It weird without Mary, for Sunday the day we usually play nice and make fun of the mistress together. Miss. Lizabeth, Mary and I all different, save our hate for the mistress. I dress by myself, no one to laugh at the dress the Mistress set out for me, but me. It ain't as fun to mock her taste in fashion, when I the only one there to do it.
I wonder how Mary doin' with Mr. Smith. I picture her cryin' and my stomach drops. I dunno why I feel so bad for Mary, if I were in her shoes, she wouldn't be phased at all. I mean, I happy it ain't me, but... I dunno, sometime I wish my sister was jus' easier to hate. Then I wouldn't feel so guilty.
I get dressed on my own, curlin' my hair round my finger, before succorin' it up on my head. I wipe my face clean of all dirt and grass, and try smilin'.
"How do you do?" I ask myself, pretendin' that the mistress and daddy are right in front of me, "I do hope you ain't feelin' ill no more."
Even though they ain't even there, I still cross my fingers behind my back. I hope she ill forever.
"Oh, me, you ask? Why I am lovely, thank you Mistress," I say, all fake smiles for Daddy, "I jus' had a wonderful night talkin' with some slave and sleepin' beneath the stars thinkin' of my actual mother."
Daddy don't know how much we all hate the woman. She ill mannered and tempered and awful. She steal daddy's money and drip in jewels all day lon'. If it were up to her, slaves would get a whippin' all day lon' and I would be married off alon' with Mary, and James would stay at school forever, and she would replace us all with new lil' babies of her own. I bet on my life, that it was her who made the suggestion to have Mary go with Mr. Smith.
But she pretty. And when near daddy, she real sweet and subservient. She know jus' what to say to him to get her way. She know she gotta be nice to me when he there, but can get away with bein' meaner to Mary. She know never to bring up mother, and always tell my daddy he looks real sharp. That's what he likes to be called, sharp. Then she can tell daddy 'bout how she was raised, with no slaves at all. And he'll give her whatever.
Mos' of the slave whippens that daddy gives, is cause she wants entertainment. I think of all the wounds I've healed and shudder, if only the Mistress was on the other side of the whip. I smile, not even a little guilty for thinkin' somethin' so mean. She deserve it, she awful.
I wonder how Mary doin' with Mr. Smith. I picture her cryin' and my stomach drops. I dunno why I feel so bad for Mary, if I were in her shoes, she wouldn't be phased at all. I mean, I happy it ain't me, but... I dunno, sometime I wish my sister was jus' easier to hate. Then I wouldn't feel so guilty.
I get dressed on my own, curlin' my hair round my finger, before succorin' it up on my head. I wipe my face clean of all dirt and grass, and try smilin'.
"How do you do?" I ask myself, pretendin' that the mistress and daddy are right in front of me, "I do hope you ain't feelin' ill no more."
Even though they ain't even there, I still cross my fingers behind my back. I hope she ill forever.
"Oh, me, you ask? Why I am lovely, thank you Mistress," I say, all fake smiles for Daddy, "I jus' had a wonderful night talkin' with some slave and sleepin' beneath the stars thinkin' of my actual mother."
Daddy don't know how much we all hate the woman. She ill mannered and tempered and awful. She steal daddy's money and drip in jewels all day lon'. If it were up to her, slaves would get a whippin' all day lon' and I would be married off alon' with Mary, and James would stay at school forever, and she would replace us all with new lil' babies of her own. I bet on my life, that it was her who made the suggestion to have Mary go with Mr. Smith.
But she pretty. And when near daddy, she real sweet and subservient. She know jus' what to say to him to get her way. She know she gotta be nice to me when he there, but can get away with bein' meaner to Mary. She know never to bring up mother, and always tell my daddy he looks real sharp. That's what he likes to be called, sharp. Then she can tell daddy 'bout how she was raised, with no slaves at all. And he'll give her whatever.
Mos' of the slave whippens that daddy gives, is cause she wants entertainment. I think of all the wounds I've healed and shudder, if only the Mistress was on the other side of the whip. I smile, not even a little guilty for thinkin' somethin' so mean. She deserve it, she awful.
