Because I'm Brown

By Shannon Kennedy

Her problems overwhelm fifteen-year-old Rita Fernandez. They only happen because she’s brown! Her father won’t allow her to date until her grades improve. What’s worse is that he refuses to buy her the horse of her dreams until then, too!
In addition, her failing grades jeopardize her status as a Stewart Falls cheerleader. Rita knows she isn’t really dumb, even if it took forever for her to learn to read.

Nobody listens to what she wants. A school counselor told her there’s no way she can ever be a veterinarian, a dream she’s had since childhood. The guy Rita adores still sees her as a troublesome younger sister. He even tells other boys that she’s too young to date since she hasn’t had her quinceañera, a coming-of-age celebration yet and drives them away.

To top it all off, her mother hates Rita for blemishing her new, perfectly blonde family. Even as friends rally around to help her, she sinks into depression when her mother wants to sabotage her quinceañera, the party Rita should have had a year ago when she turned fifteen. How will she ever manage to show people what she can do when they judge her because she’s brown?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melange Books, LLC
• Release date: Dec 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9798886530957

Shannon Kennedy

Shannon lives and works at her family business, Horse Country Farm, just outside of Granite Falls in Washington State. Teaching kids to ride and know about horses since 1967, she finds in many cases, she's taught three generations of families. Her life experiences span adventures from dealing cards in a casino, attending graduate school to get her Masters in Teaching degree, being a substitute teacher, and serving in the Army Reserve—all leading to her second career as a published author.

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ONE

Saturday, November 3 rd, 2018

"M argarita, qué pasa ? What are you doing? I told you to put the history books on the shelves next to the door. The Spanish ones go here."

Come on, Dad, I said, standing by the long row of shelves below the windows of his classroom. It’s no big deal. Mellow out.

That got me one of his stern looks. Dad folded his arms and waited for me to explain. I was just as stubborn as he was, so I mirrored his stance. It’d totally piss him off but wasting my day at the academy when I wanted to be with my friends on Varsity Cheer was a no-brainer.

In my new campaign-style khaki pants and three-inch, spiked heel boots, I was six-foot-two, the same height he was, so we were eye to eye. I kept my black hair long and let it grow almost to my waist. He hit the barbershop on a regular basis, going for the short and sharp look since he hated curls, claiming they weren’t for guys. We both had dark-brown, almost-black eyes. He had on a T-shirt and blue jeans, but he didn’t have to worry about impressing anybody and I did, so I opted for a lacy black blouse tucked into my pants. I’d add a bright red corset later when he wasn’t around to give me evil looks or one of his long lectures about being a good Hispanic girl.

Dad was a teacher at my private high school, Stewart Falls Academy. Under protest, I was helping him decorate his classroom for Día de los Muertos, the Day of the Dead, the Mexican version of Halloween. He got the fun jobs, preparing the elaborate altar with its traditional flowers and pictures, hanging sugar skulls around the room and a donkey piñata from the ceiling. I got the girl jobs of filling the rest of the papier-mâché critters with candy, doing the actual cleaning, setting up the bulletin boards, scrubbing the desks, and on and on and on.

Frankly, I preferred the visit to Seattle when we celebrated the holiday with my aunts, uncles, and cousins on the past two days. Dad had arranged for a substitute teacher and because it was a cultural absence, I didn’t have to make up any school assignments. Hurray!

I’d helped my aunts set up the ofrendas, the special altars in their homes to honor our relatives who’d passed away. After I painted my cousins’ faces, we enjoyed dancing in the parade from the church to the cemetery. That was followed by hours of talking, decorating the graves of family members, eating festive foods.

Dad said other students should learn more than foreign languages. In our classes next week, he’d spend hours lecturing about Hispanic culture. He’d convinced the Home Ec teacher that we should cook traditional foods for our trip to the town cemetery and the headmaster thought it’d be good community service if we cleaned up the place. Dad had told everyone to bring pictures of their family members who’d passed away to put on the altar. These people so needed to get a life and quit wrecking mine.

You’re too smart to behave like this, Dad finally said, when the staring contest didn’t work. Why didn’t you listen to me and do what I wanted? What’s your problem?

I shrugged and tried to act like the mistake was a joke, the way I did with real teachers. I thought it’d look better if the books were arranged by color. Ariel told me everybody coordinates their outfits these days. School would be a lot better if it wasn’t so boring.

That did it! Dad exploded into one of the fierce lectures about appropriate behavior for good girls, complete with the macho glare he’d practiced on me for years. I knew I was supposed to take him seriously. But after years and years of hearing him go on and on whenever I messed up, it was easier to tune him out. Besides, I was American, and I had rights, something he tended to forget when he was ranting and raving. Sometimes, I wondered if that was why he and Mom divorced. Did she forget how to laugh when they were married? Or was she born without a sense of humor?

