BLACK
MAGIC
by: A. J. Odom
Chapter
1
I
had always been told the four years of high school was 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.
“Val,”
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.
“Val. 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 get to be 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 that good getting out of
the shower? Not that I was about to get
an answer.
“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 seems always 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 would
spend the whole hour getting ready. It
would be so damn embarrassing to show up looking a hot mess when I work at
Areopostale. Well, to be truthful, I
didn’t take the whole hour. There was no
way in hell that 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 that’s because of her grades, I’d rather her be a spaz,” Mom said as she
entered the dining room. She always had this 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 since Mom refused to pay for
any of it, but I took the tone of what I didn’t know couldn’t hurt me. Besides, 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 it’s finest
It was the only
time during the day when all four of us sat down to enjoy a meal together. That must be the norm when your dad is a
pediatrician and your mom is a high priced lawyer. Mom had always been mindful to have at least
one meal together. I think that 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 at Roosevelt High 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.
This made it all
the more surprising that they bought me a BMW after we moved. Now I have to still pay for the gas and
general upkeep of the car. That was why
I held my job, something most people my age and who share the same living
conditions would balk at. 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 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. Believe it or not, I could still smell the
ocean when I parked my car. Then again, San Diego County is basically the coast and then
desert. Grass did last very long
here. Neither did people for that
matter. Springhill High was populated by
about nine hundred students. Not exactly
what I was use to, but, I was not use to spending the first several minutes of
my senior year trying to figure out where my locker was located either. Getting out of the car, my first thought was
how I did not know a single face in the parking lot, and that was seriously
depressing. None of my girls from the
track team to laugh with. 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. Right then, it was just to
time dive into deep waters. 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. My mom had gotten my
brother and me a map when we had registered, but I had long since thrown it in
the trash. I couldn’t understand it
then, and that hadn’t changed. Besides,
the architect who designed this place must have been on some good crack. No person in their right mind would slap
buildings together like this. However,
the place did have the southern California
suburban feel. It was basically an
outdoor mall with classrooms instead of ridiculously high priced clothing
stores.
I had no idea
where I was supposed to be going. I was
just turning corners with no lockers in sight.
After about my fifth clueless turn, I heard a voice that I recognized.
“Val!” said the
obviously female voice.
I turned and
instantly smiled when I saw Angelica Hernandez, my new best friend, at least
for the next five minutes. Angel and I
first met at the store where we both work.
We became fast friends working those long daytime hours in the store
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
basically what people would call a sultry Mexican. Many a time on our breaks at the mall would
guys just drool over her. 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 this close to the
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 hallway was so damn
loud. “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 staying power, 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 went unnoticed, or ignored, something she was good at. “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 look like money.
On the other hand, it’s the same as any high school across 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 walking around
with Angel, I started to get a little more comfortable. Of course, some of the stares I received were
unnerving. 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 walking me to my class. 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 love that.”
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 to say popular, even though that’s a dangerous thing to say in a
high school setting. Despite what
dictionaries said, being popular did not always translate to being liked. Then, I remembered that she was a
cheerleader, and that had its benefits.
She spoke to everyone who spoke to her, basically playing everyone perfectly. Everyone seemed to like her. However, I can’t say that 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 trying really hard not to go too far. I got the feeling that she didn’t want to
have much competition. I had no idea
why. She had a man already. It wasn’t not like I was going to steal him
away. I didn’t even know who he was and
just wanted to get through the day without embarrassing myself too much. 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 had not
escaped me that 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 just in time 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 because he
looked about twenty. Maybe he was, and
he had failed some classes. He even
dressed well. Who would have thought
that 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 and 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 at this
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.” Now 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.”
Oh, she was going to be one of those types.
These types of teachers were so much fun.
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 is 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.”
I didn’t really
understand this. 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, especially since she didn’t give us much of a guidance of
things that she actually wanted to know.
