Chapter Six: The Calm

“If you take the square root of twelve and multiply it by the dividend, and then multiply that by one-third of twenty-four…”

Mrs. Boarding continued to scratch on the chalkboard, droning in an unmatched, lazy voice. All of the students gazed with nodding heads and half-closed eyes at her, the room’s continued warmness seeping into them over the fifty-minute period, prodding them towards sleep. A few of them were bent over their desks with pencils in hand, pretending to scribble notes or correct mistakes in their math problems.

Brandon’s head began to lull sideways, until it sprang back up, alert. He heard a snigger beside him and turned his neck to see Crystal containing a wide grin behind her hand, pressed against her mouth. For a second, she glanced his way and imitated falling asleep, as he had done. Shaking his head but smiling all the same, he turned to the other side and saw Christian a few desks away, hurriedly copying whatever the teacher had been saying.

“Now we move on to the next problem and this one is harder. First, you go and divide the numerator by the denominator to simplify the fraction…”

“I’m not even sure this is right,” Crystal whispered to Brandon. Mrs. Boarding, enraptured by the problem she was not solving, took no notice, partially because of her poor hearing and partially because they were sitting in the last row of the class.

“Who cares? We’ve only got…”

“Five minutes,” Crystal finished, craning her neck to see the clock. “I think I’m gonna take a nap once I get home. I’m exhausted.”

“You’re not the only one,” Brandon chuckled, jerking a thumb towards the other side of the room.

A few desks closer than Christian, who was still enthralled by Mrs. Boarding’s monotone lecture, Michael had his face planted roughly in the crease of his math book, arms hanging limply from the sides of his chair. Crystal giggled and watched as one-by-one the others in their class noticed and began to whisper among themselves about it.

When the buzzing of voices became too annoying and loud to ignore, Mrs. Boarding turned to face her class and said in a much more colorful voice, “Just because it is the last week of school does not mean you have the right to jabber continually throughout my lessons! Even though we will have no more tests this year, all of this information will be very useful next year in your tests.”

“Do you seriously think we’ll remember any of this?” said a rude boy in the front row.

“I think you especially, Malcolm, would do well to at least attempt a passing grade. Or would you like me to tell the class how absolutely horrible your final exam was? I’m surprised you’re not being held back.”

“As if you’d want me in your class another year,” Malcolm answered, propping his feet up on the desk.

Ignoring him, she shouted, “Mr. Walker!”

Michael stirred and jumped up out of his seat, peering around groggily at the surrounding room, where everyone stared curiously at him. Cheeks flustered to a light shade of red, he sat back in his seat, not meeting his teacher’s eyes.

“Yes ma'am?” he said hoarsely.

“Mr. Walker, how many times must I remind you that this is my classroom?” she asked, strolling up the aisle where students cringed away in their seats, not daring to glance upwards at her.

“I know it is.”

“Then why do you continue to sleep during my lessons? Does this look like a bed to you?” she asked, gesturing quickly at his desk.

“No.”

“Does this look like a bedroom or a sitting room to rest in?”

Before he could answer, Malcolm spoke up. “In this millennium, they call it a living room. Did’ya know?”

She rounded on him quicker than a viper, and simultaneously the bell rang. Slamming the folds of his math book shut, Michael hopped over his desk onto the next aisle and sprinted out of the room before she could give him any punishment.

When he reached his locker, his hand twirled the combination in a flash. Ripping his bag out of the small space, he threw everything into it, hoisted it onto his back, and took off out of the doors. After waiting for a few minutes, he saw the other three strolling through the door, and stood up off the stone bench where he had been sitting.

“Did you hear?” Brandon asked, grinning widely as Michael joined them. “Malcolm got two detentions. I heard she was gonna give you one, but you ran away.”

“Suits me. Maybe she’ll forget again tomorrow.”

“Not if you fall asleep again,” said Christian. “You really shouldn’t. This stuf’ll be important next year.”

“You sound like Mrs. Boarding,” Michael responded.

They walked along the brick path to the main road, where they crossed and began heading in the direction of their usual, after-school restaurant where Mrs. Moore worked. Walking in silence, Christian though over the math lessons and ignored his friend’s jeers towards Mrs. Boarding, who he quite liked.

“You realize if any of you had a different math teacher you wouldn’t scrape a passing grade?” he spoke up at last.

“Speak for yourself,” Brandon said. “I already fail in her class.”

