I read a poem once (can’t remember who made it) about a boy, or maybe it was girl, who lost their memories and dedicated every single minute of every single day trying to regain those memories. Maybe they did or maybe they didn’t, I can’t remember for it was many years ago. But I remember, holding that piece of paper in my hands and thinking: how stupid was that person? Could that person not realize that they were given a chance, a new leaf, a new page, an opportunity! Although I also think that the past may one day catch up with him or her, yet at that time I only thought of that person as a fool who closed their eyes to beauty.
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My eyes stare blankly at the rushing scenery through the window of the bus. I don’t understand why I do it; it’s the same scenery that I’ve seen every morning and afternoon since riding this vehicle. Yet here I am, unable to tear my gaze from the repetitive sight. Perhaps it’s just human nature to follow a cycle; however, this cycle makes me want to slit my throat and die! I feel so caged, so chained, so fucking limited in this world! By now I can tell time without having a watch; things happen that are repeated at a certain time, which my brain has recognized.
Seven o four. The bus stops at the annex to drop freshmen off. Seven o six. The freshmen are allowed to be off the bus and we make our way to school. Then at seven twelve we’re at the main building and allowed to go inside at seven fifteen. After that, at seven thirty a bell rings to remind students to be inside the school. Between that and seven forty, students have the time to do whatever they want. When the seven forty bell rings students have five minutes to get to class. It’s a cycle.
Camille waves at me as I step off the bus and I wave back. My eyes scan the surroundings, zoning in on that small corner with my friends. Kaitlyn’s not there, so it’s probably an A day. I look down on my watch as I move forward seeing that the date is a Thursday; I have poetry club today. Hopefully, daddy remembers I need to be picked up.
“Hey Q,” Suzy greets, gazing into my eyes. “Did you do the homework on chapter 12?”
“Which one?” I ask bouncing slightly on my toes to keep warmth circulating through my body. “Vocab or outline?”
She taps her chin in thought. “mmm...outline.” she replies. “I’ve done most of it, except the last one. I couldn’t find anything about it. So can I see it?”
“Sure,” I reply walking inside the school as the teachers open the door. “I’m going to library.”
“I have to go to my locker first.” She tells me. “I’ll see you there.” and we part only to meet again at the library.
After the time in the library my day was spent with me staring at the board and taking down notes. I wanted to go to club faster, but time seems to move slower at times like these. Finally at two twenty-five the bell rings and I rush out of class.
The hallways are filled with chattering students and I fight my way against the tide of people. They were eager to get out, while I wanted to stay. My nose crinkled as I went past a particular person as the smell of sweat waifs through my nose. Do these people not know what soap is? Then another thought went in my head which I shook off vehemently. I know this place is disgusting, but please let me keep a hope that people have some decency.
Passing the breezeway I notice that mass of people slowly dwindled down to single digits. It didn’t matter though as I had poetry club matters to attend to. My smile widened as I spotted room twenty three just lurking beyond the corner. Poetry normally starts at three so hardly anyone would be in there. This thought had me slowing my steps to take some more time, but I really do want to start poetry now.
When I entered the room my eyes took note of a tall african-american boy. He stood to one side both hands in his pockets swaying side to side and it brought a smile to my face.
“Hey Silky!” I called to him. He turned to me, giving a smile and a hug. Kyle reminded me of that little worm from Teen Titans that Starfire was so obsessed with, hence the name Silky.
“Hi Q.” he greets and allows me to find a seat to put my belongings down. As I put down my things a cold shiver ran down my spine. This always happened when--no!
I quickly turn around to see a different person standing before me, no it is the same; however, this man (yes, man) was not what I am used to. Kyle no longer stood awkwardly, he stood tall and straight with a dangerous aura swirling around him. His eyes no longer held a soft expression; it was exchanged with eyes of a war veteran that knew of pain and suffering and blood.
“Have you still not considered the offer?” This new Kyle asked raising a brow at me.
I clench my teeth. “It was never an offer.” I spat glaring at the person I was facing. He remained calm as though he was not affected by the venom of my words.
“Then why have you not answered?” He retorts. I waver slightly at the staring down of his and I bite my lip when I see him smirk. He noticed my momentary submission.
“Because I already gave my answer.” I reply turning my back on him, this should make up for my momentary weakness. “It’s not my fault that you did not receive it properly.” Silence wrapped around us like a wool blanket threatening to suffocate me.
“You are a lot like him, Q. Yes, very much alike.” I swivel to face him, rage clear in my eyes.
“I am not and will never be anything like that good for nothing bastard!” I hiss vainly trying to incite fear within his body, but he merely raises another brow at me. How dare he! How dare he make a mockery of me! To compare me to such a low life. How low did he go. I took a step back, clenched my fist, and--
“Hey everybody!” My fist would have connected with Kyle’s jaw if Imara had not walked in. Immediately the mood changed from ominous to joyful.