Most of these people will only tell things that most of us knew
anyway. I needed all the help I could
get, but I don’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. I could really speak for the entire class
when I say that 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.”
What happened next
was interesting. It seemed everyone knew
who they wanted to be paired with, and all of the girls, except one not
including me, wanted to pair with one particular guy, and the identity of that
person was not surprising. It seemed the
guy Angel had spoken to just a little bit ago was apparently the heartthrob of
this place, and that must have meant he also must have been single, judging by
everyone’s reaction. That was even more
interesting. 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. Now 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 that, 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.
“Lucky
for both of us.” That was unexpected. This guy was no dummy. “It could have been
worse. It’s good that we are paired
together.”
“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 that point and not
come off as a moron. It was even worse
that I didn’t have any witty or smart response.
I guessed that was just fine, since 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.”
“Oh.
I noticed even as I was trying to avoid it.
It was hard not to. Valerie
Robinson, but you can call me Val.”
“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.
That said a lot more about him than I thought 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. I heard this all the time at the mall. 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. You don’t know me, or how mean I can be.”
“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 that. 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 which was crap, but still cute.
“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, um, interesting.”
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.”
“Well,
let’s keep it that way for now.”
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 that 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 butt can’t cash.”
“We’ll
see. I have a pretty hefty bank account.”
This guy really had a lot of nerve. However, he wasn’t a bad guy. 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,
which when combined with being quite easy on the eyes, was a deadly
combination. Of course, I didn’t stop
his flirting. That only seemed to
encourage him, and I was glad when Mrs. Ross called time.
We
got right to our presentations, and they started 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 us with their
parent’s connections. Not really
impressive to me. I mean I knew nothing
about these people, except for one, and I’m sure the things that were revealed
had to have been known by everyone else.
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 really shouldn’t have complained. However, I did make an appeal to Mrs. Ross to
not give Bret any F’s so that 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, if I could say so myself, and not embarrassing in the
least, but as it turned out, embarrassing myself was the least of my
worries. Someone else was determined to
do that for me.
“I’d
like to introduce you to my future wife, Valerie Robinson.” Bret started.
He
was so going to get it. However, the class ate it up. He looked at me with a smile. I could do nothing but just smile back, and
I’m sure that Bret could see the evil that was behind it. He didn’t care.
“She
is an avid baseball fan, which is good for me, but I’m going to have to convert
her into being a Padre fan because right now she loves Chipper Jones and those
Braves.” The class laughed at this, and
I couldn’t help but join them.
“Actually, I’m just kidding, and she’s probably going to kill me after
this. I’ve asked her out three times and
she’s turned me down.” He was so full of
it. It was six times. “She’s actually a very good track
runner. As a matter of fact, she’s the
reigning state champ in the four hundred meters and was the anchor of San Diego
High’s state championship sixteen hundred meter relay team.”
I never told him
that. He was starting to scare me a
little bit. At least, he didn’t say
anything else that would surprise me.
When he was done, he strutted back towards his desk like the big man on
campus that he apparently was, looking quite smug in the process. I spent about a second dreaming of about
fifty different ways to slap that look off his face. I thought better of it, but it would have
been a great way to make a name for myself.
It also would have been a great way to get myself suspended on the first
day of school. That would have been even
more embarrassing than what I just went through. I was not sure that he was trying to be mean
with what he did. However, if he
actually thought that this was funny, then I could see why he was single. He would deserve it if I didn’t speak to him
again for the rest of the year, but I couldn’t stay mad at him. It was just impossible. That didn’t mean that I was going to let him
know that. I had other ideas.
I wasn’t going to
put those ideas in motion in the near future.