“Yeah,” said Michael pointedly. “At least we’d have fun failing in somebody else’s class.”

As he opened the door, they all quietly passed inside of the restaurant and went to sit down at their typical booth.

************************************************

“Crystal, come help me with dinner!” Mr. Moore shouted up the stairs of their homey, pleasant dwelling.

“ ‘K,” she called, grudgingly standing up from her bed. She had been staring at the ceiling in silence, thinking back on the past few days.

Although none of them spoke of it now, there was no denying the tension felt any time they were together as a group. Tension gnawed at them every moment, while it seemed like a clock was ticking in their minds, merely counting the minutes until something terrible happened. Nobody could quite understand or even hazard a guess at what was to come; nor, it seemed, would they want to.

Trudging down the steps, she walked down a short hallway and into the kitchen. Her father looked up from the table, where he sat with a newspaper raised in front of his face. She gazed curiously around the kitchen, and then back at her father.

“Um, you said help with dinner?”

Without raising his eyes, he answered, “Oh, yeah. The oven’s preheating. I just need you to throw in some nuggets and fries.”

“Seriously?” she asked incredulously.

“What’s wrong?” Mr. Moore still did not look up at her.

“First, I don’t want that crap for dinner. Second, Christian could have done this. Why not ask him? He’s probably in the living room-”

“Studying. Unlike you, taking a nap, he is doing work.”

She crossed her arms and galred at him. “There’s no work to be done? School’s almost over, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Don’t take that tone with me. If it wasn’t for your attitude…” he continued on.

“I don’t have an attitude,” she growled, making her way into the living room, where Christian was leaning back with a book open on his lap. When she walked in, his eyes were not on his book, but staring at the television, which was muttering quietly as the cop show raged on.

“Doing a good load of studying,” Crystal laughed rudely.

He did not answer, and so when she went past him on the way to the garage door, she aimed a kick and landed it on his shin.

“Hey, what the heck?” he exclaimed as she marched past and into the sweltering garage, where the bulky freezer sat.

Grabbing the frozen nuggets and fries, she slammed the lid and took her time returning to the kitchen, where her father sat, silently perusing the comic section of his paper.

Meanwhile, Brandon reclined in his comfortable, cushioned chair, eyes drifting in the direction of the television. In his hands, he held a Bible, reading the passage his father had marked for him to study before their next study that Wednesday. That particular passage, from midway through the Old Testament, encouraged him to glance up at the moving lights and figures on the screen. Whenever he did risk a quick peek over the dog-eared pages, his vision was inevitably captured, until he awakened himself and set to work on the passage.

“Mr. Comfy, when is bedtime?” he heard an unusually deep voice say from in front of him. It was followed by the sound of little girls chuckling merrily.

On the carpet in front of him, Grace and Lilly sat indian-style facing each other. With an odd assortment of stuffed animals and dolls, they grasped the figures lightly and bounced them all around the vicinity, giggling and speaking in high or low voices, depending on the gender of their doll or animal. It seemed to Brandon that the extra noise did nothing to focus his attention on the words in front of his face.

“Could you two be any louder?” he snapped, glaring at them.

Lilly, who was shy around people not in her family, studied the carpet, fidgeting with one of the smooth tufts it was made up of. Grace, on the other hand, raised her chin and gave him a displeased look that clearly said she did not approve of his opinion.

“Yeah, we could. Wanna hear?”

“Not particularly,” he growled as his father walked past. Saying nothing else to avoid being lectured to, he slammed the leather covers shut and decided he would read it tomorrow or something like that.

He stood up roughly from the chair, throwing his Bible carelessly on the table. Yawning, he marched across the room without saying a word and towards the stairs. He heard his father and mother talking loudly in the kitchen, although he did not bother and try to make out the words.

“Brandon!”

Turning around a few steps up from the ground, he saw his father walking out of the kitchen towards him.

“What?” he grumbled.

“Where are you going?” his father asked, staring at him suspiciously.

“Um, to my room?”

“Why don’t you stay down here and talk with us? We’re discussing the sermon from Sunday.”

“I’m tired,” Brandon lied.

“Have you read your Bible yet?”

“Yeah.”

“All of the verses?”

Brandon sighed. “Yes! Don’t you trust me?”

“Should I?”

“ ‘Night,” he grumbled, heading back up the stairs.

His father called something after him, but instead of answering or even turning around he quickened his pace on the stairs. Reaching the landing, he strolled into his room and slammed the door behind him.

