•͟U͟N͟D͟E͟R͟S͟T͟A͟N͟D͟ ͟c͟a͟r͟t͟i͟u͟z͟i͟•͟

IV

MICKEY -Lil Yachty/Lil Baby/Offset

SYMERE:

TWO MINUTES EARLIER:

Lithia Springs High School: Mableton, Georgia

What was the fight over? Both of the usual fight topics: drugs, and affairs. Understandable to be upset about, but to fight over it? Come on, we live in a civilized world! Can't people just talk this over? Well, wait. I retract my statement from earlier: Atlanta is about as uncivilized as one can get in the developed world. Yes, Chicago, we're worse.

These two individuals chose not use their words, but rather their fists instead. I sat and watched for a bit, thinking to myself, "Well, this will be interesting..."

But then, shit got real when administrators showed up, grabbing anyone they saw spectating the event. Said actions caused a stampede to run the opposite way, towards the parking lot; I was a part of the stampede. Everything was going fine at first, aside from a few small shoves and pushes, but then some dumb ass started to walk in the middle of the fucking hallway, causing me to run straight into him, and not only cause myself to fall on my face, but him as well.

"Aye, what the fuck man?" I shouted, picking myself up, "Don't you see anyone else in the damn hallway?"

"Sorry, bro, today's my first day." He replied, standing up. Once he stood up entirely, I realized who he was: he was the person who was sitting with Caleb and Travis at lunch; the one I had been eyeing. I felt so guilty for yelling.

"Oh, my bad bro," I replied, looking at my feet, "didn't mean to go all apeshit on you."

"Nah I get it, we all have those moments sometimes," He said laughing, "you're Symere, right?" My heart nearly skipped a beat, "How did he know my name?" I thought.

"Yeahhhhh," I stammered, "and you are?"

"Jordan," he said, "Jordan Carter; I just moved from North Carolina."

"Ahhhh, I got ya," I responded, "I get the struggle of moving."

"Oh really," he inquired, "Where are you from?" I explained my origin point of urbanized Pennsylvania to him, without going into too much detail over why Momma and I ended up in Atlanta. He seemed to understand, and I could tell he was an excellent listener, just based on the intense, sometimes uncomfortable, eye contact he kept with me.

I started to walk away, asking, "Your name was Jordan, right?" He nodded his head, waving goodbye. I waved back.

As I walked through the parking lot towards my car, I began to blush inside my mind.
"He seemed so sweet," I began to think, "and so cute, even if I had to look up to talk to him." I approached my car to see Rakim once again sitting in his Nissan, with the windows down, blasting 90s hip hop. Once he saw me, he shot up through his sunroof, something I'd never seen him do before.

"What'd you see," I asked, laughing, "Amala with another man?" He flicked me off as I opened my driver's side door, flinging my backpack into the passenger seat. "Nah man, I was just wondering if you saw that wild fight I've already been hearing about." Rakim questioned.

"Damn, news already spreads that fast?" I joked, in genuine shock, "Shit didn't even go down more than ten minutes ago." Rakim nodded his head in agreement, pulling up a video on his phone to show me. Sure enough, there was the two people from earlier, fighting over their stupid-ass issues.