6:59 (7 page)
Authors: Nonye Acholonu,Kelechi Acholonu
Dad stared up at me with a confused expression on his tanned face. “You don't know? Or are you too trashed to remember?” His words made me take a step back. Where was the hostility coming from?
“I have no idea what you're talking about,” I said firmly. “And I am in no way trashed, Dad.”
Dad rolled his eyes and went back to directing the workers. Mila stood up and walked over to me. “There was a peculiar earthquake in our home last night, sweetheart. It seemed to rumble the furniture and break windows. But we're all safe now.”
I nodded, knowing I slept through the whole thing. Great. What if a bookshelf had fallen on top of my father and I was idiotically sleeping like a baby. I really needed to get this whole blackout thing checked out.
“Get on to school,” Mila was saying. “We've got this place taken care of.”
I nodded and gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry I wasn't able to be of any help, Mila,” I said with a frown.
Mila shook her head. “Don't worry about it. You were just busy sleeping, honey,” she said.
****
Olive was at her locker when I turned the corner. She wore a hot pink sweater and dark jeans that made her legs look as if they went on for miles. I smiled to myself, popped in a breath mint, and then walked over to her.
“Hey, Olive,” I said with a bright smile.
Olive wouldn't look at me. She kept her gaze on her locker and continued shoving the books in forcefully.
I didn't know what to do. I knew for a fact that she'd heard me and was ignoring me. Desperately I tried to remember what I did wrong. As I searched my brain for answers, Olive slammed her locker door shut and headed down the hallway.
“Olive, wait!” I cried out, hearing the desperate crack in my voice. Why was she treating me like this? What did I do wrong?
Olive spun around and marched back up to me, allowing me to finally exhale. But my face immediately froze when I saw the look of pure anger on her brown face.
“You scared the crap out of me last night, Cam,” she snapped, jabbing her finger into my chest. “The sound of constant gun shots kept running through my brain and I couldn't get the image of three gangsters whaling on you out of my mind.” She stepped up closer to me. “
Never again
, Cam. Do you hear me?”
I heard her. But I did
not
understand a word she'd just said. Three gangsters were whaling on me? Gun shots? What was she talking about? And why in the world was she calling me Cam again?
“W-what are you talking about?” I asked her.
Olive's eyes narrowed and she let out a shriek. “Get your act together!” she screamed, then she walked away.
My jaw hit the floor. Olive
never
got mad at me â even when I'd flushed all of her dolls down the toilet.
“What was
that
all about?” Armando asked, stepping up beside me.
I peered up at him, knowing my face was a dead giveaway to my utter and complete shock. “I have
no
idea, Armando,” I said. “She's mad at me because I scared her. She said something about gun shots and me getting beaten up by gangsters.”
Armando scratched his chin. “Perhaps she was dreaming,” he said simply. “She probably had a nightmare and it followed her into reality. Happens all the time.”
“Hey, that makes a lot of sense,” I said.
“Right?” he said, clapping me on the shoulder.
Armando had a point. There were countless times when I would wake up thinking I had super powers or a brand new car. Olive probably dreamt that I was getting beaten up, and freaked.
The thought of her actually caring about my well-being made me smile. She was that frightened, she thought it was real. I didn't blame her. If I ever saw Olive in danger in my dream, I would probably still be shaking.
“So can I come over tonight?” Armando asked as we began walking down the hallway.
I nodded my head nonchalantly. “Sure,” I said. “Just make sure you leave before seven. My dad has a policy.” I knew what I said was utter bull, but I didn't want to tell him the truth; that he had to leave before I blacked out.
“Will do,” he said.
When we went our separate ways, I went in search of Olive again. In AP English, she was there thankfully, but she was sitting next to some other kid â not in her regular seat by mine. I let my questioning gaze fall on hers, and she quickly averted her gaze.
After class, I went looking for Olive but she sped out of the classroom faster than I'd ever seen her run.
Throughout the rest of the day, I couldn't sit still. Olive was still mad at me. You'd think she'd get over her stupid dream by now, but no, she was still on her let's-avoid-Cameron game.
