“What’s wrong with you?” Ashley asks. The way she stares at me, reminds me of a mother hen protecting her eggs.
“Nothing,” I tell her. Though I’m sure, there is something menacing brewing behind the brown of her eyes.
“Then why are you grouching?”
“I’m not… grouching.” I almost snapped at her.

I guess there is something wrong with me. It’s been a couple of days since my conversation with Nick and his gang buddies. Days I have spent trying to figure out a way to peacefully resolve the drug problem rooted in the apartment complex.
I thought about using my ungodly charm to force the leaders of these organizations to reorganize the gangs to stop the drug trade. Only to realize that it’s impossible to force anyone to do anything that they don’t want to do without destroying them. 

Besides, those gang leaders are mere pawns in the hands of the real masterminds who run the big gangs with mafia and cartel tie-ups. Those gangs can replace these leaders with a finger snap. There needs to be a thorough cleansing. Not only do people need to stop selling drugs, but also there is a need for people to stop consuming drugs too. Which is an impossible task. Even for me. As long as people have free will, they will not stop trying to destroy their lives for a momentary high.

“Yes, you are!” Angel interrupts my thoughts. “You didn’t play with Junior today. And you didn’t even hold my hand. You only did when I reminded you! And it’s not just today. You are acting like a… like a,” She jumps toward Ashley. “What are those horrible things in the movies called that walk slowly and groan like a toddler and can’t speak?” Her face changes with each word she utters, disgusted at the memory she’s forcing herself to remember.

“A zombie?” Ashley asks and shudders in disgust. “They are so nasty!”
“Yes, they are!” Angel nods repeatedly. Then points at me and says with the utmost confidence, “You have been acting like a zombie.”
“You only noticed it now?” Ashley jabs from the side.

Before I can explain, Rachel jumps to the seat beside ours, pushing the occupant to the side. “She’s telling the truth.”  She says. Leaning over the backrest, she intrudes into the conversation without invitation. “You didn’t even look at me today.”
“And why would I look at you?”
“That’s true, too. Why should he look at you, Rachel?” Ashley asks with a smirk. “Are you in L.O.V—“

Rachel snorts in Ashley’s direction, glaring at her like a bull ready to let loose. “Say another alphabet and you are dead.”

“All right, Jeez!” Ashley raises her hand in defeat. Though the smile on her face says otherwise. It is almost a mocking victory celebration. She mumbles something inaudible to herself before pulling Angel toward her and speaking to her in hushed tones about something, which makes both the girls giggle like cartoon characters.

I ignore her scrutinizing side eye and Rachel, uninterestedly shoots back into her seat after not getting the desired reaction from me.

This playful mood continues until we reach school. The bus stops and we get out. I don’t forget to wave Angel goodbye and Ashley makes sure I see her rolling her eyes.

She doesn’t forget to look back and stick her tongue out at me before pulling Angel away toward her classroom.

She’s way too smart for her own good. This girl is a reckoning force who will definitely make people’s lives hell once she is older. Perhaps I should ask her for help since she knows more about the community than I do. I push the thought out of my mind and continue forward. Not because I think, she won’t be of any help. Simply because she’ll pester me with way too many questions and that’s not something I want on my plate right now.

I don’t see Emily on the way to the classroom. I go to the washrooms to see if Nick is still dealing in the school and find a place free from his menacing presence. It’s really not that difficult to compare him to a ghost possessing the stalls. He even has that ghastly appearance to boot. Jokes aside, he hasn’t been to school ever since I last saw him. I’m afraid, he’s not coming because his gang’s no longer looking to deal in the school after my polite persuasion.

I kick the stalls open to make sure that he isn’t around and actually find something interesting. There is a boy tied up in one of the stalls. It’s not Nick or another bystander scared shitless. Who would have the guts to tie him up to the toilet seat? No one wants another hole in their ass!

The boy is young, a junior, whom I remember seeing a week or so ago. I remember worrying that he’ll be bullied because he had rushed out with a roll of toilet paper hanging from his ass.

Today, he’s tied to the seat with his mouth gagged. His bag emptied on the wet floor. Someone had even taken a dump in the toilet and thrown his broken glasses inside. I guess his bullies wanted to humiliate him thoroughly.

