Black Magic - Chapter 1 Major revision


by:  A. J. Odom



Chapter 1


            I had always been told the four years of high school were supposed to be the best years of my life.  I heard it so often I had started to get sick of hearing it.  Even with all that was said, my senior year was supposed to be the best.  It was supposed to be the one year all of the fantasies I had while in the lower grades were supposed to come true.  Those fantasies had mostly come from the books I had read or the movies I had seen, and after everything that I had been told, read, or fantasized, I had come to one conclusion.  All of them lied.  The best year of my life was not supposed to start this way, my first day in a brand new school.  I was apprehensive going to sleep the night before, and my first waking moments did nothing to inspire confidence.

            “Crystal,” my mom’s voice sounded from what seemed to be an eternity away. 

            Of course I didn’t move.  All I wanted was one more hour. 

            “Crystal.  Get your ass up.” 

            I lifted up my head, opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw was my mom standing in the door of my room.  God, did she have to look so hateful in the morning?    My mom was a very beautiful woman or a beautiful African American woman as she would have said.  I could only wish I looked as good as her when I was her age.  However, she was very much a no nonsense woman.  I guess she don’t get to be the first black female partner in a stuffy law firm being wishy-washy.  There she was standing in the doorway, looking at me like I was the scum of the earth.  She still looked great though.  How could she look so good getting out of the shower? 

            “It’s about time,” she started.  “Do you have to have that alarm so loud?   You slept through the damn thing anyway.  You’re as bad as your knucklehead brother.  This is not going to become routine every morning. You hear me?”  Leave it to my mom to be all professional when giving the standard black mom smack down.  She then broke into her trade mark grin while taking a look at the painting above my bed.  “Breakfast is in one hour.  I’ll see you then.”  She left then to finish her morning ritual of getting up my brother. 

            I turned to look at the painting above my bed that my mom always seems to take a look at whenever she is in my room.  It was done by her best friend supposedly when she was pregnant with me.  It’s a pretty good painting, but I didn’t get it.  I mean it looked nice.  An African woman who had the ability to manipulate the elements, but she really didn’t look African.  Her skin wasn’t dark enough.  Sure that is stereotyping in its basic form, but caramelized brown skin is not how most people would say that an African woman would look like, myself included.  Then again she was supposed to look exactly like me, so maybe I’m a little too close to the subject to be giving any kind of opinion on the matter.

            I didn’t spend a lot of time looking at the picture, however.  I had to make myself presentable for the first day of school.  Of course, I should have spent the whole hour getting ready.  It would be so damn embarrassing to show up looking a hot mess when I work at Areopostale.  Despite the risk of embarrassment, I didn’t take the whole hour to get dressed.  There was no way in hell I was going to not be downstairs in an hour.  The day was already going to be trying enough. The one thing I did not need was Mom’s wrath for the entire morning.  I had seen enough with my brother. 

             I made my way downstairs in something simple: jeans, a black shirt, and sandals.  There was no need to go overboard.  I was sure that I looked good enough to turn heads, even though I had no idea what I was up against or whose head I could be turning.  Then again, I’ve heard that I filled out in all the right places.  Teenage boys can be so crass. 

            “Good morning, honey,” My dad greeted me.  “How is my angel?  Looking forward to today?”  Of course, he and my brother were already there.  God forbid if any of us showed up later than Mom. 

            “About as much as a root canal,” I replied while kissing him on the cheek.   That was not a regular occurrence.

            “Well, at least you look pretty,” he said.  I grinned in response.

            “Of course she does,” my brother quipped.  “It’s to hide how much of a spaz she really is.”

            “Spaz?  Did you just call me a spaz?  I’m sure you’ll have a promising career in hip-hop,” I retorted.  Sarcasm had always been my specialty.

