Symphony Of A Serial Killer

Chapter 7: Radio Silence

She can’t be serious… that’s my girl and all but she’s seen way too many crime shows. Gazing at her with my arms crossed, the forethought is to just drag her ass to class and call it day. For the second time this morning I find myself pinching the bridge of my nose while shaking my head, “You’re kidding right?”

Sometimes in life we find ourselves asking questions to which we already know the answer. I knew she wasn’t kidding but I wanted to hold onto the false hope for as long as I could. Her expression didn’t wane. Missy wasn’t waiting for a response; she was waiting for my eyes to tell her that I was on board.

Unfortunately for her, I simply didn’t care enough. As harsh as it may come across, two tourists being left for dead in my town means shit to me. Great conversation piece sure, but something to lose sleep over? Not so much.

To make sure she understood me, I cleared my throat and looked deep into her eyes, “No.”

Right on cue, she gives me the look that usually results in her getting what she wants, but that only works on the hormone driven guys and girls.

“Umm, hell no. As a black man there’s no way I’m willingly going to a crime scene. Let’s be clear on this, just because we had fun once doesn’t mean I’m going to follow you around doing random stupid shit.”

“Fine Danté, but a friend wouldn’t let me go alone.”

“Actually, a friend wouldn’t let you go at all.” I retort just as the bell rang, wonderful, late again. I toss up deuces while walking pass her on my way to class.

“So the fact that you’re willing to let me go, not to mention alone, what does that say about you?” she yells.

“It says that I’m down with you and will always have your back… if what you’re doing is logical.” As I disappear around the corner I add. “But when it comes to stupid shit, you’re on your own.”

I could hear her storming off, part of me thought I should have went with her. The other side of me realized that’s how people end up dead, sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong. There’s a pattern with me today, I’m being both late and wrong about almost everything. I was so sure she was going to try and play the whole life debt angle. Guess she forgot, if not, one can only wonder what she’s saving it for.

All eyes were on me the moment I stepped through the door. To be expected, I’m sure we’re all familiar with that awkward feeling of being the last one to walk into a room. Creative writing, one of many bullshit courses I’m taking since I pretty much have the credits I need to graduate. This was the filler for most seniors to eat up time until they got their diplomas. That didn’t stop Mrs. Allen though; she was as strict and stubborn as they came.

“Mr. Campbell, thank you for joining us. I was just asking for a volunteer, but since you’re already up here, you can go.”

Yep, the day before break and she assigned homework, easy homework but still… did she really expect anyone to actually do it? Based on the combination of her expression and hand gesturing, I’d say yes.  My classmates sarcastically cheered me on while she made fun of the fact that I came completely prepared, as in empty handed.

I normally do my work regardless, but the assignment was to write a paper on ‘Why do the holidays bring families together?’ Not a topic I’d choose to speak on, but I can definitely shoot from the hip.

As I stood at the front of the class, I gave the teacher one final look before beginning. This was her chance to let me off the hook and she didn’t take it. With the universal hand gesture from her to proceed, I looked unto my peers and began.