They will probably laugh at him for wearing those glasses too. They will also give him a nickname like shit stain or something.

It is really menacing stuff.

He’s not bodily harmed as far as I can see. But his eyes are red from crying indicated by the dried-up tear marks left on his face. He looks at me but doesn’t plead. I guess many boys must have been through the stalls and none of them freed him. So he no longer believes anyone to help him. They probably laughed at him too—such a poor guy.

He doesn’t react when I untie him. He doesn’t flinch and simply watches me. I remove the gag and he takes a deep breath that chokes him. He coughs for a while and the tears finally find a way out of his eyes past his defenses. He drops his head to hide them from me. I give him some space until he quiets down. He stops crying soon but refuses to move. He remains sitting in the stall with his head down, holding onto the toilet seat for dear life.

“Don’t you want to get back to class? The bells going to ring soon, you know.” The question makes him flinch. His head drops further, now completely hidden behind his knees.
“Are your classmates bullying you?” I ask but he doesn’t reply.
“At least tell me your name.”
“Tom,” Finally, he whispers.
Well, it’s a start. “Anyways, let’s get you up first.”  

I pull him up to his feet and he whispers out a thanks. I guess he’s not in a daze. I wait for him to say something when he unexpectedly goes to fetch his glasses from the toilet, only to throw them in the trash.
“You could have left them in…” I whisper unconsciously.
I guess he heard me because he replies, “But if someone accidentally flushed them down the drain and they got stuck in the pipes then Mr. Robinson will be in trouble.”
“Who’s Mr. Robinson?”
“Huh, He’s the janitor,” Tom says while pulling another pair of glasses from his bag.

Has he come prepared knowing that he will lose his gasses? And he knows the janitor's name… How long have they been bullying him?

I don’t think I have ever felt bad for anyone, but that’s how I feel for him right now. There are some people who deserve all the bad that happens to them, but this boy doesn’t deserve a lick of what he’s been through. I help him pick up his stuff from the floor and while doing so ask him if he needs help with anything else.

“Like what?” He asks me innocently. God, I want to make his bullies beg him for mercy.
“Like getting even with your troublemakers,” I say, unable to control my laughter.

Tom doesn’t react the way I believed. He shudders at the thought of going against his bullies. He tugs hard at the straps of his bag. He thinks about it for a moment as I inferred from his stare, and then realizing it was not what he wanted to do, he runs out of the washroom without looking back for the second time. I do try to stop him, but for a boy so traumatized, he is fairly quick on his feet. Before I can get out of the washroom, he has disappeared. I find empty hallways staring at me in curiosity. Perhaps wondering why I am in such a hurry.

Sighing, I let it be for the moment.

The bell hasn’t rung yet, but there are sparsely any students out in the hallways. The thought of going late to class does pass through my insidious mind. It would be fun to insinuate Mr. Adams, but I shake my head at it and enter the class on time.

I guess my timely appearance surprised my fellow classmates.

The chatter diminishes at my entrance. I look around to see if Mr. Adams has already arrived. But no such luck.

“Holly fuck,” I hear from the middle of the classroom.
“What’s he doing here so early?” Someone utters from the back
“Is Mr. Adams late?” A girl says.

I ignore the muttering and look for Emily. I find her staring at me in surprise from the middle of the classroom. I guess even she didn’t expect me to be on time.

I wink to her on the way toward her seat and she snorts in return to convey her mood. The guy who’s sitting behind her sees me and lets out an audible groan. He doesn’t even give me the chance to ask him to leave the seat, simply picks up his bag and goes to the back of the room. I guess he has learned to comply. I take the seat beside Em who quickly turns around and holds my hand.

My eyebrows rise in return to her aggression. What happened to my sweet chocolate cookie!

“What’s wrong?” She asks and I know she’s concerned. I guess Ashley isn’t the only one who can see right through me.
“Are all you girl’s psychic or something?”
Emily frowns. The hand clenches tighter. “What other girls have you been talking to?”

“You know, there are so many of them.” I wait for her response and continue when there is none. “You know there are Ashley and Angel. You know them. And…” She’s so cute when she squints. “And there is Rachel.” I guess it isn’t the name she’s expecting to hear because it makes her snort.