It seemed Mrs. Ross had other ideas also. Those ideas basically constituted one main
goal: to make our lives miserable for
the next eight months. She started out
by telling us how dreadful our presentations were. I didn’t know what this lady expected from
what little guidelines she actually gave us, but she had no business being
pissed off about the content of a one minute presentation with only five
minutes to prepare. It turned out,
however, that her main gripe was our horrible grammar. She had the opinion that ninety percent of
people write in exactly the same way they speak. If we didn’t use proper grammar when we
talk, we really could not expect to all of a sudden write perfectly. I wasn’t surprised by this. I had heard it many times. It was one of Mom’s favorite speeches. Yet, Mrs. Ross wasn’t going to have this
problem corrected by having us make more presentations. No, that would have made too much sense. She planned on giving us written punctuation
tests. Three for every different
punctuation mark. She did not divulge
into specifics about which punctuation marks we would be responsible for, but
the basic goal was for us to ace the first test, resulting in us not having to
take the other two. If we didn’t ace the
first, but aced the second, then we didn’t have to take the third. If we didn’t ace any of the three, the three
scores would be averaged out. In simple
terms, get a perfect score the first time to end the agony. We would also have a test every Friday, in
addition to the punctuation tests.
Anything that she mentioned in class was fair game on these tests, and
she wasn’t talking about just that present week either. The tests were all cumulative, or anything
that she went over in class starting now was testable on any given Friday from
now until June. That included
punctuation, lecture points, vocabulary, and literature that were assigned
reading. It was all fair game. This Friday’s test was going to be the only
test that was going have a chance of not being difficult. I couldn’t see the entire class’ reaction to
this, but it was easy to imagine what it would be.
“I don’t know why
you’re all looking so shocked,” she said.
“This is a college-preparatory senior English class. How do you think it’s going to be after you
have graduated? It’s not going to get any easier.” She probably said that every year.
Maybe that F I got
earlier actually was an omen of future grades, and I wouldn’t have to worry
about college. It got even worse. She then handed out these Vocabulary
Workshop books by Jerome Shostak, and I almost died. I thought I had escaped those god awful
Shostak books when we had moved. Those
books caused effigy in students everywhere.
Well, at least we didn’t have to do all the exercises inside the books,
or at least she wasn’t grading them, which was different then saying we didn’t
have to do them. We just had to make
sure we knew what the words meant, and it sounded a little too good to be
true. Those Shostak books were like math
and can’t be memorized without practice.
That didn’t mean that we were all going to actually do the work because
I was sure some of these people didn’t get the fact that this was a trap
designed to snare laziness. It wasn’t
genius, but it did make me like her a little.
The rest of the
class was uneventful and when it ended, I couldn’t get out of the room fast
enough. Literally, I couldn’t get out of
there fast enough, because Mr. Spencer decided to corner me at the door.
“Well, I had heard
the rumors,” he started. “But I didn’t
think it would be this bad.”
“You’re preaching
to the choir here. I knew even less than
you.” We walked into the hall, and he
made no attempt to go in any other direction than wherever I was heading. I wasn’t sure that made any logical sense,
since I didn’t have a clue of where I was supposed to be going. I continued. “I’m sure you can handle it,
with you trying to get into Harvard and all.”
“Too bad I’m not
going to Harvard.”
“Yeah, just like
I’m not your future wife, or your future anything for that matter.”
“Ok,
I’m sorry, but it was damn funny.” That
was an interesting way for this jackass to justify bad behavior. He then switched gears. “Where are we going anyway?”
“I’m
going to my locker. I don’t know where
you’re going.”
“Can
you even find it? I’ll go with you.”
“I
appreciate your confidence in my sense of direction. However, I’ve been to it once. I’m sure I can find it again.”
“What
about after that?”
He
was still smiling, the jerk.
“I’m
not going to get rid of you am I?” I asked defeated.
“Not
if I can help it. Besides, I help you;
you help me.”
“And
how am I supposed to do that?”
“I’m
sure you’ll figure something out.” He
paused, and then a female voice called his name. It was a voice he apparently recognized
because his facial cringe was noticeable.