            “Well, if it’s because of her grades, I’d rather her be a spaz,” Mom said as she entered the dining room. She always had an uncanny ability of being able to hear through thick walls.  She continued, “You have me wanting to call the Food and Commercial Workers Union.  I’m afraid my only son is going to be a long time dues paying member, since it looks like he’ll be working at Ralph’s for the next thirty years.”

              The look on my brother’s face was priceless.  If only black people could turn red.

            However, Mom was not done.  “Oh, and while you’re here, I don’t want any of those fast ass girls in this house.  I might have kids who are old enough to have kids of their own, but I’m way too young to be a grandmother.”  There was no indication that she was joking.

Again, here she is with the black mother smack down.    However, in her defense, my brother’s ambition to become a successful hip-hop artist had become quite tiring.  It wouldn’t have been so bad if he had any kind of talent.  I’d heard way too much and he sounded like someone from Laguna Beach trying gangster rap.  He sure tried to look the part.  The type of girls he had running around our old condo had the place looking like a Ludacris video, even though the girls looked like the girl in the one Destiny’s Child video where the girl was walking around scantily dressed while twirling a string of gum between her teeth and her fingers causing her to predictably fall on her face.  I had always thought Ludacris had a lot better taste in women, and I liked Ludacris.  I didn’t know how my brother can afford it.   Mom refused to pay for any of it, but I took the tone of what I didn’t know couldn’t hurt me.  Not knowing anything would make it difficult to be issued a subpoena if he ever got charged with a felony.  

My brother had started to protest when a quick, “You heard your mom,” coming from Dad stopped him in his tracks.  This was the Robinson family morning ritual at its finest.

It was the only time during the day when all four of us sat down to enjoy a meal together.  It was the norm when Dad was a pediatrician and Mom was a high priced lawyer.  She had always been mindful to have at least one meal together.  I thought she had read somewhere that if we didn’t; my brother and I would grow up to be criminals.  Since she basically wore the pants in this family, no one argued.  It was actually a good thing.  No matter how much we joked around and kidded with each other, we always seemed to get along like a family.

We had moved to Spring Hill, some little northern San Diego County town that didn’t even show up on a map, at the end of the last school year, my junior year.  Denise Sharon Robinson, known as Dee to all of her girlfriends, had just made partner the past January.  Dr.  Benjamin Robinson had won the Head of Pediatrics position at La Jolla General the previous November.  My parents had always wanted a big house and to move away from the city, but were nice enough to let me and my brother finish out the school year instead of moving us in the middle of the year.  If I had my way, they would have waited another year all together, but that was beside the point.  Or was it?  My parents were never one to just give us anything.  My brother and I had done chores, and we rode the bus or trolley to school.  We didn’t live a big life of luxury, with the exception of the Downtown condo that we lived in, it was huge. Mom had always been adamant about us going to public school, and living like most black kids in San Diego.  I went to school with middle-class and lower class kids even though my brother and I were anything but.

That all changed once Mom made partner.  Maybe, it was as a reward to themselves for all of the years of hard work.  God knew they deserved it.  My mother was the first African American woman hired at her firm.  It was not a shock to anyone that she had a lot to prove.  Dad, being a pediatrician in La Jolla, had it a little worse off.  No one wanted a young black man to look after their kids.  Of course, no one would claim racial prejudice, but people were always different when it came to things that would affect their children.  Dad stuck with.  He loved kids and had decided not to go for the glamour, which I was always lead to believe was surgery.  My parents were all about hard work, and it certainly paid off.

The BMW they bought me after moving was surprising.  I was responsible for fuel and the general upkeep of the car.  Being an unemployed teenager was out of the question.  Gas was not cheap, and it was the one thing I was worrying about as I drove to school, brother in tow.   The drive was pretty much uneventful, but when driving in the high priced desert, nothing can be expected except one hundred degree heat in September.  Springhill High was a lone building in the sand, and believe it or not, I could still smell the ocean after parking.  San Diego County was basically the coast and then desert.  Grass was pretty sparse and so were the people.  Springhill High was populated by about seven hundred students.  It was not what I was use to but, I wasn’t use to spending the first several minutes of my senior year trying to locate my locker either.  Getting out of the car, my first thought was how I did not know a single face in the parking lot.  It was depressing.  There were none of my girls from the track team to laugh with and none of the boys from the football or basketball team to fantasize about.  Only totally unknown faces and not a single one of them was black.   I must have missed them.  Hopefully I would run into some later.  My brother had long since taken off going for God only knew where.

