“American Haints,” a New Story by Kimbilio Fellow Lyndsey Ellis

Joi came out of the kiln after class one afternoon. She struck up a conversation while Danielle was glazing her handmade jug. She appeared several decades behind, with her asymmetrical hair and hoop earrings, and there was a bullet hole surrounded by dried blood on her patchwork sweater. 

“Thought you’d be scared or something.” Joi smiled at Danielle. “You cool, though.” 

Danielle smiled back. She too was surprised at how well she held it together. Her heart was thunder inside her chest, but she sat still and swallowed her nerves. There was something about Joi that called to her and toggled her core. She was eager to become friends, unlike the people Danielle met during her pottery classes at the Art Center that summer. They seemed plastic, always smiling and waving, but rarely speaking, unless it was to instruct. They told Danielle how to extract clay from underneath topsoil at a nearby construction site and showed her how to turn it into the clay slip she used to bond her work. But, then they tried to designate her as the sole clay slip maker for all the class projects, a role that she refused.

Being cooped up with fake classmates at the Art Center, Danielle quickly came to appreciate the folks in her own neighborhood. Sometimes they annoyed her by being too loud and heavy-handed, but she never felt forced to work for anyone’s approval. Her close friends were warm and real. They were teenagers who, like her, wanted to realize their dreams without the reminder of being a shoo-in from the city’s underbelly, getting by on summer arts grants for at-risk youth. 

Read the rest of the story at The Kweli Journal website: http://www.kwelijournal.org/fiction/2021/5/14/american-haint-by-lyndsey-ellis