Everything was quiet as he laid down in bed, hands over his eyes. Since that sleepover with his friends, it seemed his emotions were on more of a rollercoaster than ever before. Despite not seeing the lady outside his window all weekend, her sudden disappearance terrified him more than anything. Where could she be? It could be a coincidence that she stopped haunting outside his window after all of his friends saw her, or it could be just another question.

It seemed on that night that she recognized him, and there was the terrible gleam in her eyes, more so than usual. Or was that merely the moonlight’s glint?

On Monday, he had been nearly terrified to return to school, in case he heard she had moved on from his home to one of the other two where his friends lived. If he, in some way, brought that same terrible mystery onto them, he was not sure if he could forgive himself. It was only a matter of a time before she acted out on all of these night-time vigils. There was no doubt in his mind that she was not simply watching. She was studying, thinking, planning; everything hinged upon that one question he could not answer.

They had seen her clearly that night, but had she seen them?

Even while Brandon was anxiously curled up in his bed, Michael’s footsteps clicked on the sidewalk a few streets away. He was heading for the Gray house, where Lilly had been spending most of the day. Once he got there, both of them would head home, but chances were it would take longer to leave than necessary. Brandon’s parents loved talking to him, and even if they were not in a very chatty mood, he and Brandon could spend hours talking over the most inconsequential subjects.

Hardy had been their home for more years than either of them cared to remember or think back on. Ever since they had met early in elementary school, the two were inseparable. More than just their similar personalities, it was in the way they met that such a strong friendship was beginning to form.

Michael and his mother had been strolling casually along this same street, which had not changed for nearly a decade, when he saw the Gray family a little bit ahead. Mr. and Mrs. Gray were deep in a discussion with an older, angry-looking gentleman, who began to shout words and phrases Michael had never heard before. His mother seemed horrified and commanded him never to repeat those words.

The closer they got, the more Michael understood what was going on. Whoever the grouchy man was, he clearly did not like the Gray family. Although Michael knew little about them, he felt sorry, and remembered how it was to be yelled at like that. While his mother was going to turn into a shop, ignoring the strange scene, Michael ran up and interrupted the man’s taunting, vile spew.

“Stop it!” he said as loudly as he dared. “Why do you do that?”

The man turned a hateful glare towards Michael and asked, “What? You friends with these- ?”

“No!” his mother had interrupted, sprinting towards the scene. “There are kids here? What’s wrong with you?”

“I ain’t sharing this town with their type,” he spat, emphasizing the last two words and giving the Gray family a piercing stare that could burn.

“Who died and made you God?” Nicole Walker jeered at the slightly hunchbacked, balding man.

“I’m not the only one. Lots of us don’t like their kind.”

“‘Their kind’ is called humans, just like you. And no matter how many of you there are, you all’ll get thrown in a cell if you do anything.”

“You wouldn’t call the cops,” he laughed nastily.

“Try me.”

With a mangled expression of hate and nervousness, the man had stormed off, leaving the Gray family to thank his mother with many words and prayers. She looked taken aback at all of the gratefulness, trying unsuccessfully to say things like “He deserved it” and “Anyone would have.”

“Hey,” Brandon had said, walking up nervously to Michael. “We met at the park. Remember?”

“Kinda,” he replied truthfully.

“Yeah, well, that was really brave of your mom.”

Michael glowed with delight at the compliment. “Why’d that man say those words?” he asked curiously.

“He thinks he’s better,” answered Brandon with a touch of disdain.

“Why?”

“‘Cause he’s white, and we’re black.” Brandon looked sheepishly at the ground, as if afraid Michael might share the same opinion as the man.

“But… I’m white? And I think you’re great?”

“Really?” asked Brandon, smiling from ear to ear.

“Yeah, of course.”

Now, so many years later, he was walking past that exact spot. Whatever happened to that rude man was not for him to worry or even care about. Since learning what those vile words meant, he felt a similar hatred towards the person who could dare call another human being those things simply because they looked different.

Brandon’s ten times the man he is, he thought gladly, not at all despairing that the man had disappeared since then, never to be seen again.

Michael turned off of Pine Street onto Park Road, and for a time he found himself walking among the tall, leafy trees, some still blooming gleefully. Pine Tree Park was exceptionally pretty at this time of year, and a cool breeze whipped away any feeling of uncomfortable heat. Birds conversed cheerfully overhead, and he even saw a few squirrels run amok, in the direction of trees and nuts.

