Credit to my Beta WanderLustandFreedom. What would I do without her? Send love. Enjoy! (This rewrite has more development between Carter and Nile which the other story didn't possess.)
Foggy morning sunshine was filtering through a spiderweb in the corner of the window. I wrinkled my nose up as I felt a sneeze welling up in my nose and itching my throat, and then shook myself out of my daze. I sat in 's math class wondering if the man knew that introductions were for the very beginning of the year and not the middle. Said introductions also didn't work if you already knew everybody in the class. He had paired us off randomly and forced us to list facts about each other. But judging from the way Josh Pratson was laughing with Mary Jones — who was always seemed to be dropping things around him— and the horrible singing from Jackson Rodgers— 'Arms wide open by Creed'—everyone was doing everything but that.
I, myself, would rather be banging my head into the desk; as if sustaining brain damage might help me out on what I was doing wrong with Zia. It would probably be more help than staring aimlessly at the equations on the paper in front of me.
Twirling the pen in my hand, I half-listened to the auburn-haired white girl across from me babble on about her life. Her name was Brenda and she was known for her big mouth and horrific sweaters. Brenda was very average looking with wide eyes. Her hair sat messily on her head, a dull brown. She wore an ugly sweater every single day and her shorts always seemed to be two inches long. It made her look like she had no pants on. I never understood such fashion. I could feel my eyes glaze over as she went on about her life and newest interest. I couldn't care less. My thoughts always stayed on Zia. She had been nonexistent this past week. No matter how hard I searched she wasn't anywhere. Her effort to avoid me was impressive.
"—and you know I love Hip Hop. My dad works at one of the radio stations. So, what about yours?"
"What," I asked, releasing my lip from my teeth, a habit I had subconsciously picked up from my sister.
"Oh. I live with my uncle and sister. My dad doesn't live with me."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Brenda stuck out a lip and, for a few seconds, fell silent before she started whimpering.
"Sorry?" I repeated in confusion. Her dull blue eyes were full of pity. What did I say?
"You know... your dad," she motioned in the air weirdly, as if she'd lost control of her hand. I wondered if there was a way to ask kindly ask if she were having a spasm. "No—I mean— I'm sorry your dad left you. It must have really affected you."
Left me? When did I ever say that? I briefly pondered on whether I had mentioned anything on my father leaving. Some people are a little slower than others, my mother had once told me. She was never wrong was she? - Know-It-All continued to go on.
"Do you have an outlet for this aggression? I find that many men such as yourself," Brenda gave me an appraising look and I almost threw up in my mouth, "Turn towards hobbies. Gardening, singing, writing, rapping," she gave me a very pointed stare, "Do you have a rap career, Carter," she said all in one breath.
Brenda was leaning over in her seat. Maybe the shivers and the obvious looks of disgust weren't working. I find sarcasm to work best in these situations.
"Brenda," I said seriously, slouching dramatically, "I absolutely have a rap career. I rap about my father who left me to fend for myself. I rap about guns and drugs and strippers. On top of that I go out every Saturday night with my pants sagging and party really hard. I do all of that extremely aggressively. Now Brenda," I leaned forward to, "you wanna buy my mixtape?"
Brenda looked starry eyed and was looking at me like was a reincarnation of Jesus. It's amazing what an extremely fake backstory can do to people.
"I would love to buy your mixtape, Carter!" She was practically bouncing out of her seat. "I just want you to know that I dig guys with such qualities."
Desperately trying to keep my face straight —which was almost impossible since someone behind me was wheezing — I stared her straight in the eye.
"I know baby girl, I know."
She blushed to her toes.
Wow. This generation has no hope.
Deciding it was too much, I reached into my book bag and retrieved my water bottle. Perhaps drinking would stop me from bursting out laughing.
"Carter," the ignorant said.
I hummed in acknowledgement, deciding that words would fail after the idiotic conversation that just went down.
"We should have biracial babies together."
I choked on my water.
Horus' nuts!
I tried to breathe but failed completely, and ended up hacking up a mist of droplets and spit as I tried to keep from dying. Brenda wasn't helping, deciding to tell me how cute our children would be. The wheezing behind me had turned into a loud cackle and I turned to be met with the sight of a laughing Nile Rivers. Her green turtleneck sweater hung off of her, making her face seem small. Her jeans hung so loosely from her frame that it was hard to make out where her legs were.
