Home ~ Literature/Stories ~ Chasing Chaise

      Senior year should be the easiest year of a student’s high school career. That becomes difficult when there is a terrorist lurking in the shadows of the halls. Honestly, I don’t know how she managed to walk across the stage or onto campus after what happened – then again, I do.
      Chaise Johnson was one of the few fine girls in our school who preferred a book over some guy’s bed. She was somewhat tall, 5’6” or 5’8” I’d guess, with skin the color of chocolate. Honestly, the only thing that stopped me from trying to ask her out was her stubborn attitude. She was a pearl, but to get to her, a brother’d have to pry open the clam’s steroid pumped shell while avoiding the sharks overhead. At first, everyone attempted the deadly dive, but now there are only two fools standing outside of the aquarium, looking in.
      The first fool is the one who sits next to her: me. Granted, I’m mainly a spectator. While I could get what I want, when I want (good looking as I am), I prefer to spend my time and energy on sports, not girls. I just won’t make a move if it won’t bring home the gold.
      Unfortunately for her, the other fool sits behind her. His name, Curtis Myers. Curtis was short, beyond black, and looked like a mix between Mel Gibson and some black guy. He was one of those annoying creeps who complained about too much and used his foreignness as an excuse. I never paid him too much attention, but I did notice how he bothered Chaise.
      We had a couple of minutes to talk at the end of a dull day in class, and I happened to notice Chaise’s expression while Curtis bothered her.
     "Hey, you’re Chaise, right? The writer,” I asked, even though I knew full well who she was. When she nodded, her face showed her dwindling tolerance towards more pestering. I continued, “Look, I have something I’ve been working on; could use some critiquing.”
     "After class fine?” she relaxed slightly as I nodded.
      She had caught on to my desire to help, but I could tell she didn’t trust my true intentions. It was fine by both of us, because the bell rang, ending class and the day. As agreed, I prepared to meet in the hall after class, unfortunately, Chaise had jetted out before I could pack up, and right behind her was Curtis. By the time I got into the hall, he had her pinned to a locker. Even from where I was a few feet away, I could see the threat in his face and the anger mixed with fear in hers.
     "Excuse me…” I wedged my arm, then shoulder, between their bodies, prying him away, “but I have an appointment, and she’s booked.” I grinned and waved as he backed down to my superior size and strength.
     "There you go picking on me because I’ve only been here for a year. That’s fine though, I’ll get you later.” He finally left.
     "That fool doesn’t know what he’s saying.” I turned to Chaise. “I’ve seen him poking at you…”
     "No, I’m sorry but no, that’s nothing compared to what he does outside of class and school. It seems like everywhere I look, he’s there with that…” she paused after interrupting me, her face mixing between fear and disgust as she tried to find the right word, “face.”
      I had known Curtis was a little off, but what I thought was nothing compared to what I learned as I took Chaise home that afternoon. I stuck by Chaise’s side as much as I could, helping to fend off the annoying predator, Curtis. Throughout the school year and summer we were practically inseparable. It wasn’t that I was obsessed or anything; things just kind of happened and neither of us minded the company, except Curtis of course.
      Now we’re together by way of mail, phone calls, and the internet (seeing as how we’re both in college). While I’m happy, she sounds like everything is fine and going fairly normal for her, I can’t help but wonder if she still sleeps with her eyes open.

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