I actually enjoyed it for a split second, but I recognized the voice,
and I felt his pain. It was kind of sad, since I’d
only heard the voice for a total of one minute in class.
“Well,
I don’t think that I’ll have to spend a lot of time trying to figure out how to
help you,” I said. He didn’t react
except to sigh, but we didn’t stop walking.
As a matter of fact, we moved right to my locker talking about what we
just went through in class. I’m pretty
sure he was hoping that if he just ignored her, she would go way. It was also apparent that he had dealt with
this girl enough to know that wasn’t happening, but for the sake of his own
sanity, he had to try anyway. He leaned
on the lockers to my immediate right not really saying anything of any
significance.
This
girl, whose name was actually Kendra Malloy, just walked up, stood between the
two of us, and totally interrupted our conservation. Properly excusing herself must not have been
taught as proper etiquette. To make
matters even worse, she didn’t even acknowledge my presence. This was a whole different level of taking
yourself too seriously. She was cute, I
guess, and on looks alone she would have been the type I would have expected
Bret to like. He wanted no part of
her. The look of pure hate on his face
couldn’t go unnoticed. However, she
didn’t notice, or she didn’t care-which was probably more accurate-because her
next course of action was seriously unwise.
I guess her dad was having some get together, or something, and her dad,
not her, wanted him to come. I must have
just met the first person who was stupid enough to believe that, and it wasn’t
Bret. His responses were priceless.
“No. I’m busy.”
“Come
on, Bret. What could you possibly be
doing that would be more important?”
“I
don’t know. I haven’t figured it out
yet. When I do, you can just hold your
breath and wait for me to call.”
Telling someone
that you are too busy washing your hair usually did the trick. This just seemed overly mean, yet totally
justified, considering who he was dealing with.
How does she get a guy, who clearly hates her, to do what she
wants? Just insult him. That was such a great plan, and it worked out
really well for her. I mean, the bitch
still hadn’t acknowledged my presence, and she wasn’t going to take a simple
no, or a really mean one, for an answer.
I, of course, had yet to say a word.
“Look,
Bret,” she continued. “Just hear me out.
The reason-“
“What
for?” he interrupted. “I just said no.”
“You’re
not going to be my date or anything. I
just want you to take a friend of mine.
You haven’t met her yet, but I’m sure you’ll like her.” That was real reason she was bringing up this
nonsense, and I didn’t understand why she would ask, or more like demand, him
to do anything of the sort. It was
beyond clear that he couldn’t stand her.
His body language said it all, and from the little bit that I’ve talked
to him; he didn’t exactly hold back any punches. There wasn’t any way in the world he would do
anything that she wanted him to do.
People aren’t usually going to do favors for people they can’t stand,
and they definitely were not going to let someone they hate set them up with
anyone. It’s common sense, and at first,
I didn’t think she was as dumb as she initially came off. I was starting to reassess that conclusion,
especially when she continued down the same path. “Come with me and I’ll introduce you.” She started to grab his arm and pull him
away, but he quickly moved out of the way.
“If
you hadn’t noticed, I was in the middle talking to someone.” Oh, I was sure that she noticed.
“I’m
disappointed in you, Bret. Being nice to
the new girl is so overrated.”
“Apparently,
so is having manners,” I retorted.
Staying quiet was no longer an option.
I couldn’t help myself, and it was not as if she didn’t deserve it.
Besides, doesn’t being disappointed mean that there was some kind of expectation? What could she possibly expect of Bret when
he’d made perfectly clear his hatred of her?
She looked at me like she was wiping me off the bottom of her shoe.
“Oh,
Please. You went to Roosevelt. What do you know about manners?”
“I
know enough to know that it’s rude for you to interrupt two people having a
conversation without excusing yourself.”
I wasn’t at all impressed by this harpy.
“My parents taught me that at home when I was two. That’s why it’s called Home Training, which,
after this performance, it’s obviously clear that you don’t possess any.”