I took my first step inside, and looked around trying to get some bearing on where my locker was supposed to be. Mom had gotten us a map when we had registered, and it quickly found its way into the recycle bin.  I didn’t understand it then, and it hadn’t changed.   The architect responsible for designing the school must have been on some good crack.  No person in their right mind would slap buildings together in such a way and expect adequate compensation.  However, the place did have the desired southern California suburban feel.   It was an outdoor mall with classrooms instead of high priced boutiques.

I wondered the halls aimlessly looking for any clue that I was heading in the right direction.  Fortune was not on my side this particular morning.  I must have made about ten clueless turns before hearing a voice I recognized.

“Crystal!” said the female voice. 

I turned and instantly smiled when I saw Angelica Hernandez, my new best friend for the next five minutes.  Angel and I first met at the store where we both worked.  We became fast friends working those long daytime hours when no one under the age of thirty-five seemed to make their way into the place unless they were looking for a job.  She’d been living in Spring Hill for a while, but was originally from Texas.  Her dad worked in upper management in some high-end, downtown hotel.  She was a sultry Mexican and was voluptuous in all the right places.  I couldn’t count how many times guys would drool over her while working.  Mexicans speaking Spanish in Southern California were a dime a dozen, but Angel? Well, not so much.  It was quite comical when older Hispanic ladies would come in the store, take a look at Angel, and would start to speak to her in Spanish.  Angel would look absolutely clueless.  I would have to step in, and the one question I was always asked was how can Angel claim to be a Mexican living close to the Mexico border and not speak Spanish.  I have never asked Angel that question, and since I put such a high value on my life, I figured I had better not ask.

“I bet you’re glad to see me,” she said walking towards me.  I was surprised I could even hear her.  The people around us apparently didn’t have inside voices.  “I got tired of watching you walk in circles after the seventh time.  It’s good for you I persuaded Caleb to pick me up early.  I figured you could use my help.” 

“Where is Caleb?” I asked with thinly veiled suspicion.  For the record, Caleb was Angel’s boyfriend.  I’d heard enough about him, but had yet to meet him.  I was starting to think he didn’t exist.  Considering the stories she’s told of his stamina, my suspicions were warranted.

“Oh, he’s in his truck with the rest of his buds.  His first class is not until second period.”  My suspicion was either unnoticed or ignored.  The latter was more likely.  “He’s looking forward to meeting you.”

“I can’t wait.”

“This is about you.  I’ve been here before.  Let’s find you locker.  I’m sure the secretary is sick of seeing you.”

“Very funny.”

We start walking down a hall that I had passed multiple times, while I take a look at the people.  The people were like I’ve seen on all of the shows.  Everyone is mostly well dressed, and they looked like money.  On the other hand, it was probably the same as any school in America.  Freshman walking around looking lost, check.  Drummers from the school band beating on anything they could find, check.  Mean Girls standing around gossiping, big check.  The school was very clean and I started to get a little more comfortable despite the unnerving stares I was receiving.  I couldn’t tell if the guys were checking me out, or if they had never seen a black person before.  Didn’t these people watch television?  We did exist outside hip-hop videos.

We found my locker rather quickly, and I said as much to Angel. 

She responded, “Be glad you’re a senior.  All of our lockers are centrally located.  If you were a freshman, I don’t even think I could’ve helped you find it.”

“Let me guess.  They are all trifling in comparison.”

“You said it not me.”