After school, Armando and I lounged on my couch, eating junk food and watching the football game.
“She's
still
avoiding you?” Armando asked me, jamming a fistful of chips into his mouth. The leftover crumbs fell onto the squeaky clean carpet.
I nodded. “She won't even look at me,” I said, feeling sad.
Armando lay back on the couch, sighing. “She'll get over it. In a matter of time, she'll come to her senses and realize that her being mad at you is stupid. Just give it some time.”
I nodded and tried to block out thoughts of Olive by watching the game. It was no use. Throughout the rest of the afternoon, all I could think about was Olive. My mind was so completely consumed with her, that I almost forgot about the time. It was 6:55 pm.
“Crap, Armando, you have to go!” I said, standing up quickly.
Armando looked at the time. “Oh, right, that seven o'clock thing.” He stood up and grabbed his shoes. “I'll see you tomorrow, dude.”
“Yeah, see ya,” I said, almost pushing him out of the house.
The door couldn't shut fast enough. I managed to look at the time and see it turn to 6:59 right as I blacked out.
Cam
I woke up on the middle of the floor, face down. Odd. Usually I'm half-naked in bed. Well, at least I was clothed.
The doorbell ringing snapped me out of my confused thoughts. I always hated that stupid bell. It was soâ¦
Victorian-ish
. Brushing my hand through my non-gelled hair (I could've sworn it was gelled last night), I rose to my feet and strolled over to the door, cracking it open to the width of barely a foot.
“What do you want?” I asked the tall Spanish-looking dude standing on the porch.
His happy expression immediately contorted into a confused frown as he cocked his head to the side, eyeing me suspiciously. “Hey, uh, sorry, Cameron, for coming back after seven, I just forgot my hat andâ”
“It's Cam,” I interrupted, annoyance radiating throughout my body. “Why do you people keep calling me
Cameron
?” I swear, if another kid calls me Cameron again, I'll kill him.
The guy's eyes widened, his eyebrows spiking up in shock. But the surprised expression was quickly replaced with that of nonchalance. “Oh, yeah, sorry about that Cam,” he said, coughing into his fist. His amber eyes peered into mine, making it appear as if he were silently drawing conclusions about me in his head.
He seemed to be staring at my hair. I cleared my throat, startling him back to reality. “Again, what do you want?” I snapped, wanting to roll my eyes back into my head. I didn't have any time for weird people. I had things to do. Places to be.
His head apparently out of the clouds, the guy addressed me again, a smile appearing on his tan face. “Yeah, uh, sorry, I just forgot my hat, and I wanted to grab it real quick,” he said in a rush. He seemed embarrassed about his weird behavior, which I respected. He
was
acting kinda weird.
I shrugged my shoulders and shoved open the thick door. “Alright, go get it,” I said coolly. I knew he wouldn't steal anything. He seemed like a nice guy. You see, I've been around some pretty shady people, and by the look of this guy, I could tell he wouldn't even steal someone's thunder.
“Hey, thanks, man,” he said, the wide smile still remaining on his lips. I stepped aside as he walked into the house, his tall frame about three inches shorter than the doorway. I closed the door once he was inside and began walking back toward the living room, the Spanish guy trailing behind me.
“I'm Armando, by the way,” he said, holding out a large hand as we headed down the corridor.
I ignored the hand due to the fact that I don't
do
handshakes. Or formal greetings of that matter. “Sup,” was my only response to his outstretched hand.
Armando nodded, catching my drift as he shoved his hand back into his jeans pocket. As we entered into the living room, he immediately spotted his hat, snatched it up, and placed it back on his head. However, even though he had retrieved his hat, he made no motion to leave. He just stood there awkwardly, hands in his pocket, as I plopped down on the couch, grabbed the remote control, and began flipping through the channels on the TV.
“You forget something else?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the TV.
He shrugged nonchalantly. “No, I've got everything,” he said, nodding his head again.
I waited for him to leave. But he didn't.
What was his problem
?
