It was the fourth of July and the fireworks were lighting up the sky; but the noise hurt my ears and I wanted to go home. So when Janet said she was leaving early to avoid the "mob," my mother asked if she would take me with her. We walked right up the middle of the street. There were no cars. The street was blocked off. It felt good walking in the street. It made me feel somehow big and important.

But more than that, walking with Janet was a dream come true. She was the most perfectest girl in the whole world. She was tall and beautiful and really nice. She didn't put lots of junk on her face like lots of girls do. No, Janet was real.

But she was old, she was in high school and I was only in the fifth grade. She could never be my girlfriend. By the time I was her age, she would be an old lady, probably married. She wouldn't wait for me, and I guess she shouldn't really have to. But still going some place with her, even if just home, was great.

As we walked, all the bangs made us turn around. It was the end, and the sky was full of color. It was bright like daytime, and you could see all the people. Janet said we should hurry. She was right, 'cause once the people start leaving it's just like a stampede on T.V. You could get killed. Janet started walking real fast, and I had a hard time keeping up. I kept falling but never really fell, 'cause she had a real good holdda me.

Some guy yelled, "Hey nigga, let the kid go!" He yelled it a couple of times in different ways. "Ya hear me nigga, leave him alone."

Janet took me around the corner in a real hurry. It wasn't the regular way home. I didn't know the street and got scared. We went down a ways and she stopped. She was kinda shakin' all over and her face was wet. It kinda twinkled. She look real pretty with her face twinklin'. But she was not happy. She wasn't smilin' and she's always smilin".

I asked her, "What's nigga?"

She said, "It is a word used to hurt people like me."

I said, "I think it's terrible how everyone picks on us."

She kinda laughed and said, "It's only used to hurt colored people."

I told her not to worry. Said, "You're not nigga. You're Janet, my friend."

She kneeled down and said, "You're beautiful," and gave me a hug and a kiss. It was just like she was my girlfriend. She was still crying. Her face was all wet and shiny, but now she was smilin' too. They're all right, you know, girls; but they're funny people. Laughing and crying at the same time. And besides I knew I was ugly. Everyone said so. Calling me "Dumbo" on accountta my big ears. But still it was nice to have Janet, who was beautiful, say I was.