Veronica Talks to Boys

By Catherine M. Greenspan

Book 2 in The Veronica Series. When Veronica tells her boyfriend she’s black, he laughs, pinches her cheek and says, “But, you’re so white.” Is she too sensitive, like he says?

Another boy starts paying attention to her. He's mixed, too. Should she drop the boy who might have a problem with her for the other guy

• Language: English
• Publisher: Two Sisters Writing and Publishing LLC
• Release date: Oct 19, 2017
• ISBN: 9781945875045

Catherine M. Greenspan

Catherine Marie Atkins Greenspan is currently publishing a series of young adult novels. She has an M.A. in Writing from the University of San Francisco, she has taught university-level English, Creative Writing and English as a Second Language. Catherine and her sister, Elizabeth Ann Atkins, co-created Two Sisters Writing and Publishing to publish their own books, and to support other writers by holding short story contests and ultimately publishing an anthology of new writers. They ghostwrite under their name Atkins & Greenspan Writing.   Catherine earned a Bachelor of Arts degree in English Literature from the University of Michigan. She and Elizabeth had a lot of upper-level English classes, together, including "Living Writers," with Professor Nicholas Delbanco. The highlight wasn't just interacting with Jamaica Kinkaid or Tim O'Brien. The fun was that often Elizabeth was so consumed by her job as an editor at The Michigan Daily that she didn't read the books. Catherine, having read the books, would brief Elizabeth on the plot, theme, and characters. Elizabeth took this information, and then asked some of the most direct, probing questions of the whole class!  Catherine earned some writing grants when she lived in Nevada: from the Sierra Arts Foundation and the Nevada Arts Council. She's done extensive freelance writing and editing, including a recurring column in the Reno News & Review called Committed to Community, where she highlighted the work of local nonprofits. Her favorite, though, was doing restaurant reviews. She wrote regular book reviews, features articles and cover stories, including an interview with Nigerian playwright and poet, Wole Soyinka, winner of the 1986 Nobel Prize in Literature. The highlight of that interview was when he said in response to a probing question something to the effect of, "Nobody's ever asked me that before!"   Catherine spent ten years working in the brokerage industry as a registered representative at both Fortune 100 companies as well as small, independent, family-owned businesses.  Catherine serves as the state secretary and newsletter editor for AAUW-New Mexico, which advances equity for women and girls through advocacy, education, philanthropy, and research. She also serves on the board of AAUW Tech Trek New Mexico, a nonprofit affiliate of AAUW-NM that holds annual camps at New Mexico Tech in Socorro, New Mexico, for rising eighth grade girls from all over New Mexico that promotes STEM learning.   Catherine is a lifetime member of Weight Watchers and former meeting room leader where she inspired others to reach and maintain their target weight range through her firm belief in healthy living through moderation. Catherine has been writing books since she was five. A Michigan native, she has lived in California, Nevada, Oregon, Idaho and Tennessee. She lives in New Mexico.

Book preview

WANDERING THE AISLES at the drugstore with Daddy while he waited for a prescription refill at the pharmacy, I discovered a whole section of shampoos and conditioners that focused on hard-to-control hair. A white box with bright blue letters grabbed my attention: No More Frizzies.

It was a leave-in conditioner guaranteed to make hair silky and manageable. Daddy bought it for me but said I didn’t need it, because my hair was naturally beautiful. I knew he was only saying that because fathers are supposed to. I knew my hair was a wild, frizzy mess of undefined curls. I had springy, coarse strands and straight, fine strands all mixed together.

There was no harmony to my hair.

Driving home, I tried to envision myself with no more frizzies, but I couldn’t, even though my hair had only recently changed.

I wasn’t sure exactly what I looked like, because I always got disgruntled when I looked at my reflection, my halo of wild hair all over the place and all. What would I look like with my hair in complete control? I tried to imagine Katie’s or Susan’s straight hair on my head, but couldn’t. I wondered what Kevin thought of my hair.

That night after I washed it, I squeezed about half a cup of the slimy white cream into my palms and massaged it into my hair, from the roots down to the ends. I rinsed my hands, dried myself off, and went to bed. I prayed for a miracle.

The next morning my hair was nearly dry when I got up. It felt slick, waxy like a horse’s tail, and heavy. I knew immediately that my new conditioner had worked. My hair wasn’t separating into big uncontrollable fly-away sections. No More Frizzies had worked. It was a miracle!

