Summer Schooled

3: Ayla

Omari scared the hell out of me when he grabbed my shoulder. I thought he was trying to rob me or something. Stereotypical, I know, but who can blame me? He was a big brownskin boy with tattoos and a reputation for really messing people up. But aside from that, I was surprised he had even stopped me to talk. Maybe there was more to Omari than people gave him credit for. Nonetheless, I was completely confused, but kept walking to the water fountain.

"Wassup, shawty?" A voice I was almost too familiar with said behind me.

I paused the stream of water and rolled my eyes. It was Amir Hartwell. Amir was one of those guys that just wouldn't quit hitting on me if it would save his life. I never showed interest in him and constantly ignored him, but he clearly hadn't gotten the message.

"I know you hear me." Amir was right. I did. But I wished I hadn't. I stood up from the water fountain and turned around to find him directly behind me, leaving little space between us.

"So wassup witchu?" Amir smirked and I wanted to throw up.

"I'm alright." I didn't look at him and tried to slide past him, but he naturally slid to block my way.

"Where you going? I just wanna talk." Amir put his hand up to touch my arm, but I smacked it away.

"You always 'just wanna talk' Amir," I tried to slide past him again but he moved with me. "Get the fuck away from me." I finally raised my voice. A few people within earshot of us looked in our direction, hoping for some type of altercation.

"Damn girl, my bad." Amir put his hands up like he hadn't done anything wrong, but smiled that stupid devious smile of his and chuckled. As much as I wanted to punch him in the face, I thought about the consequences. That was something I did often: thought about what the results would be once I made a decision. It was something my dad always told me to do, especially once I was out of the house and on my own. It was something I wished more people would do.

"Yeah, ok." I scoffed and started back toward the classroom because I had nowhere else to go. Once I was in the doorway, I saw Omari was the only one in the classroom. At that point, I didn't t want to enter because then we'd be alone again. He had his elbow leaned on the desktop and his chin rested in his hand. His t-shirt sleeve was dropped down a bit and I could see a name inked in cursive across his tricep and some other designs that I couldn't make out underneath it. If you only took a quick look, you'd think he was asleep, but a closer look proved he was deep in thought. He was looking straight ahead like he wanted to look through the chalk board in front of him. I didn't make any noise out of fear of him noticing me so I backed out of the doorway. Just as I stepped backward, the teachers announced our last break was over and to head back into the classroom. I was the first one in, for obvious reasons, and Omari looked over when I came in. His eyes floated over me in a creepy but interested way. I hadn't said much to him, but he kept eyeing me like we had more to talk about. It was really starting to creep me out.

The final hour of class went by and I was finally free from summer school...until tomorrow. Everyone rushed out of the classrooms to the doors so they could get on with their day. It was only 12:30 and there was so much to do. Some kids who drove got in their cars and pulled right off, while some got picked up. Almost everyone was gone within 5 minutes of being dismissed, except Omari. He sat on a bench outside by the doors and looked down at his phone. He had an annoyed look on his face and sighed deeply before putting his phone back in his pocket. I had only stuck around because I went to the main office and caught up with the secretaries a little bit. Call me a "suck up" if you want, but all the teachers and administrators loved me and I wanted to keep it that way. Being in good with the teachers was a plus because they always let me get away with things other kids couldn't. Once I left the office and saw Omari, I started to get that weird feeling again: the feeling that I should help him in some way. I had absolutely no common ground with Omari other than the fact we went to the same school, but something kept drawing me to him. I had heard so many obscene things about Omari but when I spoke to him in person, he seemed very timid and reserved. I guess I was just curious as to what made him tick and what was going on his head that made him get that "deep in thought" look on his face.