“Well, spare me the details.  I can only imagine.  Is there anything else that I need to know?”

“Well, what is your first class?”

“English.   The teacher is Ross.”

“Ouch.  Let’s head that way.  I’ve heard the rumors about her.  You’re in for a dozy of a first class.  We’ve only got a few minutes before class starts anyway.”

“What you mean no homeroom?”

“Homeroom?  Was your last school stuck in the stone ages?  I haven’t had a homeroom since fifth grade.”

“Sorry to be so behind the times.  I’ll remember that the next time you ask me for fashion advice.”  I finish fiddling around in my locker and we got going.  “Thanks for the help.  God knows where I would have ended up.”

“Don’t get use to it.  American Law is close by.  You’re on your own until lunch.  I can’t hold your hand all day.  Even though, I’m sure some of the freaks would probably enjoy it.”

We made our way along a route that would be very easy for me to remember.  True to form, Angel was very cordial with everyone.  At first, I was kind of surprised at how well known she was.  I would even say popular, even though that’s a dangerous thing to say in a high school setting.  Despite what Webster said, being popular did not always translate to being liked.  Then, I remembered she was a cheerleader, and that had its benefits.    She spoke to everyone and played them perfectly.  Everyone seemed to like her.  However, I can’t say she felt the same about everyone else.  As a matter of fact, she let me know the dirt on everyone who mattered. She spared no punches especially for, surprising enough, her fellow rah-rahs.  By her telling, they were even worse then what one would expect of cheerleaders.  She introduced me to people who she felt that I should know, but I got the feeling that she was holding back.  Maybe she didn’t want much competition, but I had no idea why.  She had a man already.  What was I going to do, steal him from her?  I didn’t even know who he was.  Getting through the day without any major gaffes was going to be hard enough.  We got to Mrs. Ross’ class with about a minute to spare. 

“Well, good luck,” Angel said with an evil grin.  She was having way too much fun with this, and that was going to have to change at the first available opportunity.  It didn’t escape me she never expanded on those supposed rumors about Mrs. Ross.  She changed the subject.  “I’ll see you at lunch.  I’m eating with Caleb.  You might as well join us.  We can go to Calculus afterwards.”

“Oh, yes!  Being the third wheel was always a lifelong dream of mine.”

“Well, do you want to eat by yourself? You don’t exactly have a lot of choices here.”

“Solitude is very healthy at times. You should try it.”

“Solitude is only healthy when my man isn’t around.  It forces me to find other ways to stay occupied.”

“God, are you sure you’re not a dude?  Did I miss noticing your Adam’s apple or did you have it surgically removed?”

“What? I have needs.”  She paused.  “You might want to move or are you going to start charging admission to be allowed into class.”

“I could use the money.  It will soon be four dollars a gallon for gas.”  However, I did move.  My timing was perfect to let a very fine guy pass, a damn good looking one for a white guy.  I mean tall, dark brown hair which was a little too long, green eyed, and very well built.  He could not have been student. He looked about twenty-years-old.  Maybe he was, and he had failed some classes.  I couldn’t even find fault with how he was dressed.  Who would have thought wearing jeans that actually fit would make a guy look so damn good?  Maybe he even bought them at my store, but I wasn’t stupid enough to try to look and find out.  I knew where the logos were on jeans.  I was not about to be caught staring at his butt.

Even though, I had moved, he stopped right in his tracks.  Now he was a big dude, but he had plenty of room to get by.  He glanced at me and then turned to Angel.  “If the two of you were charging, I’d gladly pay full price every day.” 

Angel totally turned to mush in front of this guy.  “Oh, you’re so sweet.”  This had better not be the infamous Caleb.  I was going to be so impressed and maybe even a little jealous. She continued, “Be careful what you wish for you just might get it, and gas is pretty expensive.”

“And you really need gas money,” I retorted. “Or you would if you actually had a car.” Oh, if looks could kill, all of my body parts would have been severed.

