I could not hide from his pain if he wanted to. I was nine years old. My family had just moved from a lager city on the east coast to a suburb on the west coast. Like most new comers, I found it difficult at first to make friends. Several other children lived on his block, but every time he tried to get close, they ran away. I think much about it, however, especially after I met another nine-year old boy named Wesley who lived four houses down and across the street. Wesley and me shared a common interest: baseball.

One Saturday afternoon, Wesley and me went to the park. We had just watched a baseball game

A crowd gathered and I begin to hear several other kids shout, "Kill the nigger! Kill the nigger!" I started to cry, and the other boys laughed at me. Several minutes passed before someone's father came over and separated us, scolding me to causing trouble and to back to my own neighborhood. I looked over to me new friend Wesley for support, but he just turned his back on me. "That hurt more than all the punches." "I thought we were friends. Friends stick up for one another. I think he was scared, too."

A shouting match ensued and I called the boy a dirty name. "I probably shouldn't have called him a name, but he was calling me names. Looking back, I know it wasn't nice." The boy then hit me; I struck back and began to fight. "I was scared because my house was several blocks away. I didn't even know why we were fighting."

I had not noticed at the time, but I wa

Some common words found in the essay are:
World Series, , white people, kill nigger, boys laughed,
Approximate Word count = 587
Approximate Pages = 2 (250 words per page double spaced)