The rest of the term was eventful. I found myself becoming more serious with school and less particular about bullying. Some students still feared me because they thought I was just faking. A few got comfortable having me around. Teachers were surprised at my improvement. My family…well, let's just say they never paid attention so they didn't notice any difference. It didn't faze me because I was not looking forward to their approval - in fact, I'd have been surprised if they noticed anything new.
I took Jimi to see places and do things he always dreamed of seeing - whenever we were able to sneak him out of the house. He seemed to grow stronger with every new place he visited or new thing he did. I could not but marvel at the light in his eyes and the shine of his face whenever I dropped him off. He always looked forward to the next outing. Now I think of it, I wonder what exactly that security guard was paid for. He never once suspected what was going on because he was continuously having his Zzzzz's. Jimi's parent's always assumed he was in bed by 10 pm. Oh, were they wrong!
One Saturday morning I got a call from Jimi. "Hey Chris, I'd like to meet with you briefly at The Inn just down the road from my place. I've been able to get permission to meet with you."
"Alright," I said, "I'll be there in 15 minutes."
The Inn was a two phased hang out spot. During the day time it was mostly used as a restaurant or diner but at night it doubled as a night club and bar. The manager saw that as his best means of diversifying and maximizing profit. It was not a really big room so when I stepped into The Inn, I spotted Jimi immediately. He was sitting at the end of the row of tables close to the back of the room. His face brightened when he saw me. Waving and almost standing he called to me, "Chris, come over here." It almost sounded like he was shouting.
I carefully found my way to his table and took a sit in front of him. "How're you doing today, old man? Where's mummy?" He had gotten used to receiving greetings from me this way. He initially made a fuss about it but when I refused to budge he came up with one for me.
"Is that how you greet the elderly? Tsk, tsk,tsk. Children of nowadays." He knew I definitely disliked being referred to as a child but I had to accept it if I wanted to continue calling him an old man.
"What's new? I was surprised to get that call. Is something wrong?"
"No, not at all. I just had something to tell you." He paused then gathering himself, said, "I won't be coming to school anymore. I'll be travelling and it's going to be a long one. Dunno if I'll be back."
It took me a while to comprehend what he said. "So you're finally leaving us," I said. He nodded, happy that I understood what he was trying to say to me. Then I asked, "What's the next country you're going to settle in?"
"Uh…well…uhm," he stuttered, "When I get there I'd send you a post card."
I did not like the reply but had to accept this response. I ordered some scones and juice. While I waited to be served, he said, "This new place I'm going to, I hear that I can be fixed. I'll be a proper 17 year old again. Everything will be the way it ought to be."
"Whoa, whoa! I thought you said Progeria was not curable. You've tried all the solutions you thought were available and got nothing. Why are you giving yourself so much hope again? Everyone already likes you the way you are and no one makes you feel out of place. You're the toast of the town."
"I know but this trip is not voluntary. It's out of my hands now. I don't call the shots anymore. I have to accept whatever I'm told and whatever happens to me."
"Okay, okay," I said, raising both hands in surrender, "Whatever you say, gramps. Let's talk about something else." At that point my freshly baked, warm scones were brought with a chilled bottle of juice and glasses. We talked the rest of the morning about every other thing.
Once upon a time a Russian, an American and a Blond sat at a bar. And at that bar they pondered on the terrible things that each had experienced in their short life. Swigs from their mugs could do little to cheer their sorrowing hearts; for nothing, it seemed could spark joy and happiness again.
The Russian, in a bid to lighten the mood blurted out with nonchalance, "We were the first to get to space. That's one good thing to be glad about." But he remained melancholic.
Once upon a time a Russian, an American and a Blonde sat at a bar. And at that bar they pondered on the terrible things that each had experienced in their short life. Swigs from their mugs could do little to cheer their sorrowing hearts; for nothing, it seemed could spark joy and happiness again.
The Russian, in a bid to lighten the mood blurted out with nonchalance, "We were the first to get to space. That's one good thing to be glad about." But he remained melancholic.
The American nodding said into his mug, "At least we are the first to land on the moon." Another swig from the mug and he was back in thoughts.
The Blonde, in a bid to be glad for something said, "We will be the first to land on the sun."
The Russian and the American took a lazy look at the Blonde.
"What the hell you talkin' 'bout?" said the American.
"Blondie is stupid. You will burn before reaching the sun," the Russian said in a harsh accent.
Putting the mug down and feeling insulted, the Blonde said angrily, "Do you think we blondes are stupid? We'll wait till night before landing on the sun."
Results from the forensics team were on her table. Pat looked at them over and over again and still remained befuddled. They now had a suspect but it still did not play out well to Detective Pat. The forensics team had found some hair samples on the clothing and with DNA testing traced the origin of the hair to a Nichols Brandon. Now Nichols was also a student of the college. He was in the football and basketball teams. His grades were ok and he seemed normal. After giving the situation a lot of thought she decided to call Nichols in for questioning. She got a team, well armed and drove over to Nichols's dormitory to arrest him.
On getting to his room, she knocked twice, announcing who she was and asking that the door be opened. There was no reply and after a second knock Pat and her team armed themselves and tried to open the door. It was locked so one of her men had to break it down. Pat and her men moved into the room cautiously fanning out as they entered.
The room was a self contained apartment. An open area divided into a sitting and dining room. There was a door to their left that was the entrance to the bedroom and one to the right opened into the little kitchen; a very decent and clear room in total.
Suddenly there a scream and a gunshot and one of the officers went down wounded. All hell broke loose. There was rapid firing from the officers and the shooter until the shooter went down. Luckily for Pat and her officers, no other person was hurt. Pat approached the area where the man fell and removed the lamp that fell with him. It was Nichols Brandon and he was dead. By now students had started poking their heads in to see the result of the little battle. The case was over, even though it wasn't closed in the way Detective Pat would have wanted. The killer was found…and dead.
Results from the forensics team were on her table. Pat looked at them over and over again and still remained befuddled. They now had a suspect but it still did not play out well to Detective Pat. The forensics team had found some hair samples on the clothing and with DNA testing traced the origin of the hair to a Nichols Brandon. Now Nichols was also a student of the college. He was in the football and basketball teams. His grades were ok and he seemed normal. After giving the situation a lot of thought she decided to call Nichols in for questioning. She got a team, well armed and drove over to Nichols's dormitory to arrest him.
Suddenly there a scream and a gunshot and one of the officers went down wounded. All hell broke loose. There was rapid firing from the officers and the shooter until the shooter went down. Luckily for Pat and her officers, no other person was hurt. Pat approached the area where the man fell and removed the lamp that fell with him. It was Nichols Brandon and he was dead. By now students had started poking their heads in to see the result of the little battle. The case was over, even though it wasn't closed in the way Detective Pat would have wanted. The killer was found…and dead.