Michael
Chapter Three
"Michael!" Emily's voice pierces the quiet hallway of Evergreen Valley High School.
Evergreen Valley High is a college preparatory private school. I'm here on a sports scholarship for basketball, of course, I was also invited to attend here at little to almost no cost. It was almost an honor for me to attend here, or so I overheard from the principal when he was talking to a couple of school administrators during my first day here.
"You have a d-dog?" Ben's voice appears behind me. I take a second to pay attention to Max, who now is sitting quite close to my right leg.
"His name is Max," I open my locker and take out books for subjects I've already brushed up and perfected. I'm not necessarily a jack of all trades, but I do have hidden talents among random subjects.
"Why didn't you tell us that you were getting a service dog?" Emily bent down slightly with her palm out.
"Kushoto kwangu," I order, Max immediately stands up and slowly make his way to my left, ignoring Emily.
"You speak that Lion King thing?" Emily stands straight.
I turn my head over my shoulder and in my clear peripheral, I can see Ben with his eyebrows knitted together.
"Swahili, Em, he's speaking Swahili," Ben shakes his head and looks back at me, I take the liberty to shut my locker once all my things are in order.
"Whatever," she rolls her eyes, "why does he speak Swahili?"
I begin to walk off, "Njoo," being my only command before hearing his paws tap the ground as he follows behind me. Emily and Ben follow suit.
"So anyone who speaks English can't give him commands," I keep my eyes ahead.
I've been told repeatedly that it's apparently creepy when I don't move my eyes. Most of the time, they are in a constant static state. Only cases where I move my eyes is when others look directly into them, due to poor eye contact skills.
But as I walk down the hallway, I can't help but notice each and every face of students and teachers just as I pass them. Faces that mean absolutely nothing to me, faces of people that know me but I couldn't care about.
Based on notes I've mentally taken, I've noticed that I am looked up to. The other boys on the basketball look to me for guidance with many situations, both personal and academic. I am the captain of the basketball team, but I've seen how they constantly flow through me.
"Hey, Cap," Robin, a member of the team, passes by me in the hallway. At the last second, I see that he looks down at Max.
"Yo, Captain, you got a dog?" Dean, another member, walks up to me alongside Oliver, who has been disappointing me during practice.
No shit, I have a dog.
"Yeah?" I raise an eyebrow.
"No shit, he's got a dog, Dean," Emily walks in front of me and Max, blocking Max from Dean's view.
"Got a problem with that?" she asks and she flinches her fist forward at him. He flinches back a bit before scoffing at her.
"Emily, chill," Ben looks around the hallway. His olive cheeks merging into a crimson red.
"People are looking," Ben mumbles.
Two people were looking at her and it was just a quick glance over at Max. That's all it was.
"Chill it, Blondie," Dean and Oliver walk away and I roll my eyes.
Emily's erratic behavior annoys me on a low level, but nonetheless. I'd prefer someone quieter, someone, like Ben. But she's my friend.
I do not understand her actions, but I try my best.
"Blondie, who the hell does he think he is? I got a name, and it's not Blondie," she mumbles. She continues on and then suddenly, yet expectedly, Ben begins to argue back on her constantly talking bullshit. They go at each other's necks behind me now.
My attention, on the other hand, settles on a certain 5'7, dark tanned, curvaceous- easy on the adjectives. So true, yet excessive. Well, It's not like I can help it. I don't ride my Mom's car, I drive my Mom's white BMW X2 xDrive28i. I don't travel on planes, I travel on a Boeing 717.
Adjectives and other descriptive titles is somewhat a preference of mine.
I see her walking toward me with her friend, Chantelle, behind her. Yesterday's fiasco of her yelling about wanting me to take her...quite the highlight of my day yet the disruptive chapter of it as well.
I've never thought of Alma lusting after me.
Her eyes stay glued to the ground as they both walk towards us, Ben and Emily continue to argue, talking over each other, making it hard to decipher what each is saying.
"You do this every day."
"Shut up."
"If Michael wasn't here..."
"You talk like you wanna fight but when it's time to put your dukes up, you pussy away."
Their voices, loudly perceived by me, rummage through my head alongside the other conversations of people we pass by in the hall. Their voices crushing my concentration, the banging of lockers shut, footsteps hitting the ground, the eventual scream of some loudmouth talker...
Max can feel my tension and digs his nose into my empty palm. Patting his head twice, he remains close to my right leg, eventually calming my nerves.
"Good boy."
"Oh, look, there's the man who you begged to take you, girl," From about ten feet's away, I hear Chantelle say aloud while bumping Alma with her elbow.
Alma automatically lifts her head with wide eyes as our eyes meet.
I have this miraculous ability, me being the Miracle De Rossi that I am.
Let's get one thing straight, all of the lobes and branches in my brain were affected in some form or another due to the brain trauma.
Due to trauma to the frontal cortex, basal ganglia, and parietal cortex, just to name a few, my perception of time can be...adjusted.
At any time, if I will it, I can slow down time in my head.
I will it.
Time automatically slows down, noises slightly cancel to the point where it sounds like a low grumble, and I look at Alma's face.
This is where the clear peripheral vision comes in handy. Her whole body, including the scene around her, comes in clear like a photo. Her eyes, I've never seen golden brown and honey eyes. I'm not sure if she has heterochromia, along with Ben, but the unique design of her eyes must have been handcrafted by God.
