“What are you?” I’m mixed. Half white and half…. “What are you?” Whenever anyone asks me what I’m mixed with I tell them to guess. “What are you?” My friends and I have made a game of it. “What are you?” Most people think I’m trying to be “slick” when I ask them to guess. “What are you?” What no one knows, is that neither of those is true. “What are you?” What. Are. You. Reality is that I have no answer…and I suppose a part of me is hoping they will. When they guess will I find some insight? Will it finally click? Can they tell me the answer? Once upon a time, a decision was made; it was not made easily. But it was made. Not to find an answer, but to continue the journey.

“Can’t you just say it once?”

Silence. I can’t talk. I need to think. What do I say? Then I remember. I remember when I first saw him. When I first saw him and realized he was looking at me! It had been a rough freshman year; one I wanted to forget. And my sophomore year was looking to be the same. Until that day. My heart starts beating fast just remembering it. Tyler is beyond cute; he is gorgeous. Add to that the fact that I’m mixed, but look white, and he’s black…at Berkeley High that matters. So I just knew my chances were…well I never even considered the possibility of having a chance. Granted, he doesn’t seem all that…intellectual. But who cares?! He’s so nice and humble too. Also, he does play football, so maybe it’s just an act? One thing I learned real quick at Berkeley High was that once you walked on campus you were placed into a group by the already present student body, and if you wanted to stay safe, you better stay within your assigned group. Maybe he just wants to stay a jock?

We started talking in class and eventually he asked for my number. It was perfect. We liked each other. I actually believed he liked me. It was a dream. All those Christopher Pike books come to life! When we first held hands in the movie theater my whole body tingled. I kept repeating in my head, “He likes me. He likes me. He likes me. This beautiful, popular football player likes me.” Heaven. Felt like heaven. Isn’t that a song?

But whoever said heaven was forever is wrong. “Hey! Bitch! Yeah, you! You go out with Tyler?” I was completely confused. Berkeley High is a very big school and I had no idea who this female was. “Excuse me?” Ok, so there is a small chance I had a little bit of attitude in my voice. But she did just call me a bitch.

“You heard me! You go out with Tyler?!” Now, I can, once in a while, when pushed, have a little temper. This female? She pushed me.

“That is none of your fuckin’ business.”

“Hold up. You must not know who I am.”

“I don’t give a damn who you are.”

“Oh no you didn’t. You need to ask somebody! Go ask somebody who I am!”

“Didn’t I just say I don’t care who you are?! Now mind your own fuckin’ business and leave me alone!”

Now, you may think I’m tough. But I think I’m stupid. Let me explain. I’m an athlete, so I have muscle, but I play soccer, so I’m kinda skinny. 5’ 5” and about 115 pounds. I’m also white (half, but those technicalities don’t matter here), which at Berkeley High means I’m up for grabs to anyone that wants to practice their bullying. This girl was black, which automatically means tougher and more experienced with fighting, 5’ 6” or 5’ 7” and about 180 pounds. Like I said: stupid.

“You better watch your back. I know people around here, so you better ask around and find out who I am. And stay away from Tyler.”

When I talked to Tyler that night and told him what happened he was silent. I knew something was up; he was thinking about something. This was not the first time someone had come up to me and said something about my dating Tyler. Nor was it the first time I had been threatened. Tyler had been having a hard time with his friends as well. They didn’t like the fact that he was dating someone who was white, even if I was only half white. When I asked what was wrong, he said he was tired of getting shit too. His friends wouldn’t stop giving him a hard time for dating a “white girl.” Ignoring the fact that I had just told him I was almost killed by a chunky Amazon warrior, I was, of course, appropriately sympathetic to his situation. As a good girlfriend should be.

“Does that mean you want to break up with me?”

“Of course not. But. Well. I do have one question. I mean. I have an idea about how to make this all go away. And then everything would be fine.”

“Ok. That would be good!”

“Well, a lot of my friends think you’re black and only give me shit because you don’t hang out on the slopes. They think you are ignoring your black side.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot. Even with my last name they still think I’m black! Crazy.”

“Well, if you just said it. People would stop bothering us.”

“Huh? If I said what? What do you mean?”

“Well…I mean…just say you’re black. No one would know you’re lying.”

Silence.

“Can’t you just say it once? Then we could be together.”

And after remembering everything that happened that day and the days before, I needed time to think.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not that big a deal.”

I think of my family. My mom. My dad. My sister. I think of my freshman year. I don’t belong anywhere at Berkeley High. Could this take away my loneliness? Could this bring me friends? Would I finally be able to fit in? He’s right. They are only words…

Then it hits me. From nowhere. You know in movies when all the sound goes quiet and the walls and bookshelves all go blurry? It was like that. And I know. I know that this was one of those moments. That whatever decision I make right now is important. I don’t know why and I don’t know what the consequences will be, but I know I need to make the right choice. I have to. It feels like hours, but it takes me 15 seconds to make a decision.

“No.”

“But why not? Don’t you want things to be easier? Don’t you wanna be with me?”

“Tyler, I like you a lot. A whole lot. But no. I’m not gonna say I’m someone I’m not. This isn’t gonna work.”

“What do you mean?”

“You asked me to say I’m black! If you don’t understand that…I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

And like that, my very own personal Christopher Pike love romance was over.

What the hell was I thinking?!

Of course there was moment of regret; a moment when I questioned if I made the right decision. I stood and looked at the phone. Should I call him back?

But then another emotion takes over. Perhaps it’s pride. I may not have an answer to who I am, but I know who I am not.

I turn and walk away from the phone…and continue on my journey of self discovery.