"You 'ere cuz I doin' a bad job?" Samuel asks, movin' his right hand 'way from the gin. He turn completely to me, raisin' one eyebrow, an' givin' me a frown. He don't seem so pleased that I here. Even though it shan't, my heart drops way down, righ' inta the tips of my toes. I feel as if he caused it, like he beat me as daddy does sometime.
"No I ain't." I back up 'till my back 'gainst the wall. He don't make no move to follow me, jus' sittin' an' still raisin' that one eyebrow. "I dunno if you doin' a bad job or not."
"Then you 'ere to make sure I ain't?"
I hate the way 'is voice is all accusin', like I jus' a little pawn of the Devil. of daddy. What happened ta the way he was all nice earlier? Why he almos' makin' me cry. The secon' slave look over at us, an' I glare as 'ard as I can. He need to work, he don't need to listen in on us.
I almos' say somethin' 'bout how rude he bein', but I don't. I won't. He still feedin' the cotton through with 'is fingers a bit, so there ain't no real reason to scream. I mean, he doin' is job. But I do wanna yell, so bad, real bad. Jus' to get it outta me. This mornin' been rough.
"Listen 'ere," I raise my voice at Samuel. "You don't gotta be so rude to me. I jus' doin' as I supposed to."
"Bein' you daddy's spy?"
"No," I yellin' now. "No I ain't."
"Yes you are."
"No I ain't."
He sigh, real lon' an' loud. "If you are 'ere to watch me, coulda please jus' sit there an' don't say nothin'. You distractin' me."
"You don't gotta be so rude to me," I huff, still wantin' to yell at 'im some mo'. I ain't done gettin' rid a my anger. An' he the only one who can take it. "An' by the looks a thin's, I ain't the only thin' distractin' you. You don't gotta lot done."
Lookin' at 'is pile, fo' a slave with only one hand, it actually ain't too bad. It better than the other slave. But still, he don't gotta kno' if I lyin' or ain't.
"I doin' real fine."
"No you ain't."
"Listen-"
"No you ain't- you doin' real awful- maybe I shoul' tell daddy."
He goes silent.