I once knew this family who had just moved to my town. They were the Austins, and they were half black and half white. I met them because they were in my school play. Well, really only Andy Austin was in the play but he had to take his little sister, Betsy Ann, to all of the practices so she wouldn’t have to go home by herself. I never really knew what the true story was about their family, but what I heard was that they used to live in New York, and the reason they left was because Mr. Austin was cheating on Mrs. Austin with some black lounge singer. I had guessed Mr. Austin had to be the black parent because he was cheating with a black girl. I don’t know too many white men around that would leave their wives for a Negro girl. Apparently, Mr. Austin met this girl in a bar and they had been sleeping with each other for some time. Mrs. Austin found out when she came home from work early to surprise her husband with a cake and some ice-cream to celebrate some special occasion and found the two of them fucking on her sofa. Next thing anyone knew, Mrs. Austin had packed up all her shit, took the kids, and headed south.

I kind of felt sorry for the Austins. If I were them, I would not have moved to Arkansas, seeing as they are Negroes or not even that really. I would’ve moved somewhere west maybe, like California or Oregon where people were more accepting. Still even there I would’ve felt sorry for them because they wouldn’t even be accepted by other blacks because they weren’t one or the other. I also felt sorry for them because of how strange they all looked. Andy seemed about six or seven feet tall and was as skinny as a rail. His skin was the color of caramel, but he had a few splotches of light colored pigments on some places. He had big huge curly brown hair and crooked teeth. His little sister, Betsy Ann, looked like a similar version of Andy, only smaller and more girly. She had the same skin and hair, except her hair was sort of blonde and longer. The worst part about them was how badly they smelled. I tried to avoid them, but one day at play practice made that impossible.

“Hey, Jane,” Kimberly said.

“Hey, Kimberly,” I said.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” she asked.

“I’m going to go ride horses at my brother’s house,” I said.

“Can I come, too?” she asked. I said of course, and I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Andy Austin.

“Go away, Nigger!” yelled Kimberly-- unnecessarily, I think. Andy got a really sad look on his face and I thought he was going to start crying hard so I said, “No, it’s okay, Andy, what did you want?”

All of the rest of my story would not even be a story if I hadn’t gone and asked him that. His reply to me was, “Well, Jane, me and Betsy Ann need a ride home. Do you have a car?” I did and I knew that if I lied he’d just find out I was lying so I said sure I’d take them home and I waved good-bye to Kimberly and left with Andy and Betsy Ann Austin at my heels.

When we got in the car, the smell was so bad I had to roll down the windows. I told them that my air conditioning was broken in my car and that is why I rolled the windows down. I figured that was a lie they probably wouldn’t find out about. When I pulled into the Austins’ driveway, I was shocked. They lived right smack dab in the middle of the trailer park and their trailer was the ugliest thing I’d ever seen. I dropped them off and as I was pulling away I saw their mama run out the front door and start screaming at them. She slapped little Betsy Ann on the face and pointed her long bony finger in her face. I turned around because I didn’t want to see any more and sped off.

I found out later she yelled at them because they weren’t allowed to ride home with anyone their mama hadn’t met before. I felt really bad for them so for some reason I agreed to meet their mama and start driving them home twice a week after play practice. This made Andy consider me his friend. I didn’t really mind that as long as I didn’t have to be his friend in public.

The play was finally over and in a way I was really glad that I’d never have to talk to Andy again. I didn’t even see Andy or his little sister for about a month, until the day he approached me in the hall to give me a small card. It was a birthday party invitation. He gave an invitation to all of the people in the play, including Kimberly. I thought about that invitation a lot and all I knew was that I didn’t want to go at all. His mama had planned an elaborate cookout, with hot dogs and potato chips and picnic tables. All I could think about was sitting in a yard that faced his ugly trailer and all the other trailers and having to smell him and Betsy Ann.

“You know, it’s okay if you don’t go to Andy Austin’s party,” said Kimberly. “All the girls in choir are planning to go to it so there will be some people there.”
I didn’t really think it was true, but it was an excuse. So I didn’t go. Me and Kimberly and some other friends went ice-skating that night and we pretended we’d forgotten all about the party. But in a way, I felt a little guilty, like it was my duty or something to go to that party.

The following Monday I just happened to run into Andy. My mom says that’s God punishing you for doing something mean. So I said brightly, “Hey Andy! How was your birthday party?” I felt good about myself for talking to him in public.

Andy looked down at the ground. He shuffled his feet a little bit and said softly, “Nobody came.”

I didn’t know what to do. I said quickly, “I was planning on coming, but I totally forgot!” but he knew I was lying. So I said, “I heard all the choir girls were going to go!” He just shook his head. He gave me a really sad look and shrugged. He said he had to get to class and he walked off.

I felt like shit. I really did. In fact, as soon as he was far enough away not to hear me or see me, I turned around, sat on a bench and cried my eyes out until lunch was over.