"Hero-Ish."

Chapter 4: This Ain't A Musical.

CHAPTER 4: This Ain't a Musical.

It was beautiful the next morning: the sun shone bright and its rays shot against the earth and turned everything into a deep black and made the ground sizzle from the humid heat. Every now and then clouds would cover the sun and the scenery in darkness. Other than that, it was another normal day as people went along with their daily lives.

Desmond and his mother sat in the principal's office of Edgewood high in mid-town Manhattan. Edgewood high school was located in midtown Manhattan, a few miles away from Hell's Kitchen. It was a three story building and started from Kindergarten and went straight to Senior year. Edgewood was one of the lowest high schools within the country, with the lowest test scores, lowest graduation rate and lowest attendance—50-100 people drop out almost every year. It was full of thugs, criminals, and had teachers that didn't care to teach and students who didn't care to learn.

The principal's office was medium-sized and full of bookshelves, along with a desk full of pictures—family mostly—and diplomas of various schools hung on the walls. Sitting behind the desk was the Queen of Hell herself, the principal—Principal Adler. She was a middle-aged woman with dark skin and curly brown hair and was dressed in a deep purple outfit.

"Ms. Reid," Adler began. She leaned forward and placed her hands together on the desk in front of her. "Let me assure you, that the staff has been notified about what happened two weeks ago and has been told directly not to allow any students to speak about what happened, and I can assure you, if they do, they will be punished."

Ms. Reid gave a small nod of her head.

"As for you, Mr. Reid," Principal Adler turned and faced Desmond. "Even though you were in the hospital for the last two weeks, this doesn't exclude you from your work—you missed weeks of assignments. I have, however, requested that you use your free period to make up for your missed work. Am I clear?"

Desmond's clenched his teeth and swallowed. He then jerked his head wildly and muttered, "Y—yes, ma'am."

"Good," she leaned back in her seat and folded her arms over her chest. "You're dismissed, Mr. Reid. If you leave no, you'll be able to make it before 2nd period ends."

Desmond stared at the principal and then looked towards his mother, who gave a nod of her head in confirmation. He then released a small exhale, stood to his feet, and grabbed his backpack. Finally, he exited the room, shutting the door behind him.

*

Desmond made it to class just as the bell rang. Students gathered their belongings and dispersed from the classroom; they shoved and pushed their way past him without a second glance, almost as if he were invisible to them—which was just how he liked it. Once the class emptied, Desmond approached the teacher, Mr. Evans—a slump, overweight, Caucasian male.

"Ah, Mr. Reid," Evans announced; he sounded as if he had a mouthful of food and a breathing problem. Evans rolled forward in his chair and grumbled, "Yes, well, they told us you'd be coming back. Here's your assignments," he handed Desmond a mountain full of papers in a folder with his name printed on a posted note.

Desmond grabbed hold of the paperwork and felt as though he held a small boulder in his hand; his arms dropped the moment it touched him. He flipped through the papers one by one until Mr. Evans spoke again.

"You have two weeks to complete everything, Mr. Reid," he said.

Desmond's eyes grew and his heart skipped a beat. "Two weeks?" He challenged.

Mr. Evans's lower lip moved as if he chewed something. "Do you have a problem with that, Mr. Reid?"

Desmond eyed his teacher but held his tongue. "No," he grumbled.

"Good," Mr. Evans snapped. "You're lucky you're not getting an automatic fail. However, considering the circumstances of your...situation...," he paused and his words drifted.

Desmond felt like his heart was on overdrive. Heat flustered through his chest and his face burned as if on fire. "Is that all, Mr. Evans?" He grumbled through gritted teeth.

"Yes," Mr. Evans stated. He raised his head from the desk and stared at the student in front of him. "You're bleeding, Mr. Reid."

Desmond raised his hand from the strap of his backpack and touched his finger to the bridge of his nostrils and upper lip. He pulled his hand away to find blood on his fingertips. His eyes flashed to Mr. Evans and then back to his fingers. He then turned and scurried out of the classroom, holding his nose.

Desmond made his way to the nearest men's restroom and cleared his face of the blood from his nose. Once he finished, Desmond headed towards his locker to get ready for his next class, which he was already late for.

*

Several hours passed and Desmond now found himself stuck in English class. The silence dragged on after the first fifteen minutes as Desmond tried to concentrate on the book in front of him. However, he found it almost impossible as he read the same line over and over again. His fingers gripped hold of the edges of his desk and his heart shifted around in his chest like a humming bird. His head vibrated like a shockwave and his vision swirled, almost as if he were trapped inside a tornado.

Once again nausea built its way into his stomach and curled its ways to his throat. Then, something snapped.

The room began to rumble, low at first, and then it grew and became more violent. The objects inside the room knocked and fell against the ground. The walls cracked and the lights popped; shards of glass descended like rain onto the students below.

Screams of panic shot through the students as they suddenly left their seats and climbed underneath their desks. Desmond, who quickly realized what happened, ducked underneath his seat as well and covered his head. Yet the moment he did, the convulsion ended.

Desmond, along with the other students, climbed out from underneath their desks and gazed around cautiously. Then, one by one, they filed out of the classroom as an alarm rang and pushed their way into the hallway.

*

Desmond came home sometime after the earthquake. The students were released and sent home for the day. As Desmond entered his apartment, he spotted his mother sitting on the couch, her eyes glued to the television screen. Her head turned and she suddenly stood to her feet and rushed to Desmond.

The two embraced one another; their arms wrapped around their bodies and their gripped tightened. The hug lasted only several moments before she pulled away and looked at Desmond.

"I just heard on the news," she said, holding back the tears. "Are you all right?"

Desmond eyed his mother and nodded. "Yeah," he lied. He gulped and licked his lips. "It was just weird."

"What was weird?"

Desmond paused for a moment and then answered, "It seemed only my class felt the earthquake; well, that and a few other classes by us."

"Well," his mother said, "at least you're okay." She placed a hand on his cheek and brushed her thumb against his skin. Subsequently after, she embraced him once more.