Her physique, so tall yet frail. Her size small uniform looks a tad baggy on her body. Her skirt rolled up, not due to her wanting to look cute, but for it to fit her dainty waist.
Though her body looks as skinny as I've ever seen her, her cheeks still hold their usual chubby nature.
Mom used to cradle her cheeks whenever Alma came by after school. Her nose always red from rubbing it whenever she was nervous and her hair combed back into pigtails, with an exception from a few rebellious strands.
Alma is not meant to be skinny. It's not in her DNA. She's meant to be curvy, much like Emily, not in her own way.
Her being Latina, I would have expected her to embrace her curves. But lately, I'm not so sure.
I move my attention back to her eyes.
Dilated. Utter and completely dilated. Her forehead sweaty, her face drained of its beautifully toned color.
Very slowly, I notice that her hand makes its way to her stomach and her mouth opens agape.
I will time to move normally again. To them, time hasn't even skipped a beat, to me, I've seen everything I've needed to see.
The unfortunate part of slowing down time is the noise that hits you when you return it to normal. Like a slap to the face, I cringe at the loudness echoing in the halls.
"Oh hi, Michael," Chantelle nudges Alma, with a smile, who appears to be frozen, her hand lying completely still on her stomach.
"Oh, God, you," Emily hisses. It's a no-brainer she doesn't like Alma...but that could be my fault. I say nothing.
"Uh..." Alma mutters under her breath, her eyes still on me, mine now on Max who is sitting between the both of us, looking back forth at us.
"Are you..." I take a step toward her when a bad feeling, one I've never felt before, settles into my chest. Something I've never felt. It was like my heart was dying? More like feeling heavy, it was like I was drowning.
Max whimpers and stands up. He nudges my leg with his nose.
Like fate, Alma bends over forward and vomits on my chest, pants, shoes, and on the floor. A mixture of yellow and green, my eyebrows crease.
An eruption of 'ew's fill the atmosphere as everyone backs away and watches with widened eyes. I see some cell phones being taken out of pockets.
"Anyone take a video or picture of this and so help me God!" I make a fist whilst clenching my jaw and like magic, everyone shoved their phones back into their pockets.
It quiets down as Alma slowly makes her way back up. Her eyes widen even further as she sees the mess she's made and just like that, her eyes lose their vibrancy. I know this look.
Of all of the months my father and I have exercised together to achieve my athleticism, I know this look like the back of my hand.
I rush forward as Alma's eyes roll to the back of her head and her body falls to the ground, I catch her in my arms before she hits the floor. Screams from a couple of girls cut into the air and a bunch of other loud yellings occurs, but I pay them no mind.
"Alma," I brush away the baby hairs sticking to her forehead. Keeping her an inch away from my chest, I rest her head in my arm.
I check her pulse on her wrist and curse under my breath. Her pulse is just a bit weak. I move my hand up to her forehead...feels pretty hot.
"What's going on?" A voice I recognize as the nurse, thank you, Mom, for having us vigorously reacquainted every parent-teacher conference, comes from in back of me.
Nurse Joana kneels in front of us.
"Her pulse is a bit weak, she's clammy, and she has a fever. As you can see and smell, she vomited bile, we should call my parents," I say as I transfer her from my arms to Joana's as to not get her dirtier than she already is.
"Your parents?"
"Her parents are in Thailand," yeah, I stay updated on where her parents are. So what?
"And? That means we call another relative," Joana lies Alma down on her back.
"In the case of an emergency, and they are not in the country, Regina and Robert De Rossi, my parents, are her guardians. They're on her emergency contact list in the school records," Facts.
When Alma and I became very close friends, her parents met with mine and since my parents are extremely trustworthy and responsible in their eyes, they decided to entrust them with Alma and her little sister if anything happens with a trust fund they left them if so they need the money and some bodyguards.
"Oh, alright." She nods. "Call your parents," I immediately pull my phone out.
As the phone rings, I look up at everyone, my eyes moving as minimally as possible.
You could hear a pin drop. I clench my jaw and automatically, some gasps enter and the crowd dissipates as everyone rushes to their classes prematurely. Once the only people in the hallway are Emily, Ben, Max, the nurse, and I....and Alma...I sit contently with the quiet air.
"Shouldn't you to go to class?" Joana looks back at them both.
"She's our fri-" Ben begins to say.
"No, she isn't, Sweetheart. Don't try to bs a staff member that listens to your teen angsty problems that you constantly talk about in the nurse's office when you think she's not listening," Joana rolls her eyes and focus back on Alma.
Noh Emily and Ben's eyes widen. Not once has my gaze left Alma, with an exception of dispersing the crowd.
"Max," his ears rise. "Hofu," I snap my fingers.
Immediately, he bares his teeth at Ben and Emily. Ben standing up cautiously, Emily still kneeling, away from the puddle of vomit on the ground.
With a clenched jaw, I utter, "Hofu zaidi."
Max begins to violently bark at Emily specifically. This causes her to flinch back, this causes Ben, on the other hand, to run in the other direction.
"Fine, damn," Emily huffs and walks away to where Ben disappeared to. Gotta admit, kid can run so fucking fast.
"Kijana mzuri," he wags his tail and sits back down with his tongue hanging out.
Good boy.