The Search

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 There are errors, but other than that hope you enjoy.

The Search

 “Ok, next class, we will be presenting our spoken word pieces. Be prepared if it is not here, your loss. There will be no excuses, if you don’t have your work for whatever reason, it will be an automatic zero,” Mr. Waldwick said flatly. He looked up at the clock that sat above the chalkboard. He sighed.

“The bell is about to ring so pack up your things, DON’T LEAVE,” he firmly said. The people who started to leave abruptly sat back down. Mr. Waldwick was a scary looking guy; he had eyes that were a deep blue. When he looked at you you believed you would die. I was already packed up and ready to leave. I wanted to go home and I wanted the day to be over.

The bell rang and the kids scurried out the door. I looked over at Mr. Waldwick as he sat at his desk looking completely bored. I walked out of the classroom. I had a bus to catch. I slithered through the crowd, pushing my way through. I was about a whole foot taller than half the kids who attended Bayview High, not including my bush of hair. I was the second tallest kid in the school next to a Grade 12 boy who was 6’6. I’m in Grade 11 and 6’3, not far behind. I shoved and pushed my way through giving out many “I’m sorry” and “my bads”.


“Carlos!” I heard a female voice scream, it was my friend Lucille. I didn’t want to talk to her, not now. She grabbed my arm.

“Are we still going to the movies today?” she asked, when she caught my attention.

“Sorry, I’m not  ...” I started. She stopped me midway, putting her finger on my lip.

“Calm down, its fine,” she said removing her finger.

“Mom’s making us all go out to dinner to celebrate Father’s Day and quite frankly, I don’t want to go …” She babbled on and on. Could she just think about me for once? It’s always about her and what’s going on with her. She knew full well not to bring that up. I hated this day, the one that came around every year. The date television made such a big deal about. Father’s Day!

“Look Lucille …,” I interrupted her. Lucille stopped talking; her big, fairly large eyes that stared back at me.

“I have to go …,” I continued. I was hoping her face would show some sort of remorse but it didn’t, it stayed the same.

“Umm … I’ll talk to you later I guess,” with that she ran off, her tiny figure fading.

The bus stop wasn’t too far from where I was. I walked over to the bus stop; the bus came a few minutes after. I got a seat to the very front next to an elderly lady with her cart filled with No Frills bags. As the bus began to move, billboards with Father’s Day advertisements began to show up. I looked away as I let my gaze go elsewhere, but wherever I turned … there another Father’s Day poster was.  I slumped down in my seat, put my head sets in, turned on my music and let it take over. Forget a Father and forget this day.

Finally, after a twenty minute bus ride I came to my spot, it was pitch black outside and it was only quarter after five. In my neighborhood, it wasn’t safe to be out after dark. I quickly walked past the many homes; the Mason’s were on their porch, inappropriately dressed for the cool weather coming upon us. They wore shorts, t-shirts and tank tops. I finally reached my house, the porch lights were on and mom’s car was in the driveway. I pulled the keys out of my track pants pocket. I opened the door inhaling the smell of cooked food on the stove.

“I’m home, mom!” I yelled as I hung up my sweater.

“Hey Babe,” I heard her thick Trinidadian accent from the living room. I walked over to where she was, removing my shoes before walking on the carpet. She sat on the couch, her eyes glued to the television. I sneaked a kiss on her cheek. I looked up at the television; it showed a woman working in the fields.

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