Dad kept complaining about me, but at least he did it in Spanish. I understood him. He’d talked to me in what he considered his language since I was a baby. Because I spoke Spanish as well as I did English, most teachers didn’t know how dumb I really was. Of course, those same teachers told me I didn’t work up to my capacity. Then, they told my parents I was precocious. Dad said I was brilliant, which was why I could outsmart the other teachers, but I couldn’t outsmart him. I had sense enough not to tell him different.

The whole time Dad scolded, he sorted through the books. Now, put these in the bookcase by the door. He gave me an armload. Do it right, Margarita. I want them in chronological order. Start with the Native Americans, then the discoveries made by European explorers, and work up to contemporary culture.

Yuck! Why do you have all these awful books? Nobody else has this big a library in their classrooms for their students. Are you trying to torture us?

Students in the academy earn their grades, Dad said. You’re a sophomore. You know that.

I wrinkled my nose. Oh, come on, Dad. You know the truth about school. We’re here to look at the guys and they’re here to look at us. Classes come second.

Not in my room. Not in this school and you know that too. Dad pointed to the bookcase across the room. Get to work, Margarita.

I already knew I’d mess up his precious books again. That would mean another lecture. I acted tough around my father, but it hurt when he was disappointed in me. Ever since my mother remarried, I came fifth or sixth with her. She had her new husband, Aaron Abrams, and his two kids, Ariel, and Austin. The three of them were even more important than her job as the manager of the local bank. I never was.

Dad, can’t I have time off for good behavior? I asked. I’ve been working here all day. And Sarah Flynn’s party is tonight. I’m supposed to help the rest of the cheerleaders decorate her aunt’s house and it’ll take forever to walk there. It’s clear on the other side of Stewart Falls.

Tell you what, Dad said. Put those books over there and I’ll run you to Dr. Tiernan’s.

Really? I stared at him. Are you sure?

He ran a hand through his black hair and studied me with thoughtful, dark eyes. "Mi hija, I couldn’t have done this much without you. And I’d like to see how Sarah is doing, too. I know she’s been released from the hospital, but she hasn’t come back to school yet."

She’s doing great, considering how badly Jason beat her up, but Dr. Conway wants her to rest for a few more days. I carted the books across the room, put them on the table in front of the shelves, then grabbed my backpack by the door. She loves staying with her aunt, and she’s actually going to get what she really wants for her birthday this year. Besides a slumber party with us for the first time in forever. The one when her mom and stepdad were trying to impress the caseworker from C.P.S. doesn’t count.

What is that? Dad asked, stopping to lock his classroom door. What does Sarah want?

A puppy, I said. One of the heeler-border collies that her grandma raises.

Is that what you want for your birthday? Dad asked, following me down the hall.

"No. I want my quinceañera, I said. I didn’t get to have one for my fifteenth birthday because Mom was so busy with her wedding to Aaron last spring. And I also want my own horse." I probably wasn’t going to get either one, but I figured if Dad admitted I was almost sixteen, I’d be allowed to date. Of course, I really did want Laird, the gray Arabian stallion I’d loved forever. I didn’t know if that was going to happen, either. I’d keep asking. Or, as Dad put it, I’d keep nagging!

"Margarita, you know the deal about the horse. You get a B average at the end of the semester and I’ll buy him. As for the party, your mom said she’ll arrange it under the same conditions. Many Mexican-American girls wait until they turn sixteen before they have their quinceañeras. If you want more rewards, you have to take on more responsibilities."

I tuned him out as we crossed the parking lot to his SUV. It was always the same story with him and Mom. Give them what they claimed to want and then they’d come up with a thousand reasons why they didn’t have to keep their promises. If I got all Bs, then it’d be a case of I should have all As and everything would wait until I did. It so wasn’t happening. No matter how hard I tried, I never pleased them. And to be honest, it wasn’t worth the effort, so I’d stopped busting my butt a long time ago.

Stewart Falls was a string of communities around three separate lakes in the Cascade foothills of Washington State. SF had its share of groceries, gas stations, restaurants, and other stores. The post office, library, bank, and town hall clustered in one strip mall near Lake Charles. Most of the people who lived around Lake Mary had estates with private docks. Gated housing developments with narrow streets surrounded Lake James.

