Snow Space

Hazy

It was the first time in about three months that Khamil had showed up to school, though on account of his promise to Ronnie and his moral sensibility, he'd felt compelled to begin making an effort again. Of course, he was wearing his uniform how he used to wear it in year 10, before he started skipping: rolled up sleeves, short tie, and trainers instead of school shoes. Worn Adidas' on his feet, and hands in his pocket as his satchel hung lazily off of his shoulder, he strolled through the school gates, a strange feeling following him. It felt strange to be back - the bleak building  in front of him, the teachers who'd tried so hard to put him right, and especially the shocked faces of his peers at the sight of him. As he passed several groups of familiar faces, there were low murmurs as if confirming with their friends that it was in fact Khamil Brooke who'd decided to show up to school rather than hanging around with the gangs. Ignoring this casually, he hung his hand from his satchel strap, heading towards the big blue doors; as he entered the building, he found himself instantly reunited with the long-lost sound of shoes squeaking on cheap floor. 

"Oi! Nah way has Khamil actually come to school!"

Khamil let out a small grin at the sight of some of the other year twelve boys he used to hang out with - the ones who actually came to school, and greeted them all with boisterous hand-clasps and fist-bumps. It was surreal; the fact they even remembered him well enough to be so friendly was enough to settle his nerves, and make him instantly thankful for such a welcome. 

"Long time no see, you skiving prick!"

"Enit, been a while."

"Break it up, boys, lessons are starting," came the monotonous warning of a teacher walking past, though he stopped and did a double-take as he saw Khamil. 

"Morning, Mr Brooke."

"Morning, sir," Khamil smiled back, with the usual cheeky smile that he used to use to charm the teachers instinctively materialising on his face. 

Mr Simmons gave him an odd smile, though an approving one, and continued on down the corridor. Khamil parted from his friends, patting them on the back, before doing a smooth and purposely humorous 180º turn towards his business class. His prior nervousness suddenly struck him once more in full effect as he reached the door marked '046 - BUSINESS', though it was too late to bow out now, and so mustering his courage he opened the door, quietly making his way through the tables as Mr Keitel spoke in the background. 

"And here we have financial performance, dividend policy, relationships with key investors, and management reputation. Mr Brooke."

At the sound of his name, Khamil quickly raised his head after having found his old seat, ignoring the looks from his classmates, who had clearly never expected to see him in school again.

"Yes, sir."

Mr Keitel held his gaze for a moment, studying the boy's face, before turning back to the whiteboard, speaking as he underlined whatever he'd just been teaching.

"How nice of you to grace us with your presence."

"Think nothing of it, sir."

Though he didn't turn around, you could tell Mr Keitel was smiling at the tongue-in-cheek remark, before continuing. There were a couple of laughs around the room too, allowing Khamil to relax a little into his chair - though he still had no idea what was happening on the board at the front of the classroom. 

"Now we turn to factors outside of the company's control - jot those down and we can move on - Jacob put that away. This is a classroom not an arcade." 

Khamil looked around, his eyes falling on the book of the boy next to him. He'd been sort of friends with James in the past, and so he leaned across, whispering in a plea for explanation.

"What's he talking about?"

"Factors that influence the share price of a public company, so like alternative investments and stuff."

James leant back as if he'd just clarified the entire topic and went back to scribbling down notes in his book, leaving Khamil sat with a boggling mind. This really was his fault for not showing up to school, but he'd never felt so confused in his life, especially when the black marker on the board seemed to fade backwards into the white, the words empty and meaningless to him. He rubbed a thoughtful hand across his chin, sighing as his page remained blank. Of course. It would never be that easy. 

It was in the transition from second period to third period, that Khamil encountered some less friendly faces, a sudden hostility in the air as he walked past two boys with vaguely recognisable faces. He thought nothing of it, until a snippet of their conversation reached his ears through the buzzed chatter in the hallway. 

"Yo, that was fucking Brooke."

"For real?"

Now he recognised them, from Hade's gang. Khamil would have kept on walking at this foreboding exchange, though almost instantly one of the two boys had turned around and shoved Khamil into the wall, before digging a punch into his stomach, winding him. With a sharp wince, Khamil doubled over at the blow, before a heavy hand slammed him back against the wall in a lock. Some of the students around stopped walking in shock, their eyes trained on the scene in front of them. 

"What the fuck?!"

"You want to watch your fucking back if you're gonna be snitching about shit," came the ominous reply, the boy's face only centimetres away as Khamil regained his breath.

"Yo, I have no clue what the hell you're talking about, man."

"You know Raff, don't you? Ear piercing, wears the fancy 110s?"

"Yeah, I know Raff - now let fucking go of me."

"One of his boys saw the police outside your estate, and now they're all up questioning his lot. Something there tells me you fucking snitched."

Khamil stared at the boy, before looking to the side in irritation, rolling his eyes. He tilted his head back, a challenging look in his eyes. 

"They came round, yeah, but I told them fuck all. You think I'd tell them and take my chances getting shanked?"

This was the thing with Raff - he knew everyone, from Bateson Road to Sutherland; he walked between them unharmed, simply because of his connections. You crossed Raff, you signed your own death warrant, though now for some reason, Sutherland seemed to be using this as an excuse for beef. Nevertheless, what Khamil was saying made sense, and the boy simply looked at his friend with a sharp smile, before looking back at Khamil. Slowly, he released his grip, dropping his hands from Khamil's school shirt. Looking a little put-off, Khamil glared at the two of them, his collar now upturned from the brief scuffle. The other students were still watching intently. 

"If Raff goes down, man, you're fucking dead."

"What's going on down there?"

At the sound of a teacher, the two boys shared a final glance, and then disappeared into the crowd of students - slowly, the conversational hum started up again, leaving Khamil stood in the corridor. As their backs turned, Khamil held up a middle finger at them, before walking backwards a few steps, and then resuming his walk down the corridor.