MEKHI

Chapter One (Edited)

Ariana Brown

present time

"Ms. Brown!"

Ms. Mathers's shrill voice jolted me out of my sleep. A few of my peers chuckled at me as I tried to regain my composure. I was in my Media Criticism class, and I had completely fallen asleep.

"It would be much appreciated if you could stay awake in my class," she glared.

I sighed, "I apologize, Ms. Mathers."

Ms. Mathers, not giving two shits about my apology, went on, "Now, as I was saying, your project will be due—"

My name is Ariana Brown, and I'm your typical New Yorker. Born and raised in the Bronx without my parents and bounced from foster home to foster home until age eighteen.

I don't know much about my parents—hell I don't even know how they look. The least they could have done was left a picture of themselves and their names so I could have some connection to them.

But, no.

I go to Fordham University, and I am a senior majoring in Communications and Economics. It was nothing but blessings that got me into this school.

Well, that and my best friend, Seneca Peterson. She was a preppy girl I met during high school and the two of us became fast friends. She connected me with the best tutors to pull up my GPA in high school, got internships during the summer, and helped me apply to colleges in my senior year. She was my angel in disguise if I'm being completely honest.

The coffee I bought this morning was pitifully cold as I walked onto the subway, en route home to change into my work clothes.

That was mostly the reason why I could barely pay attention in class. I was working a call-center job on top of finishing my last year of uni.

My phone started to ring, and it was Seneca.

"Hey, Ari! How are you doing today?"

"I could be better. A little tired," I said.

"Last year's kicking ass isn't it?"

"Kicking ass is an understatement. I can barely keep up with these projects. My professors are making my head spin and testing my patience," I laughed.

"I hate to hear that Ari. You coming to work today?" Seneca asked.

"Yes, I have to make my rent payment on time unless I want to be homeless,"

"You know I could always—"

"Seneca, no. You've done enough. I want to provide for myself,"

"I know, but even the strongest of the strong need a support system. You know I got you right?"

"I know, and I appreciate it," "I'm at my stop. I'll see you in two hours."

"Bet, bye,"

Valentine's Day decor filled New York's streets as I walked to my apartment building in Manhattan. Another Seneca doing, but it was nice and I couldn't complain. It was way better than a foster home.