"Jason, are you fine now?" Chris asked for the umpteenth time, staring closely at his best friend with eyes filled with sympathy.
"Yes, Chris. I am fine now." Jason replied, getting fed up with the incessant questions. "Can you stop with the questions already?" He continued in a calm voice that sounded forced. He was already boiling inside of him.
Four of them were now sitting and eating their food in a way that seemed a bit sorrowful. Matthew Clay and Zion Murphy remained quiet throughout the meal. The silence was only broken at intervals when Chris would ask Jason if his back hurts or if he should help him get more water and food from the counter. Chris did not care if Jason found it annoying, he just wanted to make sure his friend was fine.
Jason could not blame Chris for his neverending show of extreme and love care. Chris Hunter had been his friend right from their childhood days. They attended the same elementary school, middle school and now high school. They lived close to each other too. Jason's house was just a few metres away from Chris' house. They would always visit each other on weekends, slept over at each other's house and they gave each other gifts on their respective birthdays. Their friendship waxed stronger and stronger day by day. Their dads were childhood friends who grew up together too. Mr Davis Hunter and Mr George Peters grew up together in a small town. They attended the same elementary and middle school just like their sons. But they went to different high schools; that was when they parted ways for some years. But then life still brought them back together as they got married almost at the same time and settled down in the same town, this time a bigger town.
They soon finished eating just two minutes to the end of recess. At the sound of the bell, everybody rushed back to their respective classrooms.
***
It was almost noon when George Peters clambered down the stairs to the kitchen still in his pyjamas. He went straight to the fridge, opened it, grabbed a jug of milk and drank straight from it. He felt thirsty.
"Why not use a glass, sweetheart?" Hannie, his wife who was sitting down on one of the chairs asked politely. She proceeded to get up and get a glass for him but that was not necessary as he had already drank his fill of milk and had kept the jug back into the fridge. She kept the glass cup back and came to sit next to him on the chair.
"Good morning Hun! How was your night?" She asked in a caring voice, staring at him like one who just saw an angel.
"It was boring. Not even a single dream". He replied with an intent of humour. She caught the joke and let out a little laugh.
"Where is Jason? I have not seen him since today". George asked, scratching his eyelids while yawning.
"Oh stop George. You just woke up from sleep. He is at school". She said, rubbing his hair lovingly.
"School? Oh wow! Really?" He exclaimed in surprise.
"Yes. Today is the first day of school after the break". She replied him patiently.
"I am sorry, I just can't keep in touch with some activities anymore". He apologized.
"Are you not going to work today? You are very late already." She asked with concern.
"Ah! No. I had to take a day off. I really needed to rest a bit. It has been a stressful week for me". He replied. He worked at the steel company as a product manager.
"Okay. I understand, Hun". She returned.
"What about you? Why are you not at work?" He asked, with a surprised look on his face.
"Oh dear! Sorry I have not told you. I have been thinking of quitting my job". She said with a tinge of sadness in her voice.
"Why?" Her husband asked, his face displaying shock.
"The pay is not just worth the amount of work I put in. I get stressed out a lot and I am being paid peanuts at the end of the day". She said with a worried look on her face.
"It is just not fair. I am being overlaboured". She continued.
"Woahh! I am so sorry about that, Hun". George consoled. "But how are you going to get another job?" He asked.
"Mrs Armstrong, my direct assistant says she knows a place where the pay better". She said while getting up. "Sometime this week, we will go and check out the place". She continued while walking towards the gas cooker to boil some water for his morning coffee.
She had worked close to 5 years as a baker in the bakery just at the end of their street. She felt it was time to make a change, try out other places and make new acquaintances too.
"Jason stayed up late again last night!" She announced to George as she put the kettle underneath the tap at the sink to let water rush into the medium sized stainless kettle.
"What do you expect? He is a teenager now". George explained as a matter of fact. He had his reading glasses perched on his nose and was scrolling through his newsfeed on F******k.
"And teenagers are widely known to go against orders sometimes". He continued, this time fully engrossed in his phone.
"Oh honey! I know but it is not that". Hannie cried out and mistakenly spilled the water on the floor while taking the kettle off the sink.
"It is about, you know? The curse". She whispered this time, crossed over the spilled water and placed the kettle on the cooker.
"Have you forgotten that he is not supposed to keep late nights immediately he turns fourteen? And he has been keeping to the instructions all these while not until he turned fifteen lately. She added almost at the verge of crying.