 This guy, who Angel obviously knew and rudely decided not to introduce us, smiled wickedly.  “Well, since it’s not gas money, I guess you’re just whoring yourself out.  I hope Caleb doesn’t find out.”

I smiled for more than one reason.  However, if there was one thing I could say about Angel was that she always recovered well and quickly.  “Well if he did, he’d probably start hounding me for sixty percent.  He’d pimp his own girl out if it made good money.”  The bell rang as Angel continued.  “I’ll see you guys later.”  She then left and neither one of us stood around to watch her leave.    

  As I entered the room and took the only seat that was left to take, I did notice that this guy watched every move I made with a great smile on his face.  He had perfectly straight, white teeth.  At least he didn’t smoke, or he used a really good teeth whitening regimen.  Of course, I wouldn’t get to spend much time looking at those.  I got to spend the whole year staring at the back of his head.  Actually, it was more like his left ear.  That was totally okay.  He had great hair. 

“Well, now, that you’ve all taken you seats,” said the voice of the rumored Mrs. Ross.  “School rule says that the first week of the semester, I’m not allowed to recorded unexcused tardiness.  That is very fortunate for about ninety percent of you, since that ninety percent would have been late.”  I couldn’t see every one, but the two sitting next to me were looking at this lady like she was bat shit crazy.  However, she didn’t seem to notice and kept right on talking.  “Now when you come to my class, I expect you to be on time.  Being on time means sitting in your seat when the bell rings ready for class to start. Not being in your seat when the bell rings and not having a pass is considered to being late unexcused in my class, even if you are already in the room.  Now with this being a class full of seniors, I sure you know what happens when you are late too many times.”

 This was my first class?  I could see right away this was going to be a challenge. If even a quarter of the time she was actually ready to start teaching when the bell rang, I could kind of understand where she was coming from, but these types of teachers usually spend more time writing detention slips than actually grading papers or even teaching for that matter, wallowing in their self importance.  Basically we end up picking up detentions or worse, not for actually interrupting class by being late-which I would admit was inconsiderate, but for not being seated at the exact time the bell rang all to sit and wait for the teacher to decide when to actually start teaching. That was usually somewhere between five and fifteen minutes after class was usually supposed to start, and usually because they were not prepared.   Now, I was not saying that Mrs. Ross was going to be one of those types.  She might be one of the few who actually like to start class when the bell rings.  It’s just that prior precedent didn’t exactly work in her favor. 

Prior precedent didn’t seem to matter, however, because after a really quick roll call, she got right down to business.  “Now we are going to do a little exercise.  Each one of you has a letter taped to your desk.  Each letter was placed at random and matches the letter placed on someone else’s desk.  You will have one minute to find who that person is.  Then you’ll have another five minutes to learn as much about that person as you can.  You should listen well because you each will spend one minute telling the class about that person.  This is a graded exercise, so you will have to tell me your name before you start.  Now I might be old, but it is really unreasonable to expect me to put names with faces after one roll call.”

Didn’t all these people know one another?  I was sure that some of these people have known each other since the first grade, but most of what they knew was pretty superficial, so we might actually learn something we didn’t know.   However I still didn’t see the point of it.  She didn’t give us much in the way of guidance, and most of these people will only tell things that most of us knew anyway.  I needed all the help I could get, but I didn’t know a single person who liked these getting to know you type of exercises.  No one liked being forced to talk in front of a lot of people period, let alone being forced to talk about someone who they did not really give a damn about.  We weren’t really too excited about this assignment, which is basically what it was since it was being graded.  Besides the fact we had no idea how we were being scored.  Mrs. Ross had already decided to keep us guessing.

“Time starts now.” 

