STAGE: Dallas County Cougars Middle School
TIME: 4:25 PM
Kieren’s Memory Bank: Accessing Memory…
“Would you like to attend volleyball camp?” Her voice was so sharp. She was so short. What a precious kid. Middle school students always seemed so innocent. Maybe this is why my Aunts and Uncles always smiled when I came around. I mean, just look at her head. How could anything with such a big head be mean or evil? She looked like she was about to fall over at any minute. How did that thing stay up? Oh wait, she was looking at me…
So, I answered, “Do I look like someone interested in volleyball?”
“Between you and me,” she whispered, “the faster I hand out all these printouts, the sooner I get to go home. So yes, to me, everyone looks like they’re interested.” She motioned for me to take some with her little arms.
“I’ll take two then,” guilt made me take two of the printouts from her. Although I knew I would just recycle them when I got home, I took solace in the fact that she would at least have to worry about handing out two fewer printouts. Unfiltered honesty was one of the few things I respected about Middle Schoolers. Knowing the one at my house… Was it age, fear, or a complete lack of control that made them like that? Who knew?
“Thank you,” she smiled cheekily at me before moving on to someone else. This girl was a hustler. Did I just get hustled?
Thankfully, my height and appearance did not make me look any younger or older than everyone else. I pretty much fit in, even if that meant, in some way, I still looked like a middle schooler myself. I made my way through the crowd of socializing students, a group of boys throwing a football back and forth, and a group of girls gossiping. Like a mission objective in a videogame, I was more than unsuccessful at finding that person of interest. Why were there so many people here? Was school not dismissed? Just go home already! Resolute, I continued scanning the area until I spotted a small group of students walking away from the campus on a nearby sidewalk. It was the target!
Catching up with the group, I was mindful to lag behind them. Recognizably, the girl was just a few steps in front of me. She had not noticed me. Dark brown straight hair on her head; Her chemically-treated hair was full of perms and relaxers, with kinky knots suggesting it had not been combed today. That was definitely her. “Hey,” I said. Easily, I could tell she recognized my voice. How? Well, she jumped, but tried to play it off by choosing to ignore me. So, “Keziah,” I said a bit louder. That did the trick. I was no stranger to embarrassing my sister…
Finally, she turned around. "I have to go," she said, her friends looking puzzled. "I'll catch up with you guys tomorrow." Hurrying, she joined me as I walked in the opposite direction. I usually rode ahead of her on my skateboard, but I decided to ditch my once trusty traveling companion back at the school dumpster. No amount of duct tape in the world could get that thing back in a stable position. Planning a funeral service and burial would be a little dramatic, but at least the heartbreaking departure was made easier knowing I had an additional skateboard back home. I seem to have a lot of close attachments to non-people…
Wow, I'm a loner. Anyway... I decided to wear my hood over my head. The scratch on the side of my face was small enough for Bianca and others not to take notice unless they knew about my fight with Spit Ball Kid during lunch. But Keziah and my mother, two people I live with and see every day, would obviously notice at first glance and want to know what happened. I want to fight my own battles. That's what a certain someone would say to me right now if they were here... Plus, I don't want to come across as weak to my sister. I'm sure Keziah probably curses my name every day in her head, but at least she wouldn't have the say-so to prove her ill thoughts of me. Considering there's still friction between the two of us, on her part at least, it would be in character for Keziah not to ask why I'm wearing my hood in eighty-degree weather. In fact, what Keziah says to me suggests she doesn't seem to care or notice. "You're late."
“I know,” I grumbled, “when were you gonna tell me you were about to wander off?”
“I wasn’t wandering off! My friends and I were going to WacDonald's. How would I have told YOU if YOU were late?”
“One,” annoyed, I snapped my finger and counted with my hands, “You have my number. Two, you were about to go to that slow death of a grease trap known as a ‘fine-dining establishment.’ And three… Without me!”
“I wouldn’t call it fine dining,” she was rolling her eyes and smirking, “but that was the plan. And sorry… You weren’t invited.”
“I would’ve invited myself then.”
“Do you have to?”
