE

Josephine

Jeannie always seemed to listen repectfully to Barbara Jean, a tall,
skinny, very dark-skin, Peter Pan-ish type, teenager. Jeannie, a member
of the band of older girls attending the Nursery, a straggling,
unstructured group, including large, protective Josephine, who wore
thick glasses, was a pretty mulatto, a Catholic and refined
spirit.

Jeannie would give Barbara Jean the same respectful attention that she
had given the director of the Nursery, Mr. Warden, five minutes before.
Mr Warden had said, that not under any circumstances, should any of us
kids cross the railroad tracks, on going to or returning from the park.
Barbara Jean would take over the leadership as soon as he had left and
ask, "Hey kids, you want to cross over the railroad tracks?" And a
chorus of "Yea" answered back.... disconcertingly. Barbara Jean,
although she was almost 6 feet tall, was nevertheless only 12 years
old.

One day, Barbara Jean had gathered us down in the basement, where
bright giraffes and other animals of the jungle were painted on the
walls. First, she gave a frightening demonstration of
chain-reaction-type electric shock by standing us in a circle, with our
hands holding, while she touched a broken record player, which shocked
her, first, and then rippled through each of us, in turn, completely
around the circle. She wanted us to do it again but I refused to join
in the second time. After that, she sat us along the wall. "I'm going
to say something I never told you before. You know who is really,
really strong? Josephine is." It was deadly silent. A pin could have
dropped. "How could you tell that?" I heard myself asking. I had
absolutely no concept of strength and had never seen Josephine in a
fight nor had I ever seen Josephine lift anything, I just knew that
Josephine always took two helpings of food, even of dishes I couldn't
stand.

Barbara Jean didn't appreciate my scientific inquiry. Her lips were
twisted savagely. Suddenly I was pulled from my seat and flung to the
floor, where Josephine was standing. "Show her how strong you are,
Josephine!"

Suddenly Josephine was filled with a rage that was unrecognizable. She
took hold of me and swung me round with fiercest power and twirled me
up into her whirling cyclone. A sheer explosion. I felt like a helpless
victim, suddenly caught in a stampede of universal hate. I felt as if I
was riding a spinning bronco, my dangling arm flopping helplessly. I
felt she was killing me. Stopping to get her breath, my lifeless hand,
still moving in momentum, flicked her nose, uncontrollably, making her
nose bleed. Josephine started crying, cupping her hands over her face.
A chorus of sympathetic girls gathered around her, comforting her,
while I staggered dizzily and blindly up the stairs, thankful to be
alive, like a bird released from the jaws of a lion.

Pausing at the water fountain, where I noticed my collar was torn,
Jeannie came up behind me. "Oh," she said, "Oh...I hate you!" I truly
wanted to die.

In a dark corner of the building, I waited for my mother to come
collect me.