Two Minutes Too Late

Written 10.18.11 - 10.19.11 for the K12 Creative Writing Club. Project 1: Picture to Story. A young woman chooses to break away from a bad situation.

    "I don't know Ira, he's been acting kinda funny lately."
We were walking to the bus. Me, Jazz, and Brittany. For some reason the weather decided to go against the grain today, and it was hotter than I'd ever felt it get out here in Point Rey. Ninety degrees and rising, it was a shift from the usual seventy-something warmth I was used to. It gave most of the girls an excuse to wear some short shorts and have their chests hanging out, but thankfully none of my girls decided to go with that crowd.
    "Maybe it's just cuz he's getting nervous, ya'll are under all that pressure from them scholarship people."
    "Maybe, but he's just a boy. He can't be so sweet all the time, can he?"
That made all the girls snicker, and Brittany almost tripped over the gate track as we walked into the schoolyard.

---

    "Come on, man! It's only one test, you can fudge that into a B, easy."
Lincoln wasn't taking no for an answer, and Marcus was too caught up in this crew to keep saying it.
    "But my girl, ain't now way in Hell she'd ever let me-"
"What, you whipped now?" The boys jeered at him, making kissy faces and prancing around like idiots. "Ira won't let me eat steak. Ira says I can't hang with my boys. Ira says."
    "Man, whatever. I ain't whipped over nothing." Marcus retorted, slinging his backpack onto his shoulder and back-stepping over the lunch table's bench. "You owe me, Lincoln."
    "See, that's my boy. You ain't afraid of no girl getting in a hissy fit on you."
"You ain't seen Ira mad, boy. She'd scare a grown man if she wanted to."

Lincoln and his group snorted, Marcus was probably right, Ayira Jackson could've been the one who inspired the quote about women's wrath.

~

"Ira! Where you at?" Marcus called, his voice nearly echoed through the barely-furnished condo. "I'm taking you out tonight."

"It's 'Where are you', not 'where you at'," Ayira called back, coming into the living room from the kitchen.

    "Hey, it's like the song says. I ain't got no money, but I got bad grammar."
Ayira smirked, "You can't be talking like you're a hood rat anymore, Moja." She popped a grape in her mouth and sat down on the arm of the couch.

Marcus smiled, "But I am a hood rat, that's just how I are." He feigned pain when she threw a grape at his head, flopping onto the couch beside her. "When's your daddy coming back from Somalia?"

    "I dunno. Mom said she hopes he never comes back, he's been giving her grief about living out here with the rich kids. He thinks it's taking me away from my culture."

    "Ain't you-" Marcus started, his words stopped by the glare he got from Ayira. "Aren't you studying Swahili and all that?"

    "Yeah, but Daddy doesn't think that's enough. He wants me to live out there with him and all that."

    She continued to eat the grapes, Marcus grinned easily as he watched her. They'd known each other since the seventh grade, and he'd been in love with her from day one. Now they were juniors, and he could only find more reasons to love her.

    "What'cha lookin' at?" Ayira taunted, tossing a grape at him.
"A whole lotta' nothin'." He replied, catching the grape in his mouth. "Go get dressed."
    "Where you taking me?"
Marcus shrugged, "Somewhere."

He knew Ayira hated not knowing things, and it'd bug her into coming wherever it was he planned on taking her. He was sure she'd have fun.

---

    I didn't know where Marcus planned on going, so I picked something that could fit with just about any kind of event- My favorite dress, which had the colors of the Swhailian flag, and a plain pair of black sneakers.

    By the time I got back out into the living room, Mom was already home, making her evening cup of coffee and watching re-runs of her latest soap opera. "Hey mama, how was work?"
    She replied with her usual torrent of complaints, before shooing me out of the door so she could relax to herself. I went downstairs and waited for Marcus in the parking lot, and I could help but grin when I saw him pull up in his 1970 Mach 1. Not only was it my favorite car, it was also in the perfect shade of green. He only drove that when he wanted to impress someone.

~

    "Who's house is this?" Ayira asked, seeing the mansion-like building in front of them.
    Marcus smiled and leaned over the seat, kissing her cheek before making a hasty exit of the car. "You'll see."