I looked up at him, only to catch him eyeing my hair again. He was really getting on my nerves. “So, buddy, do you need anything else orâ”
“Hey, the game's on, like,
now
,” he interrupted, quickly shifting his eyes to meet mine. “Quick, change it to the sports channel.” And without any other words, he shrugged off his backpack, placed it on the floor, and plopped down on the nearby couch, grabbing a handful of chips and shoving them into his mouth.
I watched as he chewed, trying to decipher whether this guy was some kind of convict or just plain stupid. Who was this kid, just strolling into my house like that? He lay back as if he owned the place. I could tell he had no plans to leave any time soon and wouldn't take well to being kicked out.
My kind of man.
I immediately liked this kid. He was cool, laid back, and awesome looking with his amber eyes and such. He was legit.
“Hey, pass the chips,” I said, making myself comfortable on the couch.
Without taking his eyes off the TV, Armando tossed me a single chip that landed near my couch.
We both stared at it on the floor, not saying anything. “One chip? What is that?” I asked, pointing to the lone chip and trying to suppress my laughter.
Armando shrugged innocently. “I already claimed this bowl,” he said, scarfing up handful after handful of chips. “Get your own.”
I laughed, shaking my head at this guy's nerve. “You're an idiot,” I said, reluctantly getting up and heading for the kitchen. But before I left, I spit a loogie into his bowl, bursting out in laughter when Armando glared at me.
“You're dead, Cam,” he said smiling, and, standing quickly to his feet, he grabbed me into a chokehold, playfully inducing a wrestling match.
We laughed and laughed as we wrestled each other, the match super adrenaline charged as well as super difficult. This guy had moves. It all ended after I pulled his hair and socked him in the stomach simultaneously. Armando cried mercy as I finally pinned him to the floor.
“Alright, alright” he panted, laughing in spurts, “I've had enough.” He clenched his stomach as he tried to stand up again.
“People just can't get over the fact that I'm awesome,” I said, brushing off my clothes and running a hand through my hair. I laughed as I headed to the kitchen in search of some more chips where I immediately came in contact with Mila.
She was baking some cookies and stuff in the oven, her back towards me. “Hey, maid,” I blurted out, smacking her lightly on the butt. She let out a tiny
oof
and spun around to face me, a glare contorting her otherwise motherly face as she met my eyes. “Get me a bowl of chips,” I said smiling cockily.
Red in her cheeks, she huffed and headed over to the cupboard as I took a seat at one of the kitchen chairs. “Never touch me like that again, Cam,” she warned, grabbing a bag of chips and tossing them at me. She was always so haughty with me, it was annoying.
“I know you liked that, Mils,” I said winking at her and licking my lips seductively. She might be older, but she was young once. And I'm hot; no one can resist my charm.
Then I suddenly remembered the girl, Olive, from last night. I pictured her long, flowy hair and big, brown eyes, knowing full well that even she couldn't resist my charm. I mean, I knew I couldn't resist
hers
.
I quickly shook her image out of my head before I began salivating all over the kitchen table. On second thought, maybe I
should
think about this chick; my drool would just make Mila's job harder. I laughed at the cunning thought, grabbing up the bag of chips and popping them open. “Hey, maid, bring me a bowl!” I barked out, snatching up some chips and tossing them into my mouth. “What part of
a bowl of chips
do you not understand, woman?” I was talking with a full mouth, the crumbs falling out of my mouth and onto the squeaky-clean marble table.
Mila huffed and turned to the cupboard again, grabbing a bowl and hurling it at me. Well, at my head, primarily.
But I was too quick.
Using my telekinesis powers, I ripped the bowl out of the air and tossed it smoothly at me, making her otherwise lethal throw appear as if it were nothing but a subtle toss in my direction. Catching it swiftly, I placed it on the table and began to pour the chips into it. “Thank you, madam,” I said coolly.
Mila stared at me for a moment and for a second I thought she'd seen me use my powers. But then she just rolled her eyes and went on to her baking and stuff as Armando entered into the kitchen.
