sanctuary.

II: Stoners United

1/13/14

"I'm sorry about my mom last night." I apologized to Khailou the moment I walked into the classroom. He was standing alone by the doorway wearing a milky white smile matching the Converse hi tops on his feet. I also took notice that they were from the collaboration of Com De Gracon with a blood red heart sporting a pair of adjacent eyes. "Nice kicks." I added, continuing to stare at his sneakers.  I've been yearning for a pair ever since I bought the black ones on EBay and have been searching for the ones he had on.

"Dover Street Market." He replied nonchalantly, looking down at the Nikon in his hands. This gave me the opportunity to gawk helplessly at the rest of his attire.  Even though we had to wear uniforms, he made it seem so damn hot.  A pair of black chinos cuffed over his sneakers, a red polo shirt, and a black cardigan. His outfit complimented his gorgeous features perfectly as he leaned on the door frame  trying to do something with his camera. "Don't worry about it.  If I was your dad, I guess I would be pretty pissed my daughter was out at midnight with a guy." He commented, looking up from his camera as our eyes finally met.

"My father can give two shits less about me and my brother. He cares more about his half ass family down in Florida." I responded with a sigh, stepping past Khai as I slumped to my assigned seat.  The fact I had to bring up my dead beat father to Khailou caused me to regret entirely the two sentances I preached to him.  I don't need his pitty party, nor did I want anyone up my ass about pretty much not having a father in my life.

"Really?" He questioned taking the empty seat beside me as he set his camera down ok the table. "I've been living with my grandmother ever since I was probably able to speak. My mom didn't want to be tied down by a child. My grandmother would always tell me that she wanted to be an actress. But I later found out that she ended up being a prostitute. I guess I'm actually glad she kept me." He explained to me, looking up at the front of class room where the teacher still was present due to many people casually talking to their peers.

"So I stayed in Trinidad with my Grandmother until I was like five or something and then we came to America.  I was expecting by this time my mom would actually come back for me, but instead I have to find out on my own that she died from AIDS." He then concluded, once an adult darted into the class. Instead of our usual colorful, carfree, ginger haired teacher, Mrs. Grant.  In walked an older man sporting slacks and a sweater vest. His entire outfit looked gloomy with emotionless colors, and the stern look on his face made it obvious he wasn't here to play.

"Alright my name is Mr. Mensa, your teacher left this work for you guys to do." The sub announced before passing out the papers to the class and sitting down behind Mrs. Grants desk.  He then grabbed a paper from the desk, as he adjusted the wired rim glasses onto the bridge of his nose.

"Khayri Alphonse." He called out as Khaillou raised his hand, not even bothering to look up from his paper.  "Melissa Brown .... Jessie Cruz ...." He then called, as he continued down the sheet.

"Why do people call you Khaillou if you're name is Khayri?" I chuckled looking over at him with a slight smile.

"Tumblr and Lil B." He snickered before looking back at me to continue his story.  "But, I guess that's how weed became my safe haven, my escape from the normal world." He then whispered to me as the unidentified substitute took attendance. I nodded my head understandingly, before glancing over at the substitute still sitting behind the desk taking attendance.

"Tyler Laurén Wilson."

"Here." I responded with a hand raise, catching a smirk from Khai the side of my eye. "What are you all giddy for?" I questioned, taking a look back at he paper we where assigned to complete.