Bret couldn’t do
anything but snicker. I never took my
eyes off her and kept a smile on my face, while she stood there fuming. I quietly waited for her next response, not
that I cared. However, I knew she did
care, and I immediately gained the upper hand by default. As a matter of fact, I automatically
won. It didn’t matter what she said, I
still won. Smart people never got into
arguments when they cared and the other person didn’t. The one who cared always lost. The person who cared always took it too
personally. Kendra could say whatever
she wanted. She could insult me as much
as she wanted, but the insults didn’t have any effect if I didn’t care. However, there was only so much that I was
going to be able to take, and I had come close to having quite enough. When that happened I would probably just take
her head and slam it into the lockers. That
would show her how Roosevelt High girls were.
However, Bret had
other ideas, and since this was basically his decision anyway, he could do
whatever he wanted. He put his left arm
around my shoulders, and then he look me in the eye with a look that basically
said to go with it. I was more than
happy go whatever way he wanted me to, even though I really wanted to slam this
bitch’s head into the locker. In a very
nice, but forceful, way he told her to find someone else. It was a lot better than she deserved. Then he rather smoothly led me away from
her. Oh, he was definitely a ladies’
man, even though he was snickering when we turned away. It wasn’t that funny.
“Home training?”
he asked when we were safely out of earshot.
“You don’t know
what that is?”
“Humor me and help
a white brother out.” Understandably, I
groaned at this, and he just laughed.
“Is she still back there?”
I
turned, looked and then said, “She’s gone, so you can move your arm now.”
He
complied and actually did it without making any kind of wisecracks, which was
welcome. We actually had a pretty nice
conversation afterwards. There wasn’t
any of his ridiculous flirting. He
wasn’t trying any of his outrageous tricks to prove that he’s funny, even
though he was more successful at being funny when he wasn’t trying. The more he talked, the more I was starting
to get the feeling that his whole macho player vibe he was giving off earlier
was all just an act, kind of like he was playing the part that he was expected
to play. Now that he wasn’t playing that
part, he was a lot more likable, not that he wasn’t likeable before. This was just considerably more
preferable.
We got to my next
class easily enough, and it turned out that his class was actually close
by. For a place that seemed so
confusing, it was funny how close everything seemed to be. When we got to the door, however, he took a
horrible step back.
“So,” he
started. “When am I going to get your
number?” I couldn’t tell whether he was
joking or serious.
“Have
you lost your damn mind?” My shock was
totally evident, as was my annoyance. “You
had to have because otherwise asking me that question was just stupid.”
“Oh
come on. You know you want to.”
“‘You
know you want to.’ What is this, some
kind of porno movie? Even if I wanted to
give you my number, you are seriously deluded if you thought I would actually
give it to you after that what you pulled in class.”
“But
wait –“
“Stop.” My interruption was as dramatic as it was
quick and hard. I even brought out the
“talk to the hand” bit minus the neck weaving.
No. Just no.” I then turned and
walked off, leaving him standing there.
It had to be done. I didn’t know
what I would have said to him had I stayed.
I went into class and quickly took a seat in the row closet to the door,
near the back of the room. I did that on
purpose so I didn’t have to look at him because I was still fuming. When the bell warning bell rang, I finally
looked up and he was gone, even though from where I was sitting I was sure that
he couldn’t see me from the angle where he would have been standing if he was
actually still there. I instantly tried
to buckle down. I was sure that he was
going to be the least of my worries.
***
The
other three classes before lunch went as expected. I didn’t get anymore unexpected, but needed,
help. The results were that I ended up
being late to the last two classes, both of which had me traveling from one
side of campus to the other and then back again. I could still smell that ocean breeze while
walking through the courtyard. Well,
they just called it a courtyard. There
wasn’t any grass that would constitute it to actually be a yard. It was all concrete. It was still great to actually be able to
walk outside without actually being accused of cutting class. It was a whole new experience that I
welcomed, even though I knew no one. I
was more than happy to stay out of the spotlight, and the last few classes made
that easy, since there wasn’t anyone that I knew in those classes.
