•͟U͟N͟D͟E͟R͟S͟T͟A͟N͟D͟ ͟c͟a͟r͟t͟i͟u͟z͟i͟•͟

VII

House of Balloons/Glass Table Girls -The Weeknd

JORDAN:

FRIDAY:

Lithia Springs High School: Mableton, Georgia

The week moved just as smoothly as the previous week, and the build-up to Friday night actually began to make me excited. Out of all days though, Friday made me the most impatient.

Although severely underpaid by the Atlanta City School System, the students at Lithia Springs sure as hell were proud of their school's football team. Everyone you saw was either wearing some sort of jersey or shirt with our mascot, the Lithia Springs Lions, embedded upon the shirt. It kinda made me feel indifferent for not owning any sort of Lithia Springs merch, but whatever.

Caleb and I pulled up in his late 90's Cadillac, which the white folks consider a grandma car, but in Lithia Springs, was seen as a hella baller-type car, as strange as it sounds. The thing was almost scraping the asphalt it was so low, and it had these dope-ass tinted windows that made it look like a car that some hood hitman would drive.

"You excited for tonight?" Caleb asked me, releasing the keys from the ignition slot. "I don't know, I assume so."

Caleb blew my "concern" off, "Cuz, you'll be fine. In fact, I feel you'll enjoy it." I shrugged my shoulders, opening the passenger door. I stepped out of the Cadillac to a shock. Right in front of me, a silver Acura Legend slammed on its brakes, stopping it from not only hitting the open passenger-side door, but also myself.

The car shook as it stopped, and the driver-side door opened nearly immediately. "Damn, you oughta watch where you walking!" Out stepped Symere, opening his arms for a hug, which I nearly lifted him into. He was such a huggable person, probably due to him being short as hell. Probably.

Caleb walked around the back of the car, lifting the trunk while telling Symere, "Watch where Jordan walks? Watch how fast you driving in a motherfuckin' parking lot, Sy." Symere blushed, "Hey Caleb, and sorry bro."

"Shit, it's all good," Caleb replied, dapping Symere up, "just watch where the fuck you goin'." A loud noise approached the Cadillac and Acura. Up pulled a Nissan, that looked straight out of Initial D. It easily had a custom-tuned exhaust, due to the loud turbo chargers. Behind the Nissan followed a black Toyota 4Runner, parking right next to the Nissan.

Symere seemed to visibly roll his eyes as someone hopped out of the Nissan. "Sonnnnnnnnnn, who'd you hit?" said a tall guy. "Calm down, ain't nobody get run over." Symere reasoned with him.

"My son hit someone?" a girl walking around from the 4Runner asked, "Do we need driver's education again, Little SySy?"

"Amalaaaaaaa," Symere whined, walking over to give her a hug, "I didn't hit anyone, calm down." She hugged his head, smiling. I was confused; they were referring to them as his son, but they literally looked the exact same age as us, albeit taller. Symere turned around and seemed to notice my confusion.

"Oh!" he quickly said, grabbing my arm and pulling me over to the two other people. "Rakim, Amala, the is Jordan; he's from North Carolina." Symere informed them. I waved my hand hello, with Rakim responding, "Hello there, Jordan. I'm Rakim, Symere's father." He looked over to Amala, who continued with, "And I'm Amala, his mother."