Dr. Cathy Tiernan lived near Lake Mary in an old Victorian style farmhouse on forty acres that originally belonged to her grandparents. The gravel drive curled up toward the house, rolling lawns on the left and white-board fenced paddocks on the right. When we pulled in the driveway, an old bay Quarter Horse mare trotted over to the pasture fence to meet us, followed by her adopted son. I reached into my pack and pulled out a pound of organic carrots for the equine duo.

Dad walked around and opened up the back of his SUV to grab the rest of my stuff.

Six carrots later, we headed up the brick walkway to the house, me with my backpack and Dad with my sleeping bag, duffel, and nacho makings. Even before I rang the doorbell, I heard dogs barking. That must be the fun part of being a veterinarian, bringing your work home with you.

Once upon a time, becoming a vet had been my dream, but I gave it up ages ago. If high school about killed me, there was no way I’d be able to deal with college and all the stuff they threw at me, much less graduate as a large animal vet.

More yapping and deeper barks, then the door opened into a foyer. BJ Larson, a petite redhead, stood there, her half-grown, blue merle heeler mix, Guard Dog sitting next to her. He opened his mouth in a collie grin, showing his teeth. His tail swept the floor in big wags. BJ rested one hand on his head. Hey, it’s about time you got here, Rita. We need somebody tall to hang streamers and Abbie’s still at the espresso stand.

I’m glad to help. I glanced behind her. So, where’s Sarah?

Napping on the couch in the Great Room. It’s on the other side of Dr. Cathy’s study. You’ve got to see this place. She has more rooms here than my folks do in their house, which I thought was ginormous. BJ pointed toward the door on the left-hand wall behind her. It’s through there, but we’re trying not to wake up Sarah. She took the bag of groceries from my dad. I’ll put these in the kitchen. The other stuff goes in the dining room. We’re sleeping downstairs. Wait ‘til you see the room that Dr. Cathy put together for Sarah. She’s got everything, a new computer, a TV, and even a mini-fridge.

Sounds amazing, I said. Maybe we could all move in.

Beside me, Dad laughed. I don’t think so. Since Sarah’s asleep, I’ll see you later, Margarita. Call me tomorrow when you’re ready to come home.

I glanced up at him, puzzled. But I’m supposed to go to Mom’s. I’m there Sunday night through breakfast on Tuesday and then back at your place for the rest of the week.

Dad shook his head. No. Your mom called this morning while you were in the shower. She and Aaron took Austin and Ariel to Victoria, BC. They’ll be back Monday morning so you can go there after school.

I nodded and bit my lip, determined not to dissolve into tears in front of BJ. I knew how my mother honestly felt about me, so why did these rejections always hurt so much?

Dad stopped and gave me a long look. She said she’d mentioned it to you last week.

No, but that’s okay. I shrugged as if it was no big deal and hoped I didn’t sound as disappointed as I felt. My mother had gone off to Canada with her new family and hadn’t even bothered to invite me. I have things to do here.

All right. Dad hugged me and then he was gone, leaving my stuff inside the door.

BJ and her dog stood and eyeballed me. You really okay with this crap-fest?

Hey, I’m used to it, I told her. She’s been ashamed of me for years because I’m a living reminder of the fact that she married my dad. I’m as brown as he is and now, I really spoil the look of her perfect blond Anglo family.

TWO

Even if Sarah’s actual birthday fell on Halloween, she didn’t care for orange and black, so we’d hung pink and purple crepe streamers across the vaulted ceiling of the Great Room. We draped swags of matching cloth from the walls. Our fashion diva, Kaitlyn Harris, and BJ twined strings of holiday lights around the windows. Timber Watkins brought in chunks of apple firewood. He had taken charge of building the fire in the fireplace. Abbie Watkins, his cousin and one of our cheer captains, had suggested we have a royalty themed party, and everybody dress up for it.

This would help Sarah to not feel stupid for being unable to dance or having to have her friends wait on her. We decorated one of the huge recliners so she could sit in it like it was her throne and Kaitlyn had borrowed a jeweled crown from the drama teacher at school.

Marcie Oakley, our other cheer captain, added fake fur to the collar, sleeves and hem of a new, brilliant-purple bathrobe.

Sarah had laughed her butt off when she saw it, but she happily put it on over her sweatpants and T-shirt. Then she demanded a scepter. Luckily, Abbie found one at the party supply store.

Between music, tables filled with different kinds of food catered by Parthenon Pizza, and a bunch of silly party games where Sarah awarded prizes to the winners, everyone had a blast. The guys had a midnight curfew and once they were gone, the varsity cheerleaders would have a sleepover. Not that we’d do much sleeping—we never did. We hadn’t invited everyone Sarah knew, just those of us on the squad and a few other good friends.