The next few minutes were interesting.  It seemed everyone knew who they wanted to be paired with, and all of the girls, except one, wanted to pair with one particular guy, and his identity wasn’t surprising.  It seemed the guy Angel had spoken to just a little bit ago was apparently the heartthrob of this place.  Judging by the girls’ reaction, he was also single.  For some reason, that more intriguing to me.  However, the guys were a little less obvious about who they would rather have been paired with.  They didn’t go to any one person.  Of course, I stayed seated, not wanting to seem too eager, and just watched everyone.  It was quite comical to watch all the girls walk away a little bummed when they were turned away from the heartthrob.   It was just a little five minute assignment, and they acted as if they were bummed that he wasn’t going to be their Chemistry Lab partner.  They then went to some other guy, actually ganging up on him.  Lather, rinse, and repeat, but he was pretty cute too.  This school had some fine white boys, but it made it too easy to find out who was in the in-crowd and who wasn’t, at least as far as this class is concerned.  Of course, the heartthrob just sat in his seat letting all the girls approach him, apparently knowing this would happen.  It was not attractive, but he couldn’t just push them all out of the way when they ganged up on him.  He really did not have a lot of other options, so maybe I was being a little too tough on him.   I still had yet to move, and about thirty seconds in some of the guys had finally seemed to notice that I was alive. None of them shared my letter, but I did enjoy the attention.  They seemed nice enough, and a few actually introduced themselves.   Then, after all the girls had finally decided to leave Mr. Heartthrob alone, he stood, looked around, and then looked directly at me.  I just shrugged.  What else could I do? 

He walked over to me and asked, “So what letter did she stick you with?”

            “The lovely letter F,” I said.  “I hope that isn’t a sign of future grades I’ll be getting.”

            “I feel the same way.  An F would really hurt my chances of getting into Harvard.”

            “So you got stuck with an F too, huh?”

            “Lucky us.  I guess that means we’re partners.”

            “Lucky for whom?”  I didn’t plan the response, and immediately regretted that it came out of my mouth.  There wasn’t a very good answer to that question.  If he said I was lucky, I’d think he was a jackass.  If he said he was lucky, he’d come off as kind of creepy in addition to being full of it.  He obviously realized this because he had started to answer and stopped short to think it over a little more.  It was encouraging, but I was curious as to what his answer was originally.

            “I would say we’re both lucky.”  I hadn’t thought of that.  This guy was no dummy.  He continued, “It could have been worse.  It’s good that we are paired together.”

            “How’s is that good?  We don’t even know each other.”

            “That’s kind of the point.  Isn’t it?  This silliness is supposed to be about getting to know each other.”

              I couldn’t really argue the point and not come off as a moron.  It was even worse that I didn’t have any witty or smart response.  It didn’t seem to matter.  He didn’t wait for one.

            “So, what is your name, anyway?” he asked.

            “You know, most people usually tell their name first before they ask for someone else’s.”

            “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not most people.”

            “Unfortunately, I did notice.  It was hard not to.  Crystal Robinson.”

            “Bret Spencer,” he said as we shook hands.  “It’s very nice to meet you.”

            “A real pleasure,” I said quickly trying to move things along.  “So Bret, you’re trying to get in to Harvard.  That’s quite impressive.”

            “Why is that impressive?”

            “You don’t seem to be the type that would want to go to Harvard.”

            He laughed and wasn’t the least bit offended.  It said a lot more about him than he realized.

            “I’m not?”

“No, you seem a little more down to earth, for lack of a better description.”

“Basically, I don’t seem like a jackass.”

“Pretty much.”

“Well, I’m not really trying to get into Harvard.”  I didn’t react to this in anyway, so he continued.  “I wouldn’t have thought you would have been a friend of Angel’s either.”

I was predictably surprised, but not for the reasons he thought I would be.  He hadn’t said anything I hadn’t heard before.  It was more of how he said it, as if he knew more than he should.  I bit anyway.

 “Why is that?”

“From what she told me about you, and now after meeting you in person, you seem a little too nice.”

“Don’t get use to it. There is a lot that you don’t know about me.”

“I’d like to find out. Give me your best shot.”

