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"Why?"

"We'll never be lovers. Brody. Forget the whole idea," I said as firmly as I could.

"Why don't you like me? Do you think I'm some sort of spoiled brat like my sister? I work hard. I don't take anything for granted and I'll never take you for granted. Rain."

"That's not it. Brody. I like you."

"You think my family will be opposed? You think because they're from white Southern families, they'll object to you because you're AfricanAmerican? If they did that. I wouldn't care. They'd lose me." he promised.

I shook my head.

"Brody, please stop."

He grabbed my left hand and started to bring it to his lips. "Stop it. Brady!" I shouted, pulling my hand roughly from his.

"What? You think you're better than me. or something? Is that it?"

"Think what you want. Only get out," I said sharply.

"There are lots of girls who wouldn't throw me out of their bedrooms." he bragged, his ego bruised.

"Good. Go to them," I said.

I hated being this mean. but I had to. I told myself. I had to be meaner still.

"You're too young for me," I continued. "And you're still a boy. The years between us don't even begin to suggest the differences. I'm worlds older than you and I don't want any relationships. I told you that. I don't know what gave you the idea we could be lovers,"

"Me neither." he said angrily.

"So then, go to sleep. Let me sleep." I cried.

In the darkness he couldn't see the tears streaming down my cheeks. If he had, he would not have understood what really poured them over my lids.

"Sure. Go back to England,'" he said. "You'll be sorry. I sure had you pegged wrong."

"That's right," I said. You pegged me wrong." I covered my face with my hands.

He stood there staring at me for a few moments and then he left my bedroom, slamming the door closed behind him.

"Oh Mother," I cried. "you don't know how much pain you continue to put into your own children."

I fell back to the pillow and turned to smother my tears in it. I couldn't fall back to sleep. About twenty or so minutes later. I heard Brady stomp past my room.

"Have a good life," he cried and pounded down the stairs.

"Brody!" I shouted.

I got up and charged after him. The front door slammed shut as I hurried down the stairs. By the time I got outside, he was in his car, revving it up angrily. He spun it around, the tires squealing, and shot down the driveway.

"Brody!" I called after him, running down the steps.

A few seconds later, the taillights of his car disappeared in the darkness

He was gone.

5

Unburied Sins