After that fourth
class, Advance Biology, Angel was waiting for me to go to lunch. As we started to walk, I filled her in on the
details of what happened in English Class.
Her response was not encouraging.
She immediately started laughing.
Some friend she was supposed to be, and I let her know as much.
“What?” she
asked. “It’s funny. The only reason you don’t find it funny is
because he did to you.”
“But why would
he?” I protested. “It’s not like he knew…” I trailed off when a thought suddenly
occurred to me. “Angel, what exactly did
you tell him?”
“Not a whole
lot. I basically told him that I had met
you and that you had went to Roosevelt High before here. I didn’t tell him anything important.”
“He knew about the
state medals that I won last spring.
That doesn’t classify as not information.”
“That information
didn’t come from me. I only told him
your name and where you went to school. I didn’t know you had actually won
stuff. You never told me, which isn’t your fault. We never talked about it in detail, but it’s
not surprising he was able to figure out the rest. His sister, Brianne, graduated last year and
ran track for us. She was a pretty good
distance runner from what I understood.
Figuring that out would have been pretty easy from him. He was probably at the meet himself, since
his dad is good about making the two of them support each other.”
She sure had a
real quick explanation as to how he could have known. However, it did make sense, so I just dropped
it. I actually knew his sister, and had
talked to her many times this past spring at meets and the like. As I recalled, she was better than pretty
good. I went on telling her about the
whole with Kendra, and Bret and I last moment talking to each other. She cringed at the latter, and, for once, she
didn’t have a witty comeback or an explanation for his bad behavior.
“Yeah that was
pretty odious.” She seemed genuinely
confused. “That doesn’t seem at all like
him.” Then she changed the subject back
to Kendra. “It’s good to see that he’s
still holding his ground when it comes to her.”
Holding his ground
was kind of an understatement, considering that he clearly couldn’t stand
her. I told Angel as much. Her basic response was that considering that
Kendra was his ex, they broke up last spring, holding his ground was all Angel
really expected of Bret when it came to Kendra.
Basically the history of those two basically consisted of Kendra
treating him like a trophy while they were dating, and she very much treated
him like an object to his face. It
seemed that there was no love lost between Angel and Kendra either and, with
Caleb and Bret being best friends and Angel and Bret, having known each other
since the fifth grade, being good friends also, I correctly guessed there
wasn’t a lot of double dating going on.
According to Angel, Bret had really liked Kendra, at least at
first. Then, in the later stages of
their relationship-if you could call it a relationship, he really couldn’t
stand her, but stayed with her anyway to keep up pretenses. Did people actually do that in real
life? It seemed her dad really liked
him, and saw Bret as the perfect companion for his not so darling
daughter. That wasn’t fair to a guy who
hadn’t even finished his junior year of high school. Soon, Bret just hated her too much to even
keep up pretenses.
“I thought that
they were the most lopsided couple yet,” Angel finished. “They have two totally different
personalities”
I wasn’t so sure
their personalities were all that different, just that Kendra was a lot more
evil. “They both are full of
themselves. That’s one thing that they
have in common,” I said.
“But isn’t
everyone a little full of themselves.
Some are just more full of themselves than others.
“There is a big
difference between confidence and arrogance.”
“Good point. I’d take Bret’s brand of being full of
himself over the wannabe Mean Girl’s any day.”
“What
is with that anyway? It’s like she’s
trying to be that person, but can’t quite pull it off.”
“It’s
simple really. She has the looks and the
bad attitude to pull it off. The problem
is that she just too damn stupid to pull off Mean Girls type machinations. I think her problem is that she assumes
everyone else is stupider than she is.
It’s very easy to put her in her place, as you have found out.”
