Despite All Obstacles Part II

Hello

PATTHEW'S STORY

I am face to face with the new girl after I saved her from those cheerleading meanies. I don't really consider girls female dogs, but mean girls are called female dogs for a reason.

"Are you okay?" I ask her, holding onto her shoulder with my hand.

"Yes," she answers, breathing heavily. I let her go.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"Barbara," she answers.

"Patt." I exchange my hand and she shakes it with hers. We're both lefties, just like Matt, dad, bro and Shortcake. Awesome.

"I see that we're both lefties," I say with a smile.

"Yeah, I got used to being the only one who uses her left hand. In my old school, all of my friends are right-handed," Barbara tells me.

"What school did you go to?" I ask.

"Barack H. Obama II Academy. It's a charter school in Inglewood."

"Oh. South Bay. I'm from here and Palm Trees has been my life. I've never heard of that school." The school sounds like it's brand new if I had never heard of it.

"It's on Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Boulevard across downtown Inglewood. It exists since 2009, due to the 2008's inauguration," she tells me. I've never been to Inglewood before, but I heard bad things about it. Like someone was carjacked and killed and their Pizza Hut is shutting down.

"Oh," I say and look down. I almost forgot bro is with me.

"Oh. This is Ryan," I introduce bro to her, "my best friend since third grade."

Bro nods and says, "Hi, new girl." He walks to her and gives her a weak fist-bump with his fist, as she does the same. We should be called The Lefties.

"Welcome to Palm Trees," he tells her and tells me, "I'll head to advisory now."

"Bye, bro." We do our Three Stooges handshake. We use our left hands to clap them together, clutch them together, head bang, body slam them to our hearts, let go then salute farewell with them. He leaves.

"What kinda handshake is that?" She asks, curious about it.

"The Three Stooges. Me, him and my brother. My brother has Lunch C on both days."

"That means I might never meet him. I don't have Lunch C at all, according to my schedule." This means we don't have lunch together on Day A's, either.

"Maybe bump into him. You'll also see China during Lunch B on Day B's. On Day A's, we don't have lunch together."

"Oh, okay." She looks around. I'm guessing she wants to head back to advisory for her second half.

"Where do you have advisory?" I ask, insisting I walk her there.

She shows me her schedule and she has Ms. Sparks. That lady has a high-pitched voice. Ms. Sparks is my English teacher. I also see that Barbara and I have music together. That was where I remember her from. We both have Lunch B on Day B's, but she has Lunch A on Day A's, which means she won't be with Shortcake during lunch on Day A's either, because Shortcake has Lunch B on both days.

"Oh, I know where she is. She's my English teacher. Do you want me to walk you there, or you're okay?" I ask to see if she minds me walking her.

She smiles to herself. "Yes, Patt, you can walk me to advisory." I'm glad that she's happy enough to let me. I am such a nice guy.

"Cool," I say and shrug. We walk through the steps to the third floor. I guess leaving lunch early gives me time to get to know her. The reason bro and I left ten minutes early is because we can't stand the crowded halls and not having much time to get to class. Also, the cafeteria is so loud, I can barely hear myself speak to bro and Shortcake.

"So, Barbara, what brings you here to Palm Trees Sr. High?" I ask her. The hall is very peaceful when it's quiet. I don't get why people fear it. I love it.

"My mom has a new job here," she tells me. She looks down when she tells me that. Mom told me people don't make eye contact when they're nervous, shy, socially awkward or lying. I think it's all except the last one.

"Awesome. That's great, Barbara." I look at my phone and Lunch B will be over in five minutes. "What does she do?"

"She's a technician. She's very handy with technical stuff," she says, nervously.

"That's cool. Where does she work?" I know it's none of my business, but she seems cool to get to know.

She takes her time to think. "UCLA." Did I just hear my future college??

"No freaking way!" I exclaim like a maniac that I can feel my eyes grow. I didn't mean to scare her.

"What?" She nervously asks me. Barbara, you just said UCLA!!

"You said my dream college, UCLA!" I smile so big I don't even remember doing it for years.

"Oh, right." She nervously laughs and holds her heart with her hand. "Yeah, she even went there as a sorority sister and I was born there, too."

I can't with it. She makes me so excited that I need to be her best friend. I need to calm down and take a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. I'm calm. "That's awesome. Do you plan on going to UCLA as well?" I want to know. I need to know.

She shrugs. "I don't know what college I wanna go to. I just wanna sing gospel."

It's not bad to take a break from school to pursue a career into something, especially singing. When I go to UCLA, Juilliard or NYU, or any art school, I want to be a musician. When I first touched that saxophone in my seventh grade year, I started loving music. Mostly jazz, rock, metal, classic and alternatives.

We stop by Ms. Sparks's. I look at the school clock. It's 11:57. Three minutes.

"Patt. I'm just curious." She pauses and stares at both of my eyes. "How did your eyes get like that?" Yes, I was waiting for this moment.

"Well, Barbara." I lean against the wall with a smile. "What I have is called heterochromia."

She looks confused. "Hetero-chro-mia," she tries to pronounce it. It sounds right.

"Yes. There are two types." I stick out two fingers. "There are heterochromia iridium and heterochromia iridis. I have the former."

She smiles. "What about the latter? What's that like?"

"One eye is normal, and the other is mixed with another color, while both eyes look the same. I don't know if someone could have both different eye colors and one of them is mixed with two different colors. They would have both kinds of heterochromias," I brag about weird science. I make Barbara smile.

"How did you know that you have heterochromia?" She leans on the wall, and that's my cue to get off the wall.

"Well, Barbara. It was the seventh grade in Palm Trees Jr. High when my teacher told me and Ryan that is what it's called. He said he has a feral cat named Scooter with one green eye and one blue eye. It was after class after studying about human genes. He took a picture of me and was happy to show his family."

"That's pretty cool, Patt."

"Oh, yeah. Here's a joke." Here I go. "If I have heterochromia, what do normal people have?"

"What?"

"Homo-chromia."

"Oooooh. I get it." She quietly laughs.

"Ryan told me the joke. He even did it with my brother. He gets it, too. I decided to try it with everyone I meet, because I'm that weird."

"No, you're not weird, Patt. You're awesome." She holds my left shoulder like I did to her earlier. The bell rings. I look at the clock and it's noon. The classroom doors open everywhere and floods the hall.

"Do you want to stay out here until five minutes are up? Between classes, we have five minutes to get prepared for next period," I tell her to let her know we're not going to be late for our second half for advisory. On Day A's, my advisory is fully before lunch. For her, it's fully after.

"Yeah, I can stay out here," she tells me.

"Cool," I say and shrug.