    By the time the couple made it into the house, Ayira had a fairly good idea about who's house it was, and she was livid that he'd brought her there. Marcus knew she wouldn't like it a lot, but he wanted to show her that RB wasn't that bad.

    "You know I don't like him, Majo. Why are we even at this stupid thing?" She was smiling at every few girls she recognized, and getting glared at by the rest. African Ice Queen, is what they called her behind her back. And sometimes in front of her face. It didn't bother her, and that ticked people off.
    "Ricky is a good guy, he's helping me out with money." Marcus said, pulling Ayira through the foyer and into the living room. It looked more like a dance club, and Ayira was seconds away from getting groped by strangers every time she stood still.

    "Yo, Marcus!" Ricky called from the wall, some girl dancing in front of him probably too drunk to notice he wasn't paying attention to her. "Good to see you, man."
    Ayira kept a polite smile on her face, keeping her hand in Marcus' so she wouldn't have to worry about being washed away into the crowd. "Hey Lincoln, Ricky."

    "I see the Ice Queen still hasn't let the warmth on her heart die off," Ricky taunted, taking a swig of whatever he had in his red Dixie cup, "How you doin' girlie?"
    "Hey man, lay off, a'ight? She got good reason not to like you." Marcus said, wrapping his arm around Ira's shoulders. "But you a changed man, ain't you?"
    Ricky laughed, "Yeah, Ira. I'm helping your boy out, you know." He took another swig, flipping back his long blonde hair. Ayira had the biggest crush on him when they were younger, and every girl she knew threw themselves at him when they got the chance, but she knew he was bad news. "You tell her you workin' for me yet?"
    "Yeah, man. Why you think she's here?"
Ayira cleared her throat, "Yeah. I'm right here, so why am I so third-person?"
    "Well Ira, I guess you down. I didn't think you'd be cool with Marcus helping me out." He stared at her with such a cool expression, she remembered why she liked looking at those baby blue eyes. They had the warmth of the sun, only hotter, and if she were made of ice she would've melted everytime he looked at her.
    "What's he talking about Marcus?" She said, snapping out of her trance and looking at her own boyfriend. Marcus was something all of his own. He was brown, but had the perfect tan in his complexion. He had deep, chocolate brown eyes, and hair that curled perfectly when he wet it.

    "Nothing, Ira. He's just messin' around." Marcus flashed her his signature smile- His teeth were perfectly straight, and white as white got.

Somehow she didn't think that was true.

---

    I let go of the fact that we were standing in a room, dancing, with RB and Lincoln. Maybe they weren't so bad, but I still didn't like Marcus working for them. Especially since they wouldn't give on just what kinda "work" they were into. Rich boys hiring poor kids usually didn't end up well out here in Point Rey.
    I couldn't let go of the fact that Marcus was playing Beer Pong. He knew just as well as I did that those rich kids had nothing to worry about if they got caught- But me and him had everything to lose. Both of us were on full-scholarship at the PR Academy. And we couldn't drink, we could do drugs, we couldn't even drop our averages below B+.
    I wondered how he could be so stupid, but he was still a hood rat at heart. The lonely brown kid who couldn't catch a break in life. Bounced around foster homes, lost his parents to a car crash.

    I pulled him away from the table when he had too much.
"Baby, I can handle it, yo. Like it's nothin'." He slurred his words, leaning against me.
    "No you can't." I spit at him, pulling him to a wall. "Are you crazy?"
"About you baby." He smiled, and I felt the weight of his whole body against mine. "You know I like that dress on you."
    I shoved him, scoffing. "You've officially lost it Moja. You wouldn't do this before. And what's this I hear about you working for Ricky, what you doing for him?"
    He moved off, stumbling back and grinning. "Nothin, just bein' smart. He wants me to just do a couples tests for him..."
    "Oh and that's smart?" I couldn't believe him. He always wanted those boys to like him, and now he was risking his whole life for them? They were going too far.


~

    Marcus went to the bathroom to get cleaned up, and I was just standing there in the corner of that room. I felt breath on my neck, and Marcus' hands on my waist. I smiled and leaned back into his embrace, inhaling the strong scent of cologne- Marcus never wore cologne.
    "You know I always liked you, Ayira."