“Why do you think there’s something wrong with me?” I ask her after she calms down.

She says, “Haven’t you noticed? You haven’t been talking much since…”
“Sine what?” I ask curiously.
“Since our date,” She says without batting her eyes. Though her cheeks do redden some.
“Oh,” Girls are so selfish. Does she think I’m acting strange because of our date? Wait a minute. “So you acknowledge that it was a date?”
She clicks her tongue to show her disgust. All right, I deserve that. She doesn’t pull her hand back however which shows that all of her reactions are artificial. She’s sensible in just the right places.

“You know what I like about you?”
”What?” Her face lights up. Isn’t she already beautiful enough? What will she be like in her twenties? I hope I’ll be around to see that.
“I like that you are not just a sweet chocolate cookie. You have some temper too. Not much, but just enough to spice things up a little,”
“So you like my temper, huh?”

It’s quite painful when a girl playfully stabs her nails into your hand. Especially when she smiles to show you that she’s enjoying every bit of your pain.

I pat Emily’s hand to reassure her that I’m enjoying it too, that she can stop it now.

Emily stops stabbing me and suddenly she grows all serious. The smile fades, replaced by a worried stare. She asks, “Did you find Nick’s whereabouts?”
 
How does she know about this? Who told her? The only one who knows that I visited the apartments is either Lucas or his gang, and Nick. Actually, there is one more person who could have helped her connect the dots.

 “What did Sky tell you?” My voice grows heavy. I wasn’t trying to scare her. But it makes Emily flinch.

She tries to pull her hand back. I don’t let her. I clench her hand hard without a hint of mercy. This is not her fight. The things involving Nick and the gang are too dangerous for her and others. I don’t want to involve her in this. This is not her problem.

“He didn’t tell me anything.” She says.
“Then why can’t you meet my eyes?” I grab her chin with my other hand and pull her face back toward me.

She panics when she finds my unblinking eyes staring at her.

“I know you are worried about me,” I tell her. I release her chin. She doesn’t look away this time and waits patiently for my words.
 
“But I’m fine. And He’s fine.” I say. That’s what I believe anyway. “Nick was only attending this school because his gang wanted him to sell weed here. Now that his gang is no longer interested in our school, they don’t need him here anymore. I believe it won’t be long before he drops out.”

“But,” I see worry in her eyes and reassure her that it’ll be fine.
“I have realized my wrongs. I was wrong to try to change his ways. He’s what he is. I can’t change that nature of him.”

“You weren’t wrong,” Emily says aloud, loud enough to get everyone’s attention. She has never been afraid of saying the things on her mind. And never has she been afraid of others' eyes.

“You weren’t wrong.” She says again, this time softly. More sensibly. “You did what you thought was right. It's just that your actions didn’t reach a favorable outcome.”

“A favorable outcome? Are we studying economics or something?”

“Can’t you shut up for a second?” Emily slaps my shoulder with her free hand before continuing her thoughts. “My mother always tells me that change doesn’t happen overnight. Most habits form over a long period. It takes excruciating amounts of effort to create something from nothing. As you said, Nick is what he is. He has his own thoughts. He firmly believes that he can only get out of poverty by selling drugs. You can’t change that with words alone. It will only happen if he himself believes that he can make a decent living on the bright side.”

Holly shit! Em’s right. I have been thinking about this whole thing the wrong way. I have been trying to find a single-point solution for a problem that’s too deeply rooted in our society. Like Em said: change doesn’t happen overnight. I need to start small. Do things that I can do and leave the rest to tomorrow. There is no need to think about how the southern gangs will react once the sets loose all their leaders at once. I will deal with those things as they come.

Before long, Mr. Adams enters the classroom and the class starts. While others get busy studying mathematics, I start planning Nick’s road to redemption. For him to see that it’s possible to make a decent living on the bright side, a few things need to change. First, the gangs need to disband. Which I know is impossible, because that’s their culture. So the best I can do is make the gangs change their mode of operation -- Instead of selling drugs, they need to start selling dreams, dreams of a brighter future. For that to happen all the drugs and guns need to go.

I guess I have to visit the police headquarters after all.