“Hola Imara.” I greet her gluing a fake smile on my face, the previous talk had me riled up and I couldn’t let this prevent me from living my life. She smiles widely giving me a hug and then Kyle, who had changed back to that awkward one I knew. After the hug she moved on to Kyle, it looked like she crushed him though. From above Imara’s shoulder, his eyes and mine met a clear message written in them: we’ll talk some more. I glared and sat on my seat. Minutes later, two african women walk in. It was Mary and Jojo.
“Mary! Jelly!” Imara greets happily as she skips to the two girls. I smile at her antics and made my way to Mary.
“Konnichiwa Jojo,” I say hugging her. “Heya Mary.” I greet as well giving her the customary hug.
“We’ll talk later.” She whispers in my ear as I hug her. The smile on my face is frozen and I lock eyes with Kyle. I forgot, they knew all about it. Sighing I went back to my seat and watched as more poetry club members trickled in giving hugs to everyone. They could all give happy smiles, and pretend to be depressed, but they know nothing. Absolutely nothing, compared to what I go through.
Poetry club ended with a happy poem and jokes passed around. People left one by one, then two by two, and eventually, it was down to me, Kyle, Mary, and Jojo. They were all smiling at me preserving the happy mood.
“I have no intention of joining.” I state looking everyone in the eye. “And I have no intention of having Z join.” then I shouldered my bags and got ready to leave.
“Z has his own mind,” I hear Mary say, but I don’t turn. “let him make his own choice.” I freeze in the doorway, grit my teeth, and leave. We are done with the past.
The walk back home was cold, slow, mortifying; I hate the cold weather. Taking my keys from my pocket I unlocked the door. Z greets me as soon as I come in.
“Dad forgot?” he asks shivering slightly as the door opens to make way for me.
I snort, “You think? Where is he anyway?” he smiles at me telling me through his eyes to follow him, and I do. We walk past the living room, where I put my bags down, and into the kitchen. There I see my dad in front of the stove whistling to Chuck Berry.
“Hi dad,” I greet loudly, feeling a vein pop from my forehead.
“Oh hey Q! How was your--” He turns and looks at me, his smile slowly disappearing from his face. “You had club today didn’t you?”
I nod; I’m too exhausted to even get mad at him, so I just get a plate, put rice on, and find some meat to eat it with. Z laughs at me in background. He really has no right to do so, but I guess the situation called for a joke. My mom had come in at one point and scolded my dad, who just smiled. Indeed, life was good.
“I take it they said something.” Z asked leaning against the door frame of my room. I don’t bother to look up from the book I was reading. He sighs and I hear footsteps getting closer. “What exactly did they tell you?”
“Father.” I told him simply, flipping a page on the book I was reading. The bed dips slightly causing me to look up. Z had sat at the foot, his dark hair covering his eyes. Hardly have I ever seen Z in a defeated position. What in the world made him look so down?
He sighs but says nothing and the rest of the night was spent like that. Yes, we slept in the same room. Our “family” isn’t rich and we have a boarder so we slept in the same room. Makes more room for the boarder. In the darkness of my room surrounded by the light snores of the people in my house I find myself merely staring at the ceiling. Even the black darkness couldn’t wipe away the red from my vision. The past did not want to be buried.
Morning came early while sleep never came. I stayed staring at the pillow in my arms, unmoving. Downstairs I could hear the shuffling feet of my dad preparing breakfast. Next to me, I could hear the soft snores of my brother. It wasn’t time to wake up and I don’t want to go to school. They’d be there to remind me of everything. Things that I left there. An image of a man with large thick rimmed glasses popped up in my head. I growl as the image “smiles” at me then it turns its back walking away. The image slowly decreases in size and my vision is tinted red.
A hand comes down harshly to my comforter covered face. I splutter and yank the covers off my body, glaring at my brother who stood before me, a scowl etched into his face.
“Your breathing woke me up.” He said simply after I had growled at him.
“And your presence kept me up.” I bit back flinging the covers from my body and flinching. Dear God, was it cold.
Z snickered behind me and followed downstairs. Dad smiled as he saw us come down and even told us to sit. We waited until the food was done and dug in to the steaming hot plate of food. After that I proceeded to do my morning rituals and get ready for school. Z doesn’t go to school, after all, he has to watch our “parents.” We can’t afford to let them know about us. If they do, all hell would break lose.
“God isn’t fair Q.” Z says to me as I walk out the door.
I scoff at him, adjusting the bag on my shoulders. “What God? Our only God is that bastard who threw us away. Remember?”