Imperial High

OBERON

Georgia, 1981

Bam bam! Bam bam bam! Bam bam! I was facing against the opponent and nothing else mattered. Focus was key. Belief was crucial. I was going to win. His guard was off, and I had already noted his pattern. He was going to move in with a jab then try and get me with a cross. I was ready.

"Oberon Djimal Isabis! What's that noise?"

I sighed and removed my gum gear and turned off my Walkman.

"It's nothing Grandma. Just practicing my combos and work-out routine."

She tutted disapprovingly. "You know how I feel about all that violent boxing you do. It's not safe."

I removed my gloves and wiped myself down. "It's only unsafe for people who can't box. It's a great sport Grandma. Its stress-releasing, boosts endurance and improves my upper-body strength. It's good for me."

What I wasn't going to tell her was that being a professional boxer and winning the WBC world welterweight title  had been my dream ever since I had seen Sugar Ray Leonard knock down Wilfred Benitez for it a couple of years ago.  

She sighed worriedly.

"I just came to tell you get ready for the day and water the plants after breakfast. Which reminds me, you didn't clear your room and grout the kitchen tiles like I told you to yesterday. The landlord's coming Obe, and I need everywhere to be spick and span."

I growled.

The landlord was a pompous bully whose cheap tacky suit didn't hide his ever-growing belly. He constantly harassed Grandma over rent and kept increasing the price so matter how many times we paid on time. I was just thirteen and I was working three jobs. I kept telling Grandma to sign into the Home for the Elderly that her friend owned, but she was adamant. According to her, it would be disrespectful to our ancestors if as the last living son of the Isabis legacy, I didn't have a proper upbringing and education.

"Don't worry Grandma. I'll make sure everything's ready for him. But if he tries any rubbish this time, I'm going to flatten him."

She chuckled and looked at me wistfully. "You remind me so much of your father. He always stood up for what he believed in, no matter the consequence.

I sighed. My father and mother, Kwame and Imani Isabis, owner of Isabis International, the world's top producer of crude oil and petroleum. Ironically, they died in an explosion that happened at one of their oil rigs, leaving their poor son an orphan at the tender age of 2 years. Luckily, my grandmother was located before I got handed over to another family. Unluckily, they hadn't written a will before they died, so the company was handed over to my dad's hand-picked aide who spent all the company's resources on acquiring drugs and selling it at impossible prices to dealers all over the world. Long story short, the company went bankrupt and my grandma and I were left with nothing except the small house she used to live in.

Like she had read my mind, she came over to hug me. "We can't blame them for what happened. At least I have you and we're surviving so far. Cheer up. I made you those Sloppy Joes that you love so much."

I forced a smile. "Well, let's go eat then. There isn't anything a couple of Sloppy Joes can't solve. 

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