“Maybe, some other time.”

“Damn. You’re turning me down already?”

 “If that’s how you want to take it.  Now, stop it.  We’ve got work to do.”  I wasn’t the least bit annoyed, but I didn’t think he was serious either.  He was such a flirt, and I had to admit he was good at it.  I got us back on point.  “So, why not Harvard?’

 “But I’m having fun, and there’s plenty of time.”

             “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

            “Oh, all right.”  He flashed this really hurt face.   He didn’t even attempt to make it appear to be genuine, but it still cute.  He just as quickly flashed another smile.  “Actually, they’re not known as a really good baseball school.  I just can’t see playing baseball for Harvard.”

            “Oh, you play baseball.  That’s nice.”

            His smile fell after that, a genuine reaction this time.  “Thanks for sounding so impressed.”

            “Sorry, I’m not a big fan of baseball.  It bores me.”

            “Oh so you’ve seen it?”

            “Do I look like I live in a cave?  My dad was a Braves fan.  He used to watch them on cable even back when they were horrible back in the eighties.”

            “You weren’t alive in the eighties.”

            “I’ve heard the stories.   Besides, we’re talking about you and not me,” I said with just a trace of being smug.   He smiled, and he was doing that a little too much.  I continued, “I guess you are pretty good.”

            “I’m the starting third baseman.”

            “Well, that would mean you are pretty good.”

            “I do my best.”

            “I bet you do.”

            “You have no idea.”

            “We’ll keep it that way for now.  I wasn’t asking for any ideas”

            That got a smile.  “I’ll take that.”  I wasn’t giving him any other choice but to take it.  “What about you?”

            “I’m a track runner.  Hopefully, I get to run for UCLA.”

            “I use to like Track, but there is too much cheating.”

            “I could say the same about baseball these days.”

            “And here I thought you weren’t a fan of baseball.”

            “What does that have to do with knowing baseball players cheat?  Roger Clemens was all over the news, even CNN, as was Marion Jones and company.”

“OK. I know now not to get into arguments with you.”

            “My mom’s a lawyer.  It must be in my blood.”

            “No kidding.  That’s a life’s dream of mine.”

            “You should meet her. She could give you tips.”

            “Oh I plan to.  I promise you that.”

            “Don’t write checks your ass can’t cash.”

            “We’ll see. I have a pretty hefty bank account.”

              This guy really had a lot of nerve.  However, he was quite likeable.  I could see how he was a friend of Angel’s, but, man, he did not quit.  The flirting didn’t stop for the rest of those five minutes.  We did find out a lot about each other, and he had an intriguing personality.  He was quite intelligent and easy on the eyes.  It was a combination that was hard to resist.  Of course, I didn’t stop his flirting and it only seemed to encourage him to the point where I was glad when Mrs. Ross called time.

            We got right to our presentations, and it was just as I expected.  Except for learning most of the people’s names, I didn’t really learn anything of any substance about any of them.  You could tell who was really wrapped up in their parents’ money and status because they tried to impress everyone with their parent’s connections.  It didn’t work, but it wasn’t surprising.  It was totally a waste of my time, and probably everyone else’s time as well.

       When it was my turn, I basically did the same thing, so I shouldn’t have complained.  However, I did make an appeal to Mrs. Ross to not give Bret any F’s so it wouldn’t ruin his chances to get into Harvard.  They both got a kick out of that, and it was the first time I had seen her smile since class had started.  It wasn’t the goal I had in mind, but I definitely wasn’t complaining.  It was good and not embarrassing in the least.  Someone else was determined to do that for me.

            “I’d like to introduce you to my future wife, Crystal Robinson.” Bret started

Redfae   Redfae wrote
on 5/8/2010 4:09:02 AM
This was really enjoyable. Will visit back to read chapter 2 which I see you have up. Does Crystal's mum have some kind of supernatural power?

Novel / Novella
writing ajodom
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