Chapter+9

Chapter 9 I thought it was easy making friends at my new school until I met Martin. The first week of school he wouldn’t leave me alone. He made fun of my sneakers because they were brand new, and my “country” accent. He asked me what I was doing in their neighborhood. Who’s neighborhood? I thought this was a free country? He was always getting into trouble at school. The teachers always yelled at him and he was in detention a lot. Whenever we had class he would always jump out of his seat raising his hand, but never got called on. One day he even said to the teacher he doesn’t call on him, because he is black. Didn’t call on him, because he is black? I had never heard of anything like that. This was just the beginning Martin was really starting to annoy me, so I told the teacher after our class one day. One day during recess he came up to me when we were playing basketball. He said he couldn’t believe another white kid moved into the neighborhood and we were buying all the houses, so there wouldn’t be any left for his family or friends. He also told me I get called on in class, because I am white, so the teachers think I’m smart. I had never heard of anything like this. What was this kid’s problem? After I talked to our teacher I realized I met another kid who was affected by September 11th. Martin's father was a **bus-boy** at **Windows of the World**. It was a really nice restaurant that was at the top of the North Tower. His dad went into work that day and was going to work his usual breakfast and lunch shift. The American Airlines Flight 11 that hit that tower killed everyone who was working there that morning. Martin’s father’s body was never found. My teacher said he has had a really hard time with this and acts out his anger in school. Since his dad died, times have been really tough for their family. They received some money for his death, but not a lot. The bank took their house and they had to move in with other family members. He feels that since they didn’t have a lot of money to begin with it is even harder for them now. Martin would point out all of the other “white kids” in the city who had parents that died were fine except him. He thinks their family is being punished for being poor and black in New York City. I had never heard of anything like this. Where I was from everyone seemed to be happy and had jobs and a house. Their parents cooked them dinner, the kids played outside until it was dark, and we went on vacations every summer. I realized I never had to worry about anything like this. I decided maybe I should try and talk to Martin and make him feel better. After all, I had met two other kids affected by 9/11 and they taught me something, maybe this time I could help Martin.