STEVEN JERAL HARRIS
EMERALD BLUE OKIKI
The Blaire’s Confrontation.
A moment pass and he exhales, and then places his fork on the plate with a clatter. Before he continues he takes his time to recuperate from the last story. I can see the frustration in his face, as if it just happened. I can’t imagine the frustration he felt during that specific time. I can only imagine.
“And his father, Cornelius, got angry at me when I questioned him about his son’s behavior. To make a long story short I told my partner to take my gun. As God is my witness, I wouldn’t be here right now. I would be in jail for murder. I kid you not. I would have shot that son of a bitch. He threatened to kill me in front of the department and got away with it.”
“Unbelievable,” the shock in my mother’s voice is still fresh.
“Believe it. The moral of this story is, if you have money, you can do whatever you want. People are judged by how much tax they pay each year. If you pay Uncle Sam enough, you can buy your way outta anything. Don’t ever talk to them Iva. Case closed.”
He buries his face into his hands, only to remove them a couple seconds later, revealing a half-hearted smile.
“Sorry I ruined your dinner time guys. I’m just ranting.”
“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. At least you got that off your chest,” my mom tells him with an awkward smile on her face.
I manage to finish the last bite but it goes down hard. As we finish eating at the table an awkward silence overcomes us. I’ve never seen Uncle Frank so angry. It’s disturbing to see someone who is usually happy in such a down mood. Shortly he says his goodbyes and leaves the house.
Before I fall asleep, I think about Uncle Frank and the anger he has for the Blaire family. Now I know why no one likes them. Hopefully I can avoid them in school. The last thing I ever want to do is run into one of them again…
I start my day normally without worrying about coming face to face with the Blaires again. Computer Science with Professor Kelly, room 101, is my first class today. The classroom is filled with black monitors and long tables. I’m the first to enter class and greet this short woman with straight dark hair, red lipstick, and big round glasses. Five minutes later the class begins.
My next class is immediately after, Social Studies with Professor Patterson, room 245. It’s a long walk across the campus but I manage to make it on time. A short old man with a goatee greets me at the door. This class is unimaginable torture. The professor speaks so slow and lifeless, it makes the class seem much longer than an hour.
After Social Studies class, I head over to the student lounge for some me-time. As I’m finishing a slice of pizza, I can’t help but notice two nerdy boys with massive acne arguing in a corner. One of the guys is wearing a black shirt with that black lion’s face on it.
“Dude, Mane’s real. I’m telling you,” the guy with the black shirt rants.
“All I’m saying is, where’s your proof?” the other guy counters.
“I showed you,” the one with the black Mane shirt replies.
“Oh, yeah, a random paw print and a picture that could’ve easily been photo shopped. Good job dipshit.”
“Wow, this is coming from a guy who believes in Bigfoot?”
“Bigfoot is real,” he tells him boldly.
“What makes your evidence more substantial?”
“Footprints are more substantial than paw prints.”
The boy with the black shirt just shakes his head in frustration as he gathers his belongings.
“You can easily fake a guy in a gorilla suit, my friend. Try faking a man in a lion suit. Not likely.”
They both wander off together. Their useless debating continues out of the student lounge and slowly fades down the hallway.
Shortly after, it’s time to find my last class for the day, General Biology. I have to give out a couple of apologizes as I rush to class. I should’ve seen this one coming, but I’m too much in a hurry to avoid it.
“I’m so sorry, I truly am,” I say as I bump into this girl while I turn a corner, knocking her notebook and papers from her hands.
I freeze where I stand, and I think my heart did too. I’m staring into the eyes of a pale blonde girl. Her face is expressionless. Next to her is Kendrick. This girl must be his sister, Arlene.
“Hi, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to run into you,” I say with a shaky voice.
Using only her eyes, she scans my shoes and shifts up to my head, unblinking.
“What’s your name?” she says in a soft void voice.
“Iva.” I reply timidly.
“Are you going to pick my stuff up Iva?”
My heart drops to my stomach the more she speaks to me. My blood is pumping in my body so hard right now that I’m starting to sweat. I kneel down to the floor, pick up her notebook and papers, and then neatly stack them together. Her eyes follow me to the floor and when I rise, but her body remains statue-like.
“Sorry again,” I say uneasily.
Slowly but surely she takes the notebook from my hands without blinking once. She tucks her notebook under her arm with those wide soulless eyes gazing into mine. This is torture. I don’t know why. I’ll admit it, I’m very intimidated by her. It’s like I’m shrinking the more she stares at me with those eyes, and it’s like she’s constantly growing and growing.
“Iva,” she calls my name in a blank tone. “If you touch me like that again, your parents will have to use a shovel to remove your face from the floor. I’m talking about full on plastic surgery on your ass. Got it bitch?”
“Yes, it won’t happen again,” I say holding my notebook tightly with a sweaty grip.
I look at Kendrick and I realize his face is just as lifeless as hers. Then he walks toward me slowly.
Automatically, as he gets closer to me, I back away from him until my back hits a wall. I grip my notebook even tighter with my palms sweating.
...to be continued
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