“It
was a little too easy, which takes all of the fun out of it.” We had made our way to the cafeteria, and it
was as one would expect. Everyone was
sitting in their respective groups. We
took a table near the window, and talked a little more about nothing in
particular.
After
about five minutes, I finally got to meet Caleb. It was about time, and it only took all of
about three months. He looked as I
might have expected him to look. He was
the total stereotypical jock. That would
be big, built, and well, that was basically it, big and built. There wasn’t anything really to set him apart
from any other guy in school. He wasn’t
ugly by any stretch of the imagination.
He just didn’t have sexy oozing out him like say Bret. Well at least he didn’t for me. Angel seemed to think so, which was all that
really mattered. However, something was
missing for me. I couldn’t put my finger
on it. It didn’t get any better once he
kissed Angel once he got to the table. The kissing didn’t seem romantic at
all. It was like he, or both of them,
was going through the motions. I found
it quite weird that those two had been dating for about three years, and not
once did he stop in to the mall to see her.
He never stopped by the store, or even came to the mall during her lunch
break. Still, what the hell did I
know? I was still single. Oh, and he had brought company.
“You
must be Val,” Caleb said. “You’re even
prettier than Bret said. I had to drag
him here to apologize for acting like a jackass earlier.” Ha! I
liked him already, even though he was speaking with a fake southern
accent. Prettier came out as “purtier”.
Wasn’t he born here? Maybe he was
auditioning for some role in a movie.
Why else would he want to purposely sound like a redneck? He was still going to have to work on that.
“Oh,
I’m over that.” I said. “Thank you anyway though.”
“Yeah,
when did you get over it?” Caleb asked.
“Right
after you said I was pretty.”
“Good,”
Bret piped in. “That must mean I’m in
the clear.”
“Not
so fast pretty boy,” I said. “You still
haven’t apologized.”
“I
thought you were over it,” Bret protested.
“I
am,” I said clearly having fun with this.
“That still doesn’t excuse you from actually apologizing. It just means that I’m more likely to accept
it.”
“Oh,
she’s a feisty one. Isn’t she, buddy?”
Caleb asked Bret.
“Why
are you talking like that?” That was the first words Angel said since the boys
showed up, and she was clearly irritated.
“The last time I checked, Beverly Hillbillies’ Day was not a part of
Spirit Week. Even if it was, that’s over
a month away, so stop it. You sound like
a moron.” Caleb looked like chastised
kid in that instance.
“Yeah. She’s feisty,” Bret said to Caleb. “That is one of the things like about her.”
Bret said.
“Shove
it, mister,” I said. “And I’m still
waiting for that apology.”
It
was hilarious watching these two jocks look like scolded grade school
kids. I crossed my arms and looked at
Bret. I can play the “Shanay-nay” role,
also known as the Shaniqua-Laquita role, when it was appropriate. It was rare and really not attractive, but it
sometimes works. The problem was in this
particular instance I couldn’t do it without laughing. The whole table cracked up, but at least he
did apologize, and it appeared to be sincere.
He still wasn’t getting my number.
The
rest of lunch went mostly as that conversation between the four of us, and it
would have been a lot more enjoyable if Bret wasn’t smiling at me all the
time. He was like a little kid or he
would have been if there was any indication that his flirting was not some kind
of sick joke. It was the only thing that
annoyed me about it all. He was doing it
to be funny, and he didn’t know me well enough to do that. Of course, if he really wasn’t serious than
it really shouldn’t matter. However, he
was in my head, and that was probably what bothered me the most. Maybe, that was his intention. It was definitely something that I was going
to have to do something about.
When
lunch was over, Angel and I made our way to Calculus, which was my last class
of the day. Aw, the good part of being a
senior was getting most of the required classes out of the way the last three
years.
“I
think he likes you,” she said.
“What?
Who?”
“Who
else would be I be talking about?” Angel asked.
Two guys were there. Of course if
she was talking about Caleb, then she would have problems.