It was my turn to take the puppies out to the backyard. BJ’s and Willa’s dogs were in the laundry room off the kitchen. Sarah passed over the tri-colored heeler-collie bundle of joy cuddled on her lap and I toted him through the door to the breakfast nook. Dr. Cathy looked up from the book she was reading. Everything okay?

Yeah, I said, I’m on potty patrol.

She got up and headed over to the sliding glass doors. You folks ready for ice-cream and cake yet?

Probably in about a half-hour, I said. Then we can do presents before the guys leave.

Sounds good. She flipped the switch for the yard lights. Watch out for puppy land mines. I haven’t made Warren pick them up lately. We’ve been so busy at the hospital and trying to get Sarah’s mom into rehab.

I hoped my face didn’t give anything away. I knew all about Sarah’s mom and her drinking. Who didn’t? However, she was also really into denial, so it hadn’t come as much of a surprise to me when she claimed that Sarah made up the whole thing about her ex-boyfriend, Jason Phillips knocking her around and damn near killing her at the Homecoming Dance.

Sarah’s mom even tried to say that it was her husband, Sarah’s stepdad, who did the damage. Come on. Get serious, I thought. The guy was a jerk, but he hadn’t tripped her on the activity bus or been anywhere around when Jason knocked Sarah down a flight of stairs after one of our cheer practices. He was super sneaky so while none of us actually saw him do it, we didn’t doubt what Sarah told us.

Guard and his sister Lassie, a gold and white collie mix, trotted after me into the fenced yard. I put down the itty-bitty puppy that Sarah hadn’t named yet and he waddled after his older sibs. At seven weeks, some people might’ve thought he wasn’t quite old enough to be away from his mom, but he did have Dr. Cathy and Sarah to take good care of him, so he’d be fine.

Guard let off with a series of sharp barks and Lassie charged toward a guy walking toward me from the house. Dave Jefferson?

My heart leapt at the idea, then my excitement subsided when I recognized Luis Gomez. He was all right, but he wasn’t the guy I really wanted. Luis sauntered toward me, big and beefy in his black sports coat and blue jeans, cinnamon-brown hair tied back in a ponytail, so I could see his handsome face.

He ignored the half-grown pups when they swarmed around him. Nothing new. He wasn’t mean to four-legged critters—he just didn’t like them.

The littlest member of the canine menagerie huddled close to my boots. I bent and picked him up, grateful he’d already done his business. "Qué tal?" I asked.

"Nada, Luis told me. You disappeared, so I came to find you."

I’m fine, I said. Sarah can’t walk her puppy yet so we’re taking turns.

Then why didn’t she wait to get him?

I shrugged. Probably because she was scared that her aunt and grandmother would change their minds and she’d never have a dog.

Okay. It was his turn to shrug. He put his hands on my shoulders and leaned in to kiss me.

I could have backed away, but I glimpsed Dave Jefferson on the back deck. So I didn’t move. I let Luis do his thing. He was a very good kisser, just what I expected from a player like him. Soft, sweet and he didn’t do a thing for me, so I didn’t bother kissing him back. He lifted his head. Nothing, huh?

Sorry, I said. It was nice. Does that count?

No. He laughed, a bass rumble. He pointed to the sky. The stars—

Yeah, right. I could barely see them through the clouds rolling overhead. I was just glad that the rain stopped before I brought out the puppies. Where are they?

Okay. The moon—

Not there, I said. You’re striking out, Romeo.

What about the romantic music from the party?

I listened. Through the open doors, I could barely hear the country stuff Sarah preferred, much less some gal going off about true love. Give me a break! Sorry, still not happening.

You shoot me down every time.

What can I say? I turned and headed for the house with him beside me. You’re a great guy and I really like you. But—

I’m not it. He put an arm around my waist. Okay if I keep trying?

You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t, I teased. Either that or I’d have to call the paramedics because I’d know you needed CPR.

More laughing, as if I was the greatest, smartest girl in the world.

I had to say Luis was good for my ego. He never made me feel as if I could give lessons in stupid the way some of my teachers, or my parents, or even Dave did.

Dave—tall, broad-shouldered, narrow hips—he looked like a real cowboy in the saddle. He could ride any horse at Horse Heaven, the local stable where I took lessons.

We climbed the steps together and Dave came across to meet us. Coal black hair framed his face. He wasn’t a pretty boy, more of the rugged type. Narrowing dark-brown eyes, he glared at Luis. Thought we talked about this.

About what? I asked, shifting the puppy. Did Dave want me? Did he like me, really like me? The way I liked him?

