𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩 !

for in her glance there is a snare -- and in her smile, there is a blight !

“were you listening?” eyes flick over to her classmate, nervous for a reason that has nothing to do with the class. she’s very used to being flat-out ignored by her white classmates; doesn’t mean she’s going to stop trying altogether. rochelle’s drawing a pentagram on her notebook page, awkwardly tries to cover it with her hand. “i mean, what does he expect us to do?”

she doesn’t expect the question; looking up from her cig, rochelle thinks about the question, turns it over in her mind. what does she think (what does nancy expect her to think)? she taps some ash off, watches it fall by her boot. “what’s wrong with it, nance?”

josephina (zawe ashton), velvet buzzsaw