“Yeah,” I gawked, feeling so betrayed. There was that unflinching honesty, back to wound me yet again. “I have to. Mom said it was my responsibility to-”
“Yeah, I know,” she fanned her hands to shoo me away, “I know...”
There was a brief pause between us. That awkward silence would have been the death of me, so I chose violence and let my temper get the better of me. No, I did not hit my sister, physically… “You know what? It’s cool. Spoil your appetite before dinner. I’ll see you at the house later on.”
“Whoa,” she hurried up, trying to match my pace as I fled her angrily. “Wouldn’t Mom be upset at you?” She obviously did not understand the nature of the game I was playing. Middle Schooler…
“Yeah,” I had her right where I wanted her, “she would. But I can explain to her that you wouldn’t let me do my job and wanted to spoil your appetite instead.” With a devious grin, I stopped to look back at Keziah. She looked back at her friends. That cheeky girl, she really thought about leaving! Mom would have torn me a new one if she left. But Keziah restored my faith in her when she hesitated to leave my side. “So... lovely weather?”
“Shut up!”
“Okay…”
STAGE: The Freeman Household
TIME: 7:05 PM
Takeout was on the menu tonight. The smell of shrimp, rice, and steamed vegetables wafted in the kitchen air. Keziah, Mom, and I were sitting at the table. Sadly, it was a table for four, yet only three seats were filled. I wore my hoodie, still up, as we watched the news on the family television in the living room. Mom enforced that Keziah and I watch the news daily to develop a broader sense of the world. I didn't get it. Recently, we were consuming only countless hours of candidate advertisements, debate night highlights, and anything else related to the presidential election. When it was not about the election, there were sports, and then there was the weather. Anchors reported the weather, which was always bound to change due to the bipolar might of Texas. The morning could reach a chilling sub-zero as a blistering heatwave crept on over in the afternoon. Then there would be a furious hurricane only to have the day end quietly with only a mild temperature. So, it was sweater weather, if you would.
Drenched in duck sauce, I satisfyingly consumed my rice and shrimp dish. Chinese food has always been my favorite take-out delivery of choice, rivaling that of pizza. But let us be real here. Nothing was beating pizza. Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Keziah poking a cold egg roll laying on the side of her carton with her chopsticks. Egg rolls never matched the satisfaction of her taste buds. I could not blame her. Egg rolls were not pizza.
Judging by the look on Mom’s face, she felt nostalgic having the two of us eat dinner at the table like old times. Then again, this sight alone was rare to see. A religious woman, she was always wearing a gold cross on her neck and had at least one cross in the living room… and kitchen. It almost felt like we were a warehouse for crosses. Yet under one of the crosses was a verse displayed on a small rectangular sign, Isaiah 54:17. I did not even need to continue reading it to know what the verse said. ‘No weapon formed against you shall prosper.’ Trust me. It was a verse that was said in this house so many times that it practically was family at this point. Mom loved the verse. She even carried a small strip of paper with it on it, and she stuffed it in her coat, which hung on the back of her chair. A white lab coat hung. Her occupation was related to pharmaceuticals, after all. Unpacked moving boxes were scattered around the first floor. Some had bubble wrap sticking out, and others were still sealed up. Funny, we moved into our new home about two weeks ago. Even so, it felt like a lifetime by now. We had gotten somewhat lazy when it came to unpacking everything. Maybe this way, we still were there instead of here.
The news transitioned into airing commercials about twenty minutes into the TV program. The table was dead silent, not counting the television audio and our chopsticks scrapping the side of our take-out boxes. It was eerie. I never noticed how much TV filled in those quiet gaps around the table. Although I did not mind the silence, which I can assume for Keziah, I could also tell how bothersome it was for Mom.
“You guys had a good day at school?” She put on a brave face. I guess it was not brave enough because we did not respond. “Keziah?”
“It was cool,” Sis was always brief.
“Okay, that’s cool. Coolio!” Keziah playfully rolled her eyes at Mom’s cringe humor. How could you get mad at the lady? As cringe as she was, she really just tried so hard. You go, Mom. And hopefully, you get better material. “Kieren,” she looked at me with that goofy smile. Dread was what I felt. “Was your day coolio too?”
