Lessons || Chapter 24

                                    

                                          
            
                          
Author's Note: Any italics signal memories and feedback is appreciated. 
                          
==
                          
THE KID 
                          
I'd always remember the very first time Leslie killed someone. Six years back in this compound. Some dumbass Ganja smoker made the wrong detour, somehow landing in my fortress. All kinds of backup swarmed this idiot. He called himself Jo-Jo and miserably failed to threaten my lady with a midget knife. Piglet took out this silver revolver, cornered that dude, and boosted the weapon under his chin before pulling back quickly. 
                          
A second later, one deafening gunshot rang. My eyes popped for once. His lifeless body spilled out with blood on the cold concrete floor beneath all our steps. Experts I employed hurried in to rid of his corpse properly. We all looked back to find Leslie gone from the space. 
                          
I looked to find newbies Darryl and Max surprised. There was only silence between me and the people behind this wooden desk. I offered moments for these guys to absorb these details and leaned back in my favorite chair. My eyes sadly watched the ceiling overhead.  
                          
"Wait, Nelson. Did you just say that Jo-Jo used marijuana?" Max squinted while addressing me. Darryl lowered his head in shame. I nodded in silence and faced a corner of the room. "But Calvin smokes..." his voice trailed off and Max shook his head in disbelief. 
                          
"She hates Ganja." Darryl hissed ignorantly. My blood boiled due to his reasoning. From the look in Max's eyes, I knew he couldn't handle anymore nonsense. Just the member we needed. I allowed him debate his friend, who already lowered his head once more. 
                          
"Are you insane, Darryl?" Max shouted out loud "That's wasn't the point of his explanation. Calvin smokes weed, drinks and killed Leslie's father. One poor habit led to madness. Do you think Leslie would let anybody else get killed that day? I don't know. Maybe you should just go home. Being that naïve will kill you." 
                          
"I'm not leaving." Darryl asserted, folding his arms. "We came here together. When Calvin's zipped up in a body bag, we're leaving together, Max." 
                          
I spoke up out of nowhere and frustration had reached my thoughts. Darryl looked up at me with narrowed eyes. "How could you say something like that when you can't even put details together? Leslie felt threatened and took matters into her own hands. I would've done the same thing. Jo-Jo came into my place with a weapon. Did you forget that, Darryl? What was she supposed to do?" 
                          
"Killing him with a gunshot was too much." This boy whined. "She murdered someone over a knife. That's not fair." I couldn't believe his words and rubbed down my face. Even Max walked off this completely different end of the room for a second. 
                          
"So, you'd rather deal with the chance of being sliced open?" I cringed asked, Max didn't return for his seat just yet. I completely understood. 
                          
"She could've kicked it out of his hand or something, Kid. Confiscated it at least." Darryl failed to understand my way of thinking. Max plopped back into the chair beside his friend a few minutes later. I'd never felt edgy with a student before. If Darryl really wanted to help, these counterarguments had to end at some point. 
                          
"Do you want Calvin dead or not, brother?" I shook my head, facing Darryl eye to eye. Max folded his own arms this time and turned to glare at his friend. Silence returned. 
                          
"More than anything." Darryl whispered. "Leslie and Yvonne can't live out of suitcases forever." We all hushed right now and not one person spoke up again. Or at least not for a while. 
                          
__
                          
MARCUS FRANKLIN 
                          
Calvin healed up quite some time later. Scarring left a few pains here and there, but doctors medicated little brother early. With my suffocating reminder of him taking those daily pills and other rules from the doctors, this curing method worked faster than the pace of a shooting star. We now hid somewhere in New York. A motel separated from the big city. 
                          
Thanks to his obvious scarring, Calvin winced before stretching out his leg on the bed across from me. We feasted on classic hotdogs without a snag around the dive cookers. Cal rolled back his eyes at the nostalgic taste. I chuckled while dipping fried potato wedges into ketchup. 
                          
"Les and I used to scarf these down in high school and she never gained weight. For real." Calvin laughed for the first time since his injury healed. I nodded while he reminisced. The locked front of this place littered with peeling wood every time I looked in that direction.  
                          
Leslie and I met when Calvin bought his first gun from me. "Tell Me Something Good" by Chaka Khan and Rufus funked in the store. We both donned unashamed sideburns and afro hair. Leslie glided her path into my "convenience store" with bell bottom jeans and Jane Kennedy eyes. I'd been so fixated on her pretty orbs and beautifully dark skin that Calvin snapped his fingers to lead to me out of shock. 
                          
"Yo, Marcus! Stop drooling at my lady. I know she's fine and you're not the first brother to notice, but damn. Are you going help me or not?" I shook my head to clear of the dazing. Inward coughing somehow worked uneasiness out of my throat. 
                          
I nervously chewed my bottom lip toward Leslie. My feet somehow walked from behind the counter and switched the dangling sign from "opened" to closed. Very few consumers visited this mart today anyhow. I never felt comfortable selling these weapons out in the open. Mama always hated open sales for these guns even when Pop ran this place years and years back. "Scaring kids is out of the question," she'd always tell me. I listened and never changed my mind. 
                          
All of kinds of guns lined the hidden room after Leslie and Calvin walked in. But his heart set on a revolver as we discussed. One flash of his license and a few more checkups later, Calvin Joe Smith walked out as a first-time gun owner. 
                          
If only I knew the approaching damage.