The Freedom Writer's Diary

The Freedom Writer's Diary:

Diary 56:

Dear Diary,

A carton of milk was thrown, someone shouted "Fuck Niggers," and a big crowd formed, and the fighting began. There were people punching other people and there were people throwing things at each other. It must have lasted for about three minutes, although it seemed like three hours. Somehow I managed to find my way out of the crowd without hitting anyone or throwing a thing. It wasn't necessary for me to join in the fight because their reason for fighting was stupid. When I stood away from the crowd I saw the staff members and policemen breaking it up. The tardy bell rang a minute later, indicating that lunch was officially over. The crowd was reluctant to go to class because they wanted to see what happened to the people who started the fight.
Two people went to the principal's office, one was African American and the other was Hispanic. The principal suspended them both, hoping to rid of the problem as fast as he could, but his decision made the problem worse. Friends of both races now held grudges against each other.
After school, I walked to the bus stop by myself. I noticed there were some Hispanics at the next bus stop where some Hispanics were waiting. When the bus arrived everyone got on the bus, and another fight broke out. This was round two. Some guy started swinging a stick that came from one of the art classes at school. There were at least twenty people from each side fighting on the bus. I got off and stood behind a bench. There were so many people on the bus that it started to rock back and forth. The bus driver told them she would call the police, so the African Americans got off the bus.
As they were waiting for the next bus, a Hispanic boy crossed the street to the bus stop. He didn't see that a fight had just ended, but he did see the angry tension in the crowd as he walked past the bus stop. As he walked by the crowd, someone stepped in front of him and asked him "What did you say?" The boy had said nothing at all. The boy didn't respond, but tried to walk past. The boy who confronted him suddenly punched him in the face. He fell unconcious into the bushes then everyone rushed him at once. There were twenty angry boys against one. Someone grabbed him by the neck and dragged him out on the street. They started kicking, and punching him in his ribs, face, anywhere else they could reach. Someone picked up a metal trash can and slammed it into his face. Traffic was being held up, a bus arrived at the stop across the street, it stopped, and the bus driver got off to help the boy. He screamed, "Stop it, you punks." Someone turned around and punched the bus driver in the face, the bus driver ran to a store nearby and called the police. A lady got out of her car and also tried to help the boy, but got hit in the face for her efforts. As soon as the lady got back into the car the police came, and put an end to the fighting.
The boy lay unconcious, his arms, legs, and back were all broken. I watched as he was taken to the hospital and watched as the culprits were arrested.
"Why didn't I do anything to help him?" I asked myself. Maybe it was because I was scared of the consequences. Most likely, I would have been mauled by the crowd. Even though I could haev been hurt, I wish I had done something. If Ms. G finds out that I just stood by and did nothing, she'll be really pissed at me. After all, I wasn't being very "self-reliant". I just hope she doesn't find out.