J-K-L-;

I remember typing that over and over in the computer lab situated behind the stage in the gym. We were paired up in twos at each computer. My partner that day was a funny kid, Neal, who always made me laugh. It was my fourth-grade year. I was one of two black students in the entire class that year.

Two other girls, Yvonne and Ellie, were partnered at another computer near Neal and I. Yvonne was not exactly the class bully but she was two Pop Tarts away from it, and Ellie was the shy girl who rarely spoke. To this day, I’m not sure how the two became friends.

Yvonne started fussing at Ellie, almost barking out orders to her. Having been in school with Yvonne since first grade, I lost patience for her overbearing behavior. Poor Ellie just sat there helpless and red-faced, unable to muster up enough guts to stand up for herself. So I intervened. I said something like, “Hey Yvonne, why don’t you cut her some slack?”

Yvonne yelled, “Shut up, nigger!”

I’ll never forget the deafening silence that fell over the room or the hateful look on her face when she said that word.

Neal yelled back, “Yvonne! Gosh!”

I was so grateful that he came to my defense. No one else in that room did.

I started to sink down into my chair, wanting desperately to disappear. I had never felt so small and unnecessary before in my life.

Our computer lab teacher had stepped out of the room when this happened. When she returned, we all went on with our typing lesson. I didn’t tell her what Yvonne had said to me.

Because I had a plan.

As soon as we got back to the classroom, I told Ms. Dannon, our fourth-grade teacher about the incident. But I didn’t stop there. There was one more person I had to tell.

My big sister.

My friend Katie and I spotted her later that day in between classes, and we ran up to her. Trembling and fighting back tears, I told Nicolle that Yvonne had called me a “nigger” in computer class.

Nicolle said, “I will take care of this.”

Lunchtime came and I was seated at the long table with the rest of my class munching on my food when Katie came running up to me, laughing hysterically, to the point where she could hardly speak.

Katie said, “Your sister is yelling at Yvonne! You have to come quick!”

I jumped up from my seat and marched down to the other end of the table where the little racist was sitting and eating her lunch – in tears. My sister, standing with her hand on her hip, was reading her the riot act.

As I walked up, I overheard my sister say, “Don’t you ever call my sister that again, you fat cow!”

Did I mention Yvonne was chubby?

“Come on Courtney,” Nicolle said, and she escorted Katie and I back to the other end of the lunch table.

I sat back down and finished my lunch – with a smile.