To Pimp A Caterpillar [COMPLETED]

Chapter One

A smile came across her face as the bell went off and Ms Chopra excused the class. We grabbed our stuff and headed towards the door.

Once in the hallway, I turned to Gabi, "Where you going and why you wanna look cute?" I asked tryna wiggle my eyebrows.

"Bitch, would you stop being weird?", she chuckled, "My momma and I are picking up my stepbrother from the airport. He's gonna live with us for a while till his mom get back in the country. Didn't I tell you this already?" she asked.

"Uhhhm, nope. I don't think so. Maybe you did but I forgot." I shrugged as we entered Mr Reynolds' room.

We are now in of our Maths class and I go full on nerd mode here. Don't judge me.

"Of cause! Goldfish memory." she face palmed herself. And she says I'm the weirdo? Riiight...

"Shut up! I chuckled as I made my way towards the back of the class. I love Maths but I ain't tryna answer no questions.

I might be weird but I ain't stupid *scoff*.

***

The rest of the period went pretty smoothly and I was on my way to Mrs Brown's class. It was now after school and I usually go off to Mrs B's room to fool around with the piano with the piano.

Oh yeah I plays the piano alright. I also sing and write sometimes.

I knocked on the door and entered to find one of my favourite teachers sitting by the window gazing out at the football field. Mrs. Brown lost her son to leukemia 3 years ago in ninth grade.

Wade and I used to chat here and there and he was a major football fanatic.

Ever since his passing, Mrs Brown can be found sitting there just staring out.

When she realised that I'd entered the room she turned to me with glazed eyes, "Ahh, the Queen!" she exaggerated hopping off of the desk and walking towards the studio piano on the other side of the room, patting the stool for me to come forth.

"Do you always have to say that Mrs B?" I chuckled walking towards her.

She laughed out loud and said' "I might as well. You are the real Sasha Fierce."

I laughed at her poor joke.

"Me? Fierce? Oil and water right there, Mrs B." I joked sitting on the stool and placing my bag next to me on the floor.

"Do you ever just accept compliments?" she asked with a tilt of her head. I shrugged and prepared myself to play Le cygne.

She sighed and took a seat on a small stool. She likes seating in on my 'sessions' and give me pointers.

"Well, I'll keep telling you this cause obviously you don't get compliments too often." she said folding her arms, leaning back on the wall with her eyes closed as my fingers glided across the keys they knew too well.

***

Walking home from the bus stop, I was thinking of the call I'd received from my dad last night.  He was flying in from New York next week.

My mom moved to Houston years ago and met my dad. They started daring *gag* and 3 years later they had me.

Maurice was, and still is, triffling so 2 months after my birth, my momma left his ass and I ended up living with her, my 21 year old schizophrenic brother and 5 year old sister.

My momma is a social worker and has done pretty well for herself owning 2 cars, a home and raising 3 kids on her own. I love that woman.

My dad supports us here and there. He's not exactly a deadbeat. He stays in contact and sends money when he manages to keep a job for more than a day. Nigga's a piece of work.

So now I was heading inside the house. I walked in and was greeted by an array of aromas.

My mom rarely cooks since I learnt how so this was a major relief.

I ran off to my room, throwing my back on the floor and kicking my shoes off.

I then went in search of the love of my life.

"Hey, Momma!" I cheesed as I made my way into the kitchen and sitting on a stool at the island.

My mom is in her early 40s, buh a very 20-year-old typa 40.

She has an afro but was rocking a Senegalese twist now which she had put in a ponytail. She had on a cute shirt, blue denim jeans and flip flops.

See, if anyone was to ask me where I got this body from it has to be my mom. This woman is thick as fuck!

"Hey baby! How wad school?" she asked as she turned away from the stove, wiping her hands off on a cloth.

I groaned in response. I love Langston High but it's exhausting.

"School was school. It was okay." I told her. I wasn't about to tell her about the headache 'cause she'd start yelling over how I should have called her.

I swear she treats me like a kid sometimes. She be working herself up over little shit.

"Okay. Bernice is over at Yolanda's by the way. Could you go check if Brandon's still busy with his sketches? Tell him to come down in an hour." she instructed placing a lid over a pot of what I guess was lamb curry from the rich aroma.

I nodded and hopped off the stool, washing up abowl of grapes and heading down the hall towards my brother's room.

My brother is a great sketch artist. That nigga can draw for days.

He became schizo when  he started experimenting with drugs when he was 15. By 16 he had started hallucinating and punching walls and mirrors. Just being destructive.

My momma had already sent him to multiple rehabs before and now there was not much she could do. The damage was done.

I knocked softly on his door and waited for him to confirm. He did and I entered and closed the door behind me. He was sitting at the window with his sketch pad and pencils.

Brandon does sketches for a childhood friend of his, DeShawn, who uses them for his clients at the advertising agency he works for.

Brandon gets paid for the sketches a piece.

"Hey. Momma wants to know if you're done with your sketches 'cause dinner'll be ready in an hour." I said as I walked over to his desk and sat down.

"Tell Mom I'm almost done. I'll come down for dinner." he said all the while sketching.

"What are sketching now?" I asked, lopling a grape in my mouth. He was silent for a long while before answered without looking up, "It's a cartoon character. Superhero."

"Cool. Can come back and chill with you? Like old times." I pouted. I was taking a chance over here. He looked over at me and chuckled lightly before nodding.

I squealed and ran off to tell my mom then I made my way back to his room.

This time he'd put on some Bob Marley and I felt like crying. He remembers! He smiled up at me, "Like old times."

A tear escaped my eyes and he walked over to me.

"I'm still your Donny, Twinkle."

Started bawling right then. I really missed my brother I'de never really  accepted his illness.

Being in his arms with the soulful reggae melodies, I'd felt pure bliss.

***
A/N: Well, what do you guys think? I have a schizo bro so I guess Brandon would be dedicated to him in some way or another...