Releasing me, Luis eased away from me. He switched to Spanish. He says you’re a little girl.

I’m fifteen, I protested, using the same language. I can do what I want.

Dave shook his head and somehow he got between me and Luis. "No, you can’t. You haven’t had your quinceañera yet. You can’t be with any guy yet."

He had a point, but he wasn’t my dad. I didn’t have to listen to him.

This is Stewart Falls, I said, not Mexico City. I’m American and a woman does what she pleases here.

A woman does, Dave agreed, not a little girl who hasn’t come of age yet.

What? Before I exploded with the rage bubbling inside me, I eyed Luis and saw the agreement on his face. I stormed away from the two macho guys, wishing I was big enough, buff enough to kick both their arrogant butts.

Three hours later, while we cleaned up after the party, I was still steamed. I hated Dave who treated me as if I was five, not fifteen. I hated Luis who kissed me and was happy to hang with me and my friends but didn’t ask me on a real date. I hated my mother, who wouldn’t give me my party and claimed not to know how important it was, even though she said culture was everything. I hated my dad, who tied the whole thing to my horrible grades and didn’t admit that Mom probably used the money supposedly put aside for my quinceañera for her fancy damned wedding last spring.

Darcy Gallatin, one of the seniors on our squad, came into the kitchen with a bowl of leftover Chicken Alfredo. You look like you lost your best friend. Anything I can do to help? Cheerleaders stick together.

Only if you stomp Dave into the dirt and Luis, too, I said, tearing off a long strip of plastic wrap. And I have a few other names to add to the list, starting with my 17-year-old, perfect stepsister, Ariel.

Sorry, that’s not my job. Darcy grinned at me, golden-brown eyes friendly. You need our enforcer to do that. Tell Jenny she has a new contract and she’ll bring the body parts in a trash-bag to you.

Promises. Promises. I covered the bowl of pasta and put it in the fridge.

With a swing of her honey-streaked-brown hair, Darcy headed back to the Great Room. I told myself I didn’t feel better, but it was a lie. Even if I couldn’t date, I had great friends.

By 3:00 a.m., everyone else had sacked out in their sleeping bags on the floor in the huge family room. Guard was curled up, snoring on top of BJ, and Lassie cuddled with her owner, Willa. Sarah had the couch.

No way could she sleep on the floor with cracked ribs, and we wouldn’t even ask. I watched Abbie roll the dice for the game of Horse-OPoly we were playing.

Sarah nudged my back. What’s up with you and Dave? I told him you thought he was hot, and he’s interested. I know it.

I petted her puppy and didn’t look over my shoulder at her. "He says I can’t go out with anyone because I haven’t had my quinceañera and he keeps sending Luis away."

You don’t want Luis. Abbie moved her token three spaces. The guy is a good linebacker, but as a person—ick.

Yeah, Marcie agreed, lying on the floor between Abbie and me. She propped her chin on her elbows while she waited her turn. I think he’s trying to go out with every girl on the squad and, when I say, go out, I mean put out and you don’t want your name on his list.

I choked and grabbed for my soda, taking a hasty swallow. Wait a second. You mean he’s sleeping with everybody on varsity?

Not me or Marcie because he knows we’re a couple, Abbie said, but I know he and Hailey had a fling once when she was on the outs with Jason. She was scared to death she was pregnant for two weeks because Luis won’t use a condom.

And he left Darcy on the other side of Pine Ridge when she fought him off, Marcie whispered, reaching for a handful of chips from the bag we shared. She called me and Abbie for a ride because she didn’t want her older brother to come get her. Connor is pure poison when he’s drinking, and he would have dropped Luis off the side of a mountain.

You need to go out with nice guys and we have plenty of those at school. Pick one, Abbie told me. "What is the big deal about a quinceañera? Why do you need one?"

It’s a huge party, Sarah said, before I could. Mexican-American girls have them to show they’re old enough to date. And Rita didn’t get hers because her mom flaked out last February.

It’s expensive, I admitted. "It’s like the prom or a glamorous wedding. I have my dress already. My grandma in California and I chose a fancy blue and white ball gown. A quinceañera starts with Mass at the church. We ride in limousines from there to the restaurant where we have dinner to the reception. And I need fourteen couples who are my friends to start the ceremony. Fifteen would be better if I have the party for my next birthday. Each couple represents a year in my life and they have to dress really nice, formals for the girls and tuxes for the guys. The flowers have to be perfect and so does the cake. It’s fancier than the ones at most weddings. All my relatives and friends plus all their families are invited. It adds up to at least 200 guests."

It sounds like fun. Abbie and Marcie shared a look, two cheer captains on a