The warm, yet chilling breath on my neck belong to Ricky. And I froze in his arms. I tried to push his hands down off of my body, but he wouldn't let go, and part of me didn't want him to.
    "What the hell, Ricky. Get off me." I said, a little less fiercely than I wanted to, pushing his hands off of my waist. "Are you asking for a death signing?"
    "Come on, why so icy? I know you like me." He said confidently, sauntering his way back up to me. "Marcus won't know a thing."

    And just when I thought this couldn't get any worse, it did. Marcus had come out of the bathroom, and he wasn't happy.

    "Yo, why you on my girl RB? I thought we was cool?" He said strongly, shoving Ricky against the wall. I moved from Ricky and got between him and Marcus.
    "Marcus, just let it go, you're drunk. You're going to do something stupid."
"Yeah, Ayira knows everything don't she? Ayira thinks she's a rich kid just cuz she keeps smart. Well you know what Ayira?" I stared at him, he moved inches away from my face. "I don't need you, or your white girl crap."
    
    I moved back from him, the tears stinging my eyes, "You don't mean th-"
"I sure as hell meant every word of it, Ayira. Why you defending punk boy?" He shifted his gaze to Ricky, who was probably looking like a scare kitten right now. "What, you like vanilla boys now?"

    I scoffed, he was being an ignorant racist now. Maybe you couldn't take the hood out of a boy, but he knew better than to say something like that, especially in front of so many people.
    "So it's like that now?" I asked him, stepping up to him. "Then I gues you ain't nothin' but a hood rat, Moja. A pathetic, street kid, who don't know a good thing when he's got it. This life, these rich kids, that's you. But you worked for it. And now you're gonna throw it all away."
    "And for what? Cuz some white kid touched your girlfriend? Don't put this on me. This is all on you. Just like it always is, right? You."

    I turned away from him and walked out of that house. If he was going to wreck his life, I wasn't going to watch him do it. And maybe I wouldn't have the heart to keep from picking up the pieces, but I was hoping it wouldn't come to that.

    I couldn't watch my Moja shatter, and just let him stay that way. It was all up to him now. I walked towards the Line 23 bus stop, the cold air reddening my skin as I moved through it. It was trying to push me back, but I wasn't listening.

    This time I was going against the grain. The signs were two minutes too late for me to care.

Author's Note

Judge harshly. I'll appreciate the criticism, so long as it is constructive.

I sort of rushed this, and it was really written in the span of 6 non-consecutive hours. I think it might make for a good [longer] short story, if I get the chance to expand on it a little bit.

The assignment was to create a piece based on a photo, including all of the senses.

(Image Link: http://www.safenetwork.org/AngryCouple2.jpg)

**Moja means "One" in Swahili. It is used as "The One" in this, as Ayira cares greatly for Marcus.

Legend:

" -- " Signifies a point-of-view change.
" ~ " Signifies a break in time.

Reviews

[Summer D.]

You are an amazing writer. I've expressed how much I love this piece to you before and I would REALLY love if you continued it. I don't have much to add. I really felt like I was there. Beautiful writing~


* Raises Up Piece Up Paper with 100 on it *

[lemon16]

Amazing story. I loved the dialogue.. keep going your great

[Esana Bridges]

It's a sweet piece, sad, but I like the emotions in it.

However, I think that it might help to had larger indentations or more spacing between paragraphs, because I know I got confused several times. I like how you used a word from another language and the dialogue was wonderful and convincing.

At first I wasn't sure about the third person --> first person shifts, because I felt like that disrupted the flow a bit. However, I did really like how you wrote that last part in first person, because it felt more connected. Your descriptions of people were very well done, though I have to admit, I found your "African Ice Queen" nickname and her reaction a bit cliched (though that's not always a bad thing.)

Overall, I enjoyed this story, and I hope that you will take time to expand on it. ^ - ^

[Heaven Lane]

I really love this. No grammical errors that I saw, beautiful descriptions, and your dialogue enhances the story perfectly. You're truly an amazing writer. :)