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VINCENT
I watch her walk to Anne’s desk, and she sits down. The sun glimmers on her hair and I feel a strange twinge in my heart, a feeling I have never experienced before.
I notice with a sudden thrust of jealousy the way she looks at Johnathan and I try to look away, but it is as if she has weaved a spell around me, and it is only by force I am able to look back at Mr. Johnson and concentrate on what he is teaching us.
The bell chimes, an irritating xylophone sound, and I pick my bag up from the floor.
By accident, I end up walking out of the classroom behind her and Anne. When she turns to reply to something Anne says, I notice with a plunge in my stomach, her elongated neck, the little wisps of hair and her perfectly shaped ear.
What is wrong with me?
It is with relief I notice Dennis walking toward me. He would be able to take my mind off this unwanted situation. I cannot believe I am so attracted to this girl – not only is she the complete opposite of me, but never have I ever had the slightest interest in a white girl before.
“Hey, Vincent,” Dennis greets me as he walks toward me.
“Hey.” I catch myself still frowning, and then I smile.
“Have you got any news yet from Mr. Jackson?”
We walk away in the opposite direction of Anne and Chrissie, and I reply, “Yeah, he phoned last night, and he wants to meet with us tomorrow afternoon.”
“Great.”
We walk in silence for a while and when we cross the quad, I cannot help looking back at Chrissie. I notice her standing next to Anne, while Anne is speaking to one of her many superficial friends.
All the girls walking past Dennis and I greet us friendly and usually I find this flattering, but today it just feels overbearing.
Dennis interrupts my thoughts, “Are we practising today?”
“What do you think? I think we should just have a break today and see what Mr. Jackson wants first.”
“I suppose you’re right; we should take this afternoon off. I need to start spending some time with Clara anyway,” Dennis says with a sigh.
I laugh. “Yeah before she leaves you. Again. I swear girls are so fickle, they want to be with the pop star, but then they don’t want to put up with waiting around.”
“She’s getting there. Are you going with to that new Blues Bar this weekend?”
“Might as well.”
“There’s usually a few single hotties hanging around.”
I laugh. When it comes to hot, single girls, I am always first in line.
I do not see Chrissie again until lunch break, and she is sitting under the tree with all of Anne’s friends—they are all laughing and joking– she fit in right from the start.
We do not sit under the tree. There is a common presumption this space is for the Senior Student Council, yet the two black students on the council do not sit here either. Most think it is because they would rather spend their breaks doing other things, but we all know, yet we prefer to ignore, the thin membrane of racial divide that exists.
I also notice Johnathan sitting next to Chrissie, plying his charms on her. I cannot understand what the girls see in him, with those washed out blue eyes and pasty white skin.
Every girl, black and white seems to swoon when he walks into a room, it is nothing less than infuriating. I realize this has never bothered me before, so why would it do so now?
I leave school as soon as the last bell chimes through the corridors and I see Chrissie walking along the pathway. It looks like she is on her way to the bus stop and I contemplate stopping and offering her a lift, but then I press the button on my car stereo, increasing the volume and then listening to the music loudly, drowning out all thoughts of her, I drive away from school as fast as traffic will allow me.
When I eventually get home, I park my car in the garage.
Maria is in the kitchen, and I greet her friendly, but I am not in the mood for chit-chat, so I walk past fast calling out a greeting in a rushed tone. I run up the stairs quickly and once I am in my room, I turn my stereo on as loud as possible. I lie down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling.
My mom died when I was young. She was involved in a car accident and the white teenager, who killed her, by jumping a red light, only got a few years in jail.
My father now works all day and all night—I hardly ever see him. He promised himself when he was young, he would work hard until he could afford anything his heart desires, and now he owned his own share-listed Construction Company.
Before my mom died, when I was only five years old, he used to be home more often, and I often think back to those days. We used to do things together, play ball, go to the park, the beach and have picnics. When my mom died, he went to work one day, and I do not think he ever really came home again.
He used to dislike white people before the accident, but now he simply loathed them.
I remember my first day in Grade One. He made a special effort to be at home that evening for dinner and I told him excitedly how June gave me one of her cupcakes. He inquired carefully if June was a white or a black girl. I replied innocently that she was white, and he then told me calmly and convincingly how I should and never could have a relationship with a white girl.
I was young then, and growing up I never doubted his advice because even though I liked June because her pink frosted cupcakes were the best I had ever tasted, I never liked her in that way, anyway.
Since Dennis, George, Simon and I started the band, and we started playing at venues, I have had many white girls falling over their feet trying to get my attention but never once did I feel the slightest attraction towards them.
I have never even looked twice in the direction of any white girl before, until now.
I get up from my bed, and then I switch on my gaming console. Playing a violent game, should get my attention diverted.
I play until Maria calls me to come and eat.
Maria has been with me since my mom died. She has cleaned our house, cooked, and looked after me. I wonder if I could ask her what she thought is wrong with me, but I decide not to because she might tell my father, and this would just create tension in an already volatile situation.