I hadn’t worn my hair down in a long time, because it made me too self-conscious. At school, when I saw Kevin, the first thing he said was, Your hair looks silky, and even Jude, who sat behind me in English, said it looked pretty.

For gym class in the afternoon, I braided it. Then after gym, after changing back into my school clothes, I stood before the big mirror in the locker room and unbraided it. I felt so confident standing there looking at myself that I pulled out my lip gloss and applied it. The area in front of the mirror got crowded. Straight-haired girls de-tangled their hair with a brush in one hand and a cordless curling iron or flat iron in the other.

I left the locker room and headed down the hall, smacking my lips together to taste the glossy sweet stuff coating them, wondering if self-confidence made those girls think they were pretty enough to gaze at themselves in the middle of a crowd of people. I only liked looking at myself when I knew no one was around in case I found something wrong in my reflection.

I passed a pretty girl leaning against her locker with boys on both sides of her. She laughed and tossed her bangs off her forehead with her hand. Maybe I could get bangs. By the time I reached my locker, I had decided against bangs because they’d look stupid on me if I ever ran out of No More Frizzies. I hoped it would be manufactured forever.

Walking to last hour, I saw my reflection in the glass of the counselors’ offices. My hair lay long and wavy down my back. It was only about two inches thick, not puffed up to six inches like usual. It wasn’t forming a 45-degree angle off the top of my head. I had an urge to go into a bathroom and look in a mirror to confirm what I saw. I decided I’d check it out in private after school once I got home.

Kevin appeared from behind me and slipped his hand into mine. I had been nervous because the day before when I told him my mother’s black, he started acting funny.

I started jabbering about something that happened at lunch. Made me feel less nervous when I talked.

At his locker, I got a chance to look at him while he talked and rummaged around for books. He was adorable with his bright eyes and long, thick black eyelashes. I couldn’t believe I was holding his hand—that he was holding my hand. I couldn’t believe I had a boyfriend.

Now it was Kevin who was jabbering. He was telling me about trying out for the soccer team next year, but all I could think was how glad I was that nothing had changed between us. I’d been so sad when I walked home from the park alone after I told him I was black.

I only half-listened to him talk about sports, so I nearly missed it when he said, Why don’t you come to my house for dinner Saturday night?

What?

Do you think your parents would let you come to my house for dinner?

I’ll ask.

The bell rang and we had to part. All through my last hour, my heart felt ready to burst again. Finally, this meant Kevin was willing to stand up to his father; he would prove to his father that black people aren’t inferior. I couldn’t wait to share Kevin with Cap, Vicki, and Daddy.

When I walked in the house after school, the phone was ringing. It was Kevin.

I’m sorry I asked so soon, Veronica. My mom said this Saturday’s not good. She said she’d know by the end of the week if the next Saturday would be better. Do you mind waiting?

I felt as if I’d been punched in the gut. My heart ached, I wanted to believe him so badly, but he was so good at being smooth.

Sure, Kevin, I told him. I’ll wait.

I decided not to tell Cap, Daddy, and Vicki until dinner at Kevin’s was for sure. It was okay that they didn’t know about Kevin. I loved the attention he gave me at school, but I didn’t trust him completely. I didn’t understand why we rarely talked on the phone. I never called him, and he never complained or commented about it.

After four straight weeks of inviting me to dinner then promptly cancelling, I cancelled before he had a chance. He looked shocked when I told him that I was going to my aunt and uncle’s house and that James was their son.

James’ band played at the dance, the dance where Kevin unleashed all his bizarre statements about black people that his father had said. James’ mother and my mother were sisters.

You never told me that guy was your cousin, Kevin said as we stood at his locker.

Of course I did, I said. But I wasn’t sure I’d told him.

You’re ashamed of them, aren’t you? he said.

The thought of being ashamed of them sickened me. How could you ever think that? You’re the one who won’t even introduce me to your family.

I always cancel with good reason. My parents are busy. What’s the point of you coming to my house if my parents aren’t home? Besides, you never invite me to your house, either.

That’s not true! Every time we’re at Pub, I say let’s stop by my house and you always say no.

That’s different. You don’t want to introduce me formally to your parents. Don’t you think I’m good enough?

Formally? I said.