“Don’t
be stupid. He was just joking around.”
“I’m
sure he wasn’t.”
“Really? It sounded like joking to me. He was laughing too much, and it made it
difficult to take him seriously.”
“Believe
me. I’ve known him a longer than you,”
she said. “He acted the same when he was
first with Kendra.”
“Well
now I can understand why she treated him like she did. It is irritating. I continued, “But look how that turned
out. He hates her now.” Why did I even care?
“Kendra
and you are no where nearly the same person.”
“I
would hope not. I couldn’t fathom being
as stupid as she is.” Angel laughed at
that. “I don’t even think that I would
be the type of girl that he likes.”
“Oh,
now I see,” Angel answered. “It’s not
that you don’t think he actually likes you, which by the way is wrong. It’s that you don’t think he would like a
person like you.”
“What
is the difference?”
“Well
if he did like you, you would kind of be missing out. You’re not giving him a chance because you
don’t think he would like you.”
“You
know. You never asked me how I feel
about him.
“Does
it matter?” she asked. “You don’t think
you’re his type so why does it matter if you like him or not.” She paused.
“Do you?”
“Do
I what?”
“Oh
quit stalling,” she said. “You know what
I’m talking about.”
“Well….”
“Oh
you do. That is so awesome.”
“I
wouldn’t say that. He does have
potential though. If he stopped acting
like a jackass, then, who knows?”
“You’re
full of it.” She stopped and looked
directly at me. “If you didn’t like him,
you wouldn’t be worried about it so much.”
“Maybe,
it could just be that it’s annoying.”
“I’m
still not buying it.”
“Okay,” I said defeated. Angel can be really stubborn when she wants
to be. “Even if I did like him, can you
imagine what my mom would say if I brought him home?”
“What would she be so mad
about?” Angel asked.
“Isn’t
it obvious?”
“No.”
“Oh
please, you’re not that stupid,” I said.
“How about bringing a white boy home?”
“You
don’t have a lot of choices in the quality black guy department to choose from
here, or any black guys at all for that matter.”
“I
don’t think that is going to make much of a difference,” I said. “She would probably rather I didn’t date at
all.”
“Why
would she be so upset? She works in a
place full of white people, and this isn’t exactly the nineteen sixties. It’s the twenty-first century.”
“Things
are all ways different when a person’s kids are involved. She might not mind interracial dating when other
people do it. Me? Not so much.”
“That
would mean that she actually does mind it.”
“Whatever.” I changed the subject. “What is with this school and the baseball
team?”
“What
do you mean?”
“Well,”
I started. “Why are guys on the baseball
team the studs of the school? I mean
it’s usually the football and basketball teams that are supposed to be the cool
guys.”
“You
obviously haven’t seen our basketball team,” Angel pointed out. “They are just dreadful. They make Woody Harrelson look like Kobe
Bryant.”
“Dreadful? Channeling Simon Cowell, are we?” I quipped.
“What kind of cheerleader are you supposed to be?”
“Don’t
change the subject.” Angel was really
good at keeping the conversation where she wanted it. We entered class together and sat next each
other in the center of the room. “We’re
talking about you and Bret.”
“I
don’t think the words ‘you and Bret’ belong together in the same sentence.”
Angel
was not impressed. “Whatever. Try and resist all you want. You won’t last past a week. He likes you, and he’s not going to give up
easily.”
“He
doesn’t like me. Stop it,” I said as the
bell rang starting class.
“Deny
it all you want. He likes you, and at a
minimum, you are intrigued by him.”
I
didn’t get a chance to answer that. The
teacher came in and started class. Angel
was right. He did intrigue me. Then again, a lot of people intrigued me, so
it really didn’t matter. I had other
things to worry about at that moment, and the last thing I wanted to worry
about was some crazy white boy chasing me around school while I was in arguably
my hardest class. We both ended our
conversation and dug in to advanced math.