My father told me once, in passing, how proud he is of me with the success of our band, after Mr. Jackson helped us sign a deal with a record company. When he told me this, I felt a sense of relief and I wanted to continue making him proud of me. Maybe then, he would notice me more often because now we hardly talked. I would really hate to disappoint him.
George, Dennis, Simon, and I meet with Mr. Jackson. He tells us the release date for our first single will be in July. He also encourages us, convincingly, we should consider having a female singer included in the song because it is a ballad. He feels it might have a greater appeal if there is a female vocal included.
After much discussion, we agree and then decide we would hold auditions at school. The girl who gets the part can then also go on the tour which Mr. Jackson is trying to arrange for us during the summer break, and she could act as backup singer as well.
Every day I see Chrissie, in the corridors, in class. She is so ignorant of me, and I suppose this is a good thing because if she is anything else towards me, I might not be able to resist. I fight hard against my feelings, yet I find myself looking at her when no one else can see me.
A week before the V-Ball, Mr. Jackson arranges with the Dean for us to perform our début single in front of the school, after our weekly hall period.
Dennis, George, Simon, and I are nervous. Although we have performed at a few malls and bars, this would be our first time performing in front of our peers.
We can hear and feel the excitement in the hall, and instead of this making me feel more relaxed, I start feeling more nervous.
Seconds before we must go on stage, Dennis runs off to the bathrooms and when he gets back, he is sickly pale. Not one of us talk, we are too preoccupied with our own feelings and trying to stay calm.
We walk onto the stage and the applause is loud. We have already arranged our instruments on the stage while the hall proceedings were in progress.
We start playing and singing, and all else fades into the background. I think the students liked it because they cheer loudly, and the clapping is deafening. I remind everyone to buy their V-Ball tickets early.
I also think I am getting over Chrissie, the forceful rejection of my feelings for her, is starting to work.
At lunch break, we are in the Music Centre. We spend most of our breaks here, and usually we would have a few girls here with us while we fiddle with the music instruments, but today it is just the four of us.
I am in between girlfriends.
Simon and Dennis have had long-term relationships and their girlfriends are frustrated with the band spending so much time together, so they avoid being with us during school hours.
George has no girlfriend and I do not think he has ever had one.
We are standing around the piano, laughing and joking. Simon tells us he can play a tune on the piano and add rhythm without adding drums. George laughs and tells Simon to prove it. Obviously, drums cannot be replaced but we like to annoy George – he makes it so easy.
Suddenly, Chrissie walks through the door into the music centre, and I do a double take. I only notice Anne when she greets us loudly.
I look into Chrissie’s eyes and realize I am undoubtedly in love with her and am most certainly not getting over her.
She is standing in front of me, uncertain of herself and I have a million emotions and sensations rushing through my body at the same time, but I manage to remain indifferent.
Anne is talking to me, but I hardly hear her. I want to speak to Chrissie, but I have no idea what I should say.
Mercifully, the bell rings, and we walk out of the Music Centre, ahead of Chrissie.
I walk with my friends, but it feels as if something is chasing me, so I walk a little faster than they do. Just before we turn the corner, I look back and into her eyes. I must stop this foolishness.
That afternoon, while we are practising in the Music Centre, Sabrina walks into the room. Sabrina is Mr. Jackson’s daughter, and at times she can be pompous and arrogant. She seems to be more than interested in me, and she is beautiful.
I decide there and then she would be the perfect antidote to help me get over the pathetic feelings I seem to have for Chrissie. Impulsively, I ask Sabrina to go to the V-Ball with me, and she accepts.
The night of the V-Ball, I drive to Sabrina's home to collect her. Mr. Jackson is happy to see me and he seems to approve that I have shown an interest in his daughter.
Sabrina comes walking down the stairs and, to be honest, she does take my breath away. What I realize, though, in those brief moments, watching her, is that Sabrina is no comparison to Chrissie, and I would never be able to substitute her.
Sabrina talks without end and I smile politely every now and again to acknowledge I am still listening to her monologue. I am relieved when we drive through the security gates of the school, and I park the car in the student parking lot.
I walk around my car, taking a deep breath and then open the door for Sabrina. She steps out of the car elegantly, and then she hooks her arm into mine possessively, as we turn to the hall.
I notice Chrissie immediately across the lot. She is alone and I suppose it is her dad dropping her off. She seems to hesitate nervously and then she leans into the car and lightly touches her lips to her dad's cheek, smiling sweetly. She then walks toward the hall and I stare after her, my heart following her.
“Hey, Vincent,” Sabrina says softly next to me, following my gaze. I look at her, smiling, and she continues, “Are you nervous playing here tonight?”
“No. I think after the other day in the hall, I’ll never be nervous again.” I jest, “That was the worst nervous I have ever felt.”
“I’m sure you will be great,” she says as she hugs my arm closer to her side.
I decide to enjoy my evening with Sabrina, to forget about Chrissie – I am being ridiculous anyway.
I cannot help glancing in her direction every now and again, but she is unaware of my existence.
At the end of the evening, the last song for the night, I notice Johnathan haul Chrissie onto the dance floor.
She looks unwilling, yet when he pulls her closer into him, she goes willingly.
Johnathan holds her close to him, and although I know it should be none of my business, it is every bit my business.
