Chapter 2
I'm very sorry to say that my life is not a bowl of cherries. It is more like bumping on a bad road. Although you get some stones in cherries, the red flesh is sweet and juicy. As for a bumpy road as my life is concerned, well, get your derrier ready for impact.
When I was a kid, my mum whipped me with a belt for everything ranging from forgotten house chores to bad grades (which meant a B when i could have got an A) to Brandon's involvement in another gang activity. One time Brandon only followed some classmates of his on a short cycling trip about town, and my mum still hasn't forgiven him for it just because he didn't ask for her permission. Come on, this isn't such a terrible felony to warrant the death sentence, and at my brother's age, you'll expect him to hang out with his buddies more often rather than being cooped up with a prison of books all around you. Well, that's what Brandon thinks about books, thus leading to more bad grades and more lashings. I try my best, but I'm not spared of the brunt of her anger.
I think it is more of dad's fault than mum's that we have to live like this. Direct hurt is bad enough but neglect is worst. My father who should be the head of the family and the man of the house is rather spends his time in the office to avoid mum's antics rather than face up to her and say that enough is enough. To me, he's no man, but a coward. A shameless coward. And whenever Brandon actually stays up late enough to see him come home, and starts chewing him out, dad just puts on a fake smile and promises all kinds of activities like father-son camp-out next weekend or a nice family dinner at some fancy French restaurant in town. Trust me, all his promises and attempts to mend the cracks are fantastical.
So mum is left to deal with the garbage. Or so she calls it. As she is doing now...
"I can't believe I have to do all this rubbish!" she screams so loudly that I'm sure our neighbours can hear us. "Your stupid dad hides in his office to drink and leaves all the dirty work to your mother! You forgot to take the trash out again! You want me to dump it on your bed so that you can sleep with it?" "I'm sorry." I murmur. But she swipes at me with her infamous belt and I dodge it. "Shut up, fool!" she yells. "Saying sorry is nothing if you don't change, just like your brother. Saying sorry just to shut me up, or shedding crocodile tears is foolish! You think you have a maid at home right? No TV and no computer for two weeks, and if I see you on those two, I'll kill you with my bare hands. You get me?" "I don't watch TV and my computers under repairs." I say rather sadly as I trudge upstairs. I feel disappointed with my mum sometimes. But at least she held the fort without giving up when dad was still clinging to the bottle. There's a high rate of divorce cases nowadays and none of them are pretty.
The next day, I sit down at class in school once more. Tom comes in and winks at me. He does it when Samantha comes around. I'm not sure why he does it, but maybe he assumes that I have a crush on her. I refuse to comment on the matter as in doing so I may be proved as a liar.
"Hi, Samantha." I say. "Hi, Abel." she says with a smile. I don't remember a time I caught her without a smile. Even her eyes dance with laughter. No wonder even the bullies at school don't bother her nor harass her as they would do to other girls. Beetee used to tell me that God sent angels down to earth in the form of good kind individuals who somehow have this unusual aura of goodness and peace about them. Just like Samantha. She's polite, gentle and not cursing like other brusque gals who are influenced by MTV and bad boys. Furthermore, she prefers trousers whereas many girls in our class come in wearing shorts that are so short that you could mistake them for wearing undergarments. Samantha really like sunflowers despite the majority of the females preferring boyfriends and cosmetics...
"Hey, daydreaming again?" Tom muses as he flips the pages to his notes. "No, just-" I begin to say. "I know, that mum of yours and all." he says calmly as if he were drinking a cup of tea. "Since when did I tell you my family secrets?" I pout. "Come on, anyone can tell with one look on your face. You come to school without a smile, but after setting your eyes on Samantha, you go home happy." he says jokingly. "You can be right." I admit seriously. Then we spot Samantha looking at us questioningly as if she had overheard us and Tom guffaws, much to my chagrin.
Later during break, I spot Samantha carrying a big stack of books to her locker. "Need help?" I say. "No thanks." she grunts. But in the end, I take half the pile and help her carry it. "You know, a helpful and kind boy like you shouldn't always look so sad." Samantha says as she shuts and locks her locker. My eyebrows curve with confusion. Too many people have commented on the general look on my face today. "You know, you're right." I brighten up. "What's your secret to keep smiling every day?" "The little things," she says. "Things like flowers, colours, kindness and the good deeds people do. You should look for that every day and that will keep you going." Samantha beams. "That's deep." I say. "No, it just needs you to be more alert." she corrects me. Then that sunny smile flashes across her face again, and I feel blissful. Samantha says cordially, "I'm having a house party next week. Want to come?"
House party? Never had one before. The last one I went to was at Tom's and it was fun. "Alright, if I don't have anything else to do." I say, but she cuts me off, "No ifs. See you next week!" Then off she goes with her neat ponytail swinging merrily.