I laugh. When it comes to hot, single women, I never stand back.
I do not see Chrissie again until lunch break, and she is sitting under the tree with all of Anne's friends-they are all laughing and joking - she fit in right from the start.
We do not sit under the tree. There is a common presumption this space is for the Senior Student Council, yet the two black students on the council do not sit here either. Most think it is because they would rather prefer to spend break doing other things, but we all know, yet we prefer to ignore the thin membrane of racial divide that exists.
I also notice Johnathan sitting next to Chrissie, plying his charms on her. I cannot understand what the girls see in him, with those washed out blue eyes and pasty white skin.
Every girl, black and white seems to swoon when he walks into a room, it is nothing less than infuriating. I realize this has never bothered me before, so why would it do so now?
I leave school as soon as the last bell chimes through the corridors and I see Chrissie walking along the pathway. It looks like she is on her way to the bus stop and I contemplate stopping and offering her a lift, but then I press the button on my car stereo, increasing the volume and then listening to the music loudly, drowning out all thoughts of her, I drive away from school as fast as traffic would allow me.
When I eventually get home, I park my car in the garage.
Maria is in the kitchen, and I greet her friendly, but I am not in the mood for chitchat, so I walk past fast calling out a greeting in a rushed tone. I run up the stairs quickly and once I am in my room, I turn on my stereo as loud as possible. I lie down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling.
My mom died when I was young. She was involved in a car accident and the white teenager, who killed her, by jumping a red light, only got a few years in jail.
My father now works all day and all night-I hardly ever see him.
He promised himself when he was young he would work himself into a frenzy until he could afford anything his heart desired, and now he owned his own share-listed Construction Company.
Before my mom died, when I was only five years old, he used to be home more often and I often think back to those days. We used to do things together, play ball, go to the park, the beach and have picnics. When my mom died, he just went to work one day, and I do not think he ever really came home again.