The Grand Elites

The Grand Elites

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WpMetadataNoticePublikasi terakhir Kam, Nov 22, 2018
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There are two definitions for "elite" in the dictionary that I know of. A) people of the highest class and B) a group of persons exercising the major share of authority or influence within a large group. Unfortunately, this refers to almost 99% of the population of the Park Cities. Basically, if you either live in the tiny two cities within the community of downtown Dallas, or you attend school there, you're within the school's jurisdiction. And that, more often than not, sucks. In other words, this society is one where looks deceive, smarts count, and games are played to see who can claw their way up to the top of the social chains the fastest. Welcome to Highland Park and while we can't promise you'll love it here at once, but in the way we all did, you'll either learn to adapt or get eaten alive by the competition. We'll choose your clothing, your friends, the type of music you love, your love interest, the class within the social hierarchy you belong in, in a nutshell, everything and anything relating to you. Just try to fit in and keep a sense of self, or else none of your college applications will make it past community colleges.
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They didn't end up in the same space on purpose. Brooklynn is the quiet type. Not shy... just tired. Tired in the "life been heavy for a while now" way. He minds his business, goes to work, comes home, and keeps his world small because that's how he breathes. Azyir is the opposite. Loud, funny, always in motion. ADHD running the wheel every day. Talks so much he forgets to say what he really means. Laughs loud so nobody asks if he's okay. They sit in the same trig class at their HBCU, but they don't talk. They don't dislike each other either. They just... live in two different worlds. Messiah Markell is their professor. Older, calm, strict in the quiet way that makes people sit up straighter. He owns a club downtown called Desirable, but in class he keeps everything controlled. He doesn't like watching people drown in silence or noise. He sees them both slipping. Not failing. Slipping. So he tells them to stay after class. Every day. Not for tutoring. Not for discipline. Just to sit, breathe, work, or not work. A room where nobody has to force themselves to be "okay." And somehow, without anybody planning it... The quiet one. The loud one. And the man who teaches them how to stay. Start learning how to need each other. Not in a fast way. Not in a dramatic way. In the way real connections happen: Slow glances. Shared exhaustion. Walking home together because home doesn't feel safe tonight. Sitting in silence that doesn't hurt. Being seen without having to explain. This is a story about: Black boy rest. Soft dominance. Messy feelings. Learning how to stay present. No fake deep. No forced love. Just real people figuring out how to breathe.

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