Page 8 of Pride High

She clutched her books closer to her body as if mentally hugging Anthony. “Okay.” Her attention flitted over to him. “Omar,” she said tersely.

Oh yeah. She definitely remembered. “Hey, how’s it going?” he replied in his best bedroom voice.

Mindy looked repulsed before pushing past him on her way into the classroom.

“Wanna switch partners?” Omar asked. “Me and her have real chemistry together.”

Anthony laughed. “No thanks.”

The bell rang, causing them both to groan. They bumped elbows without much enthusiasm and trudged into the classroom.

“Welcome back, gentlemen,” Mr. Finnegan said.

“Hey,” Omar replied, heading for his table.

The weird kid, Ricky, was already sitting there. His eyes kept darting to him and away again, as if he couldn’t work up the courage to make eye contact. Omar remembered how big and intimidating all the upperclassmen had seemed when he started high school. He puffed up his chest to make himself look buffer, and sure enough, the kid’s eyes opened wider.

“Hi, Omar,” Ricky said, sounding just as breathless as on the phone last night. “Do you want to meet in the library during lunch to do research?”

“No.” Omar sat and kept his attention focused elsewhere. What a question! It was bad enough that they had to meet after school to work on a stupid paper. He wasn’t giving up his only break to do even more studying!

“Okay,” Mr. Finnegan said. “I mentioned yesterday that, when working for a newspaper, the editor will often assign a specific topic for you to report on. But it’s also possible that they’ll ask you to pitch them an idea. So let’s go table to table and hear what everyone decided to write about. Really try to sell it to me, as if you’re unsure if I’ll grant permission, because here’s the thing… I might not!”

Omar straightened up with a jolt. Then he leaned to his right to get Ricky’s attention. “I’ll let you do all the talking,” he said with a wink. “Really sell him on those killer robots, okay?”

Ricky nodded eagerly. Or he nodded in fear. Either way. Omar let himself relax again, already thinking about sixth period, and everything he wanted to do when the school day came to an end.

— — —

Omar’s heart was thudding with excitement as he rushed to his locker, spun the combination lock, and took out two of his greatest treasures: his skateboard and his camcorder. He was always eager to escape this place, but rarely as much as today. If he didn’t blow it this time… Who knew what could happen! Instead of shoving the camcorder into his backpack, he put his head through the strap, letting it lay across his chest like an ammunition belt, the camcorder resting against his hip. Then he did his best to leave as quickly as he could but kept running into people he hadn’t seen since last year. He made it outside eventually.

Despite how much of a hurry he was in, he paused and let the sun warm his skin. It was a beautiful fucking day. The school was always freezing inside, even more so in the summer, since they really cranked up the AC. Once he no longer felt like he’d just checked out of a morgue, Omar gleefully leapt down a set of stairs, dropped his board on the sidewalk, and stepped onto it. Soon he was gliding away from the school. He let himself baskin how free this made him feel before he slung his camcorder around on its strap and balanced it on his shoulder to film some B-roll. He didn’t have a particular need for the footage. Maybe he would use it to represent some disembodied spirit flying through the town in search of its next victim, like Sam Raimi did in theEvil Deadmovies.

Although it was too nice a day for that sort of thing. In any case, maybe he’d want to look back on the footage when feeling homesick, assuming he went to an out-of-state university like Anthony’s older brother had. And that seemed likely. All the good film schools were on the coasts. Places like California and New York. Although, as crazy as it sounded, he wasn’t eager to get away from this town. Omar had spent his entire life in Pride and never felt much urge to leave. He liked it too much. Everything he’d ever wanted was already here and conveniently easy to reach.

He left the residential neighborhood behind and cruised down the main road that ran through town. He passed a few of the big retail chains that were found in every American city. McDonald’s and Walgreens, that sort of thing. Mostly though, the people of Pride preferred to shop locally at businesses owned by their neighbors. The mayor had run a big campaign about that when Omar was a kid, which his father had talked about endlessly at the dinner table, since he owned the only prescription eyewear store in town. And intended to keep it that way. So far he’d managed to.

Even if his family didn’t benefit from such a thing, Omar still would have supported the cause. Everywhere else in Kansas looked kind of the same. Maybe not the Plaza and the downtown area, but all the suburbs outside of Kansas City had the same dumb stores and restaurants. As he cruised into the heart of Pride, Omar saw a number of specialty shops and cafés, most of which he associated with various families in town. He turned down Main Street, the two-story brick buildings filling each block without a space between them. They matched the brick streets that forced traffic to slow, making it easier for pedestrians to cross wherever they needed to. He stuck to the smooth pavement of the sidewalk for as long as he could until dodging shoppers became too tedious. Then he switched to his feet.

He slowed even more when nearing Right Round Records. Apink ten-speed bike was parked out front, chained to one of the old parking meters which no longer functioned. The bike could belong to anyone, but man did he hope it hadn’t been there long. He was tempted to touch the handlebars to see if they were still warm and sweaty before deciding that was too creepy. Instead he kept walking so he could check his reflection in the window of a florist. After making sure his hair wasn’t too windblown, he circled back around to the record store. He looked in that window too, as if unsure he wanted to shop there. He even tried to appear interested in one of the albums he saw, pretending it was his motivation for opening the door and going inside.

He maintained his cool disposition by not glancing at the counter. He simply browsed the nearest row of records. Time seemed to crawl by, and when he finally let himself check the counter to see who was working there… he was rewarded with a bald dome surrounded by a ring of straggly gray hair. Not exactly the vision of desire he’d been expecting. The customer was an older dude who was blocking his view. When the man finished buying whatever he’d come here for and walked away… There she was! Omar had just seen her half an hour ago at most, wearing the same lavender shirt tucked into pale-blue jeans. She was still messing with the cash register and didn’t notice him. That was fine. He hoped she hadn’t witnessed the dumb window-shopping performance he’d put on outside. Instead he resumed browsing and noticed with abhorrence that he was in the country music section.

That’s what he got for not paying attention! Omar moved deeper into the store to the alternative section that Anthony could spend a literal hour browsing without getting bored. His best friend had once gone through it alphabetically. Omar didn’t have that much time to spare, but he decided to do the same, so he wouldn’t run out of excuses for being there. The only other customer finally left. Omar’s palms began to sweat. What was he supposed to do now? How did he strike up a conversation with a girl that pretty?

“Can I help you find something?”

Oh Jesus! It sounded like she was standing right behind him!

Omar spun around, and yeah, she was close. A good six feet away, but still… it was near enough for him to take in the long dark hair that spilled over her shoulders and down her back. She had glistening russet lips, a cute button nose, and big brown eyes that awaited his response. He was getting serious Jennifer Connelly vibes, like how she looked inLabyrinth, but even better because her skin was darker, and oh fuck, why was she getting adorable crinkles between those gently arching eyebrows of hers? She had asked something, but it seemed like a million years ago already. What was the question?

“Hey!” she said while tilting her head. “Aren’t you in the same class as me? Sixth period, right?”

“Business finances?” he said as if uncertain. “Yeah! I think so. I’m uh…” His brain struggled to recall the one piece of information he should never forget. “Omar,” he finished at last.

“How funny,” she said with a smile. “If I’d known you were coming here, I could have given you a ride on my bike.”

“I would have loved that,” he said, not kidding in the slightest.

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