There it was, a healthy set of cringe for everyone around the table. Thanks, Mom. “Sure,” a bashful fake smile was all I could give her. Her happy demeanor was a bit much to take at the table. Although, my fight with Spit Ball Kid made my day more than what my response would have implied. Don’t even get me started on Max’s daredevil attempt. But she did not need to know how much trouble this kid almost got himself in. Man… high school was stressful.
“Sure,” Mom nodded. “Sounds good.” The table became silent once again. I really wish the TV would stop airing commercials.
The news returned shortly after. An anchor appeared on the screen. White hair and even whiter teeth, all those anchors never looked like me, not in the slightest. And when they did, they were always talking about sports or forced to make a joke. Well, let us see what this one had to say. “Welcome viewers to our seven-thirty edition. I don’t think I’m the only one who needs a break from all things politics.” He, along with some producers from the back, chuckled. You said it, sir. Nothing would be better than keeping the politics out of the dinner table. “As you may know, tomorrow holds the date of not only a family tragedy but also a loss in the world of science. Tomorrow is the ten-year anniversary of-”
Immediately, Mom changed the channel to an animated program. It was so sudden. I looked at her. She softly set the remote down. I can tell something was up from the tone in her previously upbeat and cringe humor changing so drastically. “When was the last time we sat around and ate dinner?” She smiled that fake smile of hers. It was ok, Mom. I knew how bad it hurt. I knew how much you wanted to cry. It was ok. Yeah, that was what I wanted to say. But instead…
“A long time,” I responded.
“Exactly,” I could see a bit of twinkle in her eyes. Maybe that smile was genuine, after all. If so… What was this heavy-ass feeling weighing us all down? “A long time... I understand a lot has happened, but we shouldn’t let that get in the way of our family time.” She turned to Keziah. “You’ve made friends, right?”
“Yeah,” Keziah responded.
Mom turned her attention to me. “You’re going on that field trip tomorrow, right?” Avoiding eye contact, I concentrate on twirling my chopsticks. I was only brave enough to nod. “Then let’s focus on those good things.” I noticed her attention shifting to the empty chair from time to time as she spoke. “I can’t change the past. If I could, I would. Let’s just enjoy the time we have now. Does that sound good?” Keziah and I both nodded our heads. It was clear she needed this more than either of us. “Good.” At least the noise from the TV filled in the silence between us. As we continued eating, Mom noticed Keziah continuously poking her egg roll. “What’s wrong with your egg roll? Too eggy? Or are you too eggy?” she says, trying to lighten the mood.
“I don’t even know what that means,” something set Keziah off. She got up furiously.
“I’m going to bed.”
“You’re already tired? It’s not even eight-thirty yet. Are you feeling ok?”
“Yeah. Goodnight, Mom. I love you.”
“Goodnight, Serenity.” Puzzled, Mom just watched Keziah walk away. She was not stamping or huffing. It was just silent. It was like a protest without any chanting or eye contact. She left, and Mom shouted, “I love you, too,” as Keziah rounded the stairs. We watched her. Once Keziah reached the top of the stairs and entered the second floor, Mom took away my chopsticks to get my attention. “Are you still walking Keziah to and from school?”
“Yes,” I felt so betrayed. Why… Oh, why… Why did my sister leave me alone at this awkward table? I was not equipped for this. My charisma trait was not even halfway to being maxed out yet. And she was forcing me to make eye contact. I was not spec'd for this.
“What have you two talked about?”
“We haven’t talked about anything.”
“Nothing whatsoever?”
“The last time I tried, it was about the weather.”
Mom furrowed her brow and glanced at my hoodie. “Why are you wearing your hood at the dinner table? Take it off, please.” Reluctantly, I removed my hood, revealing a scratch on my cheek, just below my eye. Mom's eyes widened. “Where did that scratch come from?”
Alternate Ending:
Thank you for following the journey thus far! I created this illustration last year before I changed McDope to WacDonald's. The smallest things can cause the most indecisiveness for us creatives. Subscribe to the Series, Like the Episodes, and Share with Friends! Comment what you think about the series thus far. I would love to hear what y'all think.
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