Her huge wool of coily hair surrounded her whole head. She had picked it out so it was huge. Her hair was so large I wondered how I had missed it when I walked in. Her skin glowed and shined in a way that could only be natural. I was struck once again if the richness of her dark chocolate skin.
The powers of melanin.
"Can you stop snorting like a pig over there?"
My head snapped to Brenda, who was shooting a distasteful look at Nile. I was ready to reprimand her, but Nile beat me to it.
"Sorry if I'm snorting. I couldn't help but laugh because you were acting like a dim-witted bint with no home training. Tell me, do you know pushing your stereotypes onto every black person is not only ignorant but also makes you look like a complete philistine."
The look on Brenda's face was absolutely priceless. I had to wonder how she would ever recover from the verbal beating that was delivered. Nile really had a way with words. I liked that. Who didn't appreciate a person who not only delivered good insults, but also managed to do it with a wide use of vocabulary? I certainly could admire that.
"I-I'm not pushing stereotypes onto people. I'm not racist," Brenda sputtered, looking absolutely shocked. I rolled my eyes
Yes, but you are ignorant, that's for certain.
"Besides, I love African Americans and African culture. You're the one who lacks home training. Walking around with all that ugly hair on your head. You'd be better off getting it done. It's absolutely atrocious. No one with an ounce of sense would ever find that attractive." With that declaration she turned back around in her desk and smiled at me.
"We never finished talking, Carter," She continued, smiling at me.
I scoffed in disbelief and stood up quickly, grabbing my bag. Without even thinking about it, I walked up to Nile's tense form and sat down next to her giving her my (hopefully) reassuring smile before looking back at Brenda. "I think you should find a new partner. Your attitude is not very pleasant."
Brenda looked hurt for half a second, but then huffed and stomped off in a fuss. I wouldn't miss her at all. She gave me the shivers. It was probably the fetishizing. Or the fact that she said "biracial babies" like it was some kind of sexual phrase that would make me come on to her.
"Thanks," a voice said, and I found myself looking into the large brown eyes of Nile.
"No problem," I shrugged picking up my pen, " I personally find your hair quite attractive."
I cringed after I said it. Really, Carter? Way to compliment someone. You sounded like a creepy stalker. Is this why Zia's avoiding me? Do my creepy old man compliments scare her?
As I disappeared into my thoughts, my hand, which had been holding a pen, tightened considerably. I underestimated my strength and didn't think to control it while I was lost in thought. Thus explaining the time that I accidentally cracked a sink when my arm bumped into it or the time I playfully shoved Chris and he ended up being slammed into the lockers so hard he had to get checked out by the nurse.
"What did that poor pen do to you," Nile asked, looking a little surprised.
I looked down at my hand to see the crushed plastic and spilt ink in my hand. I would have to play it off casually.
"It committed four accounts of battery and assault against my bookbag. Good ole baggy here is still recovering," I reported seriously, patting my bookbag.
She looked me dead in my eyes all hints of playfulness gone."We should bring him to court. I have no tolerance for law breakers."
"I don't either," I replied, returning the intense eye contact with a serious look of my own, "I'll bring him to court. Call it self-defense. I just need someone to clean up the scene. You know a guy?"
"Oh, I know a guy," she nodded amicably. Nile reached into her bag, an old looking leather satchel with holes in it, and pulled out a pack of Kleenex. She slid it across the table like we were performing some type of drug deal. I was five seconds from exploding into laughter but bit my lip to keep it down.
"He'll get the job done," I agreed.
As soon as the words left my mouth, it was like a switch was flipped. We both laughed loudly, me cackling, and Nile wheezing like she couldn't breathe. For awhile, I couldn't breathe because I was laughing so hard. Mr. Burbage shot us both a look that only made me laugh harder and made Nile sound like she was having an asthma attack.
When we finally finished laughing, she smiled and extended her hand.
"It's nice to meet you again, Carter."
"You too Nile Rivers," I greeted, shaking her hand which was soft and calloused.
She grinned at me and in the back of my mind I knew I found another friend.