For a time, it seemed as if the sleepover had never happened. Maybe nothing would come of it, anyways. Despite being one to believe that terrible events were undoubtedly going to crash over their heads, the last few days made every thought like that seem foggy and exaggerated. They were just being paranoid, after all. People always said teenagers were unnecessarily emotional.

Overhead, a dark-colored bird swooped, peering down on the earth. A teenage boy casually moved along the sidewalk which bordered the park. People with strollers and people without went in all different directions. A few bikes went by, ridden either quickly to train or comfortably to travel. A half-dozen runners passed, breathing hard and sweat dripping into their eyes. They waved lazily at everyone they saw, familiar or not.

Today, the park was unusually empty-looking from up here where no unaided human could ever hope to reach. Not even the squirrels who could climb and looked jealously at the sky ever would reach this height. She alone, the majestic bird, would find the joy and peace hidden up here.

But who was that, moving quietly among the scattered citizens in the park? Wearing dark-colored clothes, and methodically lengthening and shortening her strides in tune, she traveled maybe a dozen feet behind the boy, who had no idea. Unbeknownst to him, a dark figure followed, more reliable, perhaps, than even his own shadow.

The foolish boy who had let his guard down arrived at his apparent destination, a two-story home near a field of corn. He stood at the door for a moment, pushing some button on the wall, and soon enough a middle-aged man opened the strange, rectangular piece of wood. He entered into the house, and his shadow-figure stopped outside, resting behind a tree out of sight from the house.

The dark bird soared away, thinking she would come back later. Humans tended to linger in houses much longer than made reasonable sense, and even if he never came out, she wanted to know how long that shadow-lady would wait.

An hour later, she returned over the house, stomach bulging with the worms she had just discovered lurking in the soft soil of the park. She saw the boy exit the house, only this time he was accompanied by a little girl wearing a pink pack on her back and with both hands clutching two miniature people.

What vanity, the bird thought, to make images of yourself to dress up, as if you, yourself, are not good enough. Most humans do not realize their beauty. We, in the air, wish to be them, and yet they refuse to be content. It will be their downfall.

Evening fell as they walked, and still the shadow-figure followed, barely visible now but clearly there. By the time they began walking along the road lined with soybeans, they were the only three left on the road. The figure hung back now, covered in shadows, simply watching as the duo turned into another two-story home.

The shadow-figure stayed a while longer, until turning and walking back down the road, disappearing into darkness as if she had never been there in the first place.

Curious, the dark bird landed on the side of the road and watched the two-story house, where three people bustled around for a time before the lights shut off one-by-one and it was enveloped in darkness.

When all the world went black and there nothing left to see except the moonlight, the bird took flight again, rising higher than any human could wish, and soaring above the darkness, as if unaffected by the whole of it and the curious events undoubtedly happening below somewhere.



Author's Note

Thank you all for reading :) I hope you are enjoying. If you have suggestions or critiques, please tell me below so I can improve everything.

Reviews

[Willard Wells]

Still working my way through your work and my problem is the material as mentioned before is to me more focused on a much younger audience. As you proof your work you may want to consider reducing the words. When you are doing your descriptions they sometimes go beyond what appears needed. Just my opinion and it is your work to deal with as you see fit..

[Not here]

thank you willard. and i will definitely think about that as i review and edit. i appreciate any critiques you have, and if you see a glaring instance or example feel free to message me about it. thank you for reading :)

[Amy R]

I really like the way you wrote this chapter!
well done! I'd be sure ot keep reading it. :)

[Not here]

thanks Amy :) i think ch 7 is up now. i appreciate all ur reads

[Amy R]

sure, i'm already reading it :)

[Not here]

oh okay lol :) awesome saucem pausem

[Stan Lee]

Nice job. The last part with the bird added an ominous tone and created questions to make the reader thirst for more.
One spelling mistake... Crystal *glared
:)

[Not here]

okay thanks ill check that out :) and i appreciate it

[Bear]

Not to sure about your use of the word "this's" unless it is meant to show a draw or speech impediment. Good job with the inter reaction and development of relationships between the characters. You could use this chapter as the turning point on the plot line if you have some surprises you want to add to shock or shake things up for those readers who have started thinking they know where your going with the story. Sorry for the windy sentence :~)

[Not here]

no problem. im bad about them too, and i changed this's to this is. and yeah this is a chapter i added in later because i wanted the relationships to be deeper