"Hey! Psst psst!" Someone hissed behind trying to get his attention. He ignored at first and put all his attention on the teacher who was standing in front of the class, pointing her fingers at the large map which hung by the side of the whiteboard.Miss Maryanne Hampton was his Geography teacher. She was one of the best teachers they had in Darkota High School and every student she taught could attest to that. She had a very unique way of explaining things to the students which helped to make the lessons stick to their brains. She was also smartly dressed all the time and wore large rimmed glasses too."So by the left of this map, you would see the little town situated..." She said, gesturing to the map. The class had become quiet, listening with rapt attention. The only noise he could hear was that of the person behind him trying to get him to look back by all means. He battled with himself whether to look back or not. He eventually decided to succumb. As he turned to see who has be
Suddenly the staircase became too long for him. He ran up the stairs so fast that he was panting heavily when he reached the landing in front of his room. He kicked open the door and banged it close.He laid his back on the shut door, flung his bag to one side and closed his eyes in a bid to calm his restless nerves. His heart was beating rapidly, he could hardly breathe. He stared outside through the glass panes; the sun was going down gradually, drifting into the evening. He quickly made a dash to his bed and laid on it with his school clothes still on.***"Oh George! Do you not think that you were too harsh on him?" Hannie's voice rang out from the across the table. George ignored her and came to sit down, staring at his almost cold coffee."I will go and make him something to eat. He is probably stressed out." Hannie said as she stood and went to the kitchen counter.George was still silent. He had totally forgotten about the lawyer's text earlier that morning. The rent had been
Jason Peters opened his eyes slowly; he was beginning to come out of his extremely droopy state finally. His eyelids fluttered as though they were in the making of a slow motion video. All these were the after effects of staying up the whole night playing video games and at the same time hiding from his mom to avoid any of her reprimands for his"unethical behaviour". He was allowed to be up till at least 9pm during holidays, but he stayed awake till a whooping 2am the next morning.His eyes were now finally wide opened. He looked around at the state of his room. Looking straight ahead of him was his reading table which made direct contact with the green coloured wall of his room . It was filled with books which were scattered all over. The reading lamp on the table was at the edge of the table, almost at the verge of falling off and breaking its glass. His aunt, Maggie, had given it to him on his fifteenth birthday. His laptop was on top of the scattered books, slightly tilting to the
He sat down on the seat with his bag on the desk. He maintained a calm poise as he quietly looked around, staring at his fellow classmates while they kept making a whole lot of noise in the class. At one corner of the classroom was a group of friends. They were four in number. All males.The centre of attraction in the group was Charles Oswald, the British American student. He was one of the richest boys in his class and that made most of the girls cower at his feet just to get his attention. His parents were very well to do that they had a very strong say in the running of the affairs of the school. They were also one of the top shareholders both in the school and in the state. He was always smartly dressed to school; his trendy shirts, trousers and shoes were no match for most of their thrift wears. His haircut was also sleek and stylish. He was always driven to school by a chauffeur in different cars. More like, every day had a different car assigned to it. Funny enough, even teach
Suddenly the staircase became too long for him. He ran up the stairs so fast that he was panting heavily when he reached the landing in front of his room. He kicked open the door and banged it close.He laid his back on the shut door, flung his bag to one side and closed his eyes in a bid to calm his restless nerves. His heart was beating rapidly, he could hardly breathe. He stared outside through the glass panes; the sun was going down gradually, drifting into the evening. He quickly made a dash to his bed and laid on it with his school clothes still on.***"Oh George! Do you not think that you were too harsh on him?" Hannie's voice rang out from the across the table. George ignored her and came to sit down, staring at his almost cold coffee."I will go and make him something to eat. He is probably stressed out." Hannie said as she stood and went to the kitchen counter.George was still silent. He had totally forgotten about the lawyer's text earlier that morning. The rent had been
"Hey! Psst psst!" Someone hissed behind trying to get his attention. He ignored at first and put all his attention on the teacher who was standing in front of the class, pointing her fingers at the large map which hung by the side of the whiteboard.Miss Maryanne Hampton was his Geography teacher. She was one of the best teachers they had in Darkota High School and every student she taught could attest to that. She had a very unique way of explaining things to the students which helped to make the lessons stick to their brains. She was also smartly dressed all the time and wore large rimmed glasses too."So by the left of this map, you would see the little town situated..." She said, gesturing to the map. The class had become quiet, listening with rapt attention. The only noise he could hear was that of the person behind him trying to get him to look back by all means. He battled with himself whether to look back or not. He eventually decided to succumb. As he turned to see who has be
"Jason, are you fine now?" Chris asked for the umpteenth time, staring closely at his best friend with eyes filled with sympathy."Yes, Chris. I am fine now." Jason replied, getting fed up with the incessant questions. "Can you stop with the questions already?" He continued in a calm voice that sounded forced. He was already boiling inside of him.Four of them were now sitting and eating their food in a way that seemed a bit sorrowful. Matthew Clay and Zion Murphy remained quiet throughout the meal. The silence was only broken at intervals when Chris would ask Jason if his back hurts or if he should help him get more water and food from the counter. Chris did not care if Jason found it annoying, he just wanted to make sure his friend was fine.Jason could not blame Chris for his neverending show of extreme and love care. Chris Hunter had been his friend right from their childhood days. They attended the same elementary school, middle school and now high school. They lived close to ea
He sat down on the seat with his bag on the desk. He maintained a calm poise as he quietly looked around, staring at his fellow classmates while they kept making a whole lot of noise in the class. At one corner of the classroom was a group of friends. They were four in number. All males.The centre of attraction in the group was Charles Oswald, the British American student. He was one of the richest boys in his class and that made most of the girls cower at his feet just to get his attention. His parents were very well to do that they had a very strong say in the running of the affairs of the school. They were also one of the top shareholders both in the school and in the state. He was always smartly dressed to school; his trendy shirts, trousers and shoes were no match for most of their thrift wears. His haircut was also sleek and stylish. He was always driven to school by a chauffeur in different cars. More like, every day had a different car assigned to it. Funny enough, even teach
Jason Peters opened his eyes slowly; he was beginning to come out of his extremely droopy state finally. His eyelids fluttered as though they were in the making of a slow motion video. All these were the after effects of staying up the whole night playing video games and at the same time hiding from his mom to avoid any of her reprimands for his"unethical behaviour". He was allowed to be up till at least 9pm during holidays, but he stayed awake till a whooping 2am the next morning.His eyes were now finally wide opened. He looked around at the state of his room. Looking straight ahead of him was his reading table which made direct contact with the green coloured wall of his room . It was filled with books which were scattered all over. The reading lamp on the table was at the edge of the table, almost at the verge of falling off and breaking its glass. His aunt, Maggie, had given it to him on his fifteenth birthday. His laptop was on top of the scattered books, slightly tilting to the