Sage of Heaven

With the windows closed, the noises from outside were faint. Squawking geese flew overhead as high school soccer players dodged their offerings during practice. Inside, there were only two audible noises - the hands of the clock above the door and the murmur of music from Eva Madrigal’s iPod. It was the latter that drew Bobby Wong’s attention; not the music but the person listening to it. He watched her and admired how comfortable she was with herself. Everyday, without exception, Eva wore black boots; either biker or Doc Maarten’s. Her ensemble would also include black fingerless gloves, a black shirt or blouse and, if it was a cooler day, tight black jeans or leather pants. If the mercury hit, at least, say, sixty, she’d wear a black flowing skirt with black fishnets underneath.

The school bell made a soft toot. Mr. Whitley raised his head, the one and only time he turned away from the papers he was grading, and peered over the top edge of his half-moon glasses.

“Okay, people. You’re done. Whatever you did, don’t do it again,” he said.

Eva got up and bee-lined for the door. Bobby watched her and noticed how nicely her jeans hugged her body.

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” It was Joey Mitchell. He had been waiting outside and came in as the bell rang. Blonde and muscular, but not in a steroid using body builder sort of way, Joey was the exact opposite of Eva. Wearing a navy blue tennis shirt, collars turned up of course, under a white v-neck Polo sweater with sky blue trim, he was the All-American boy next door. Khakis and canvas boat shoes, naturally worn without socks, and a Top Gun Maverick haircut crowning a chiseled face completed the look.

“Yeah, it’s not bad,” Bobby said smiling. “Bye Eva. See you tomorrow.”

Eva didn’t say anything but she did turn around, without changing the rhythm of her gait, and gave Bobby a blank stare. The look was cold but not unwelcoming. She looked at him, with bat-like radar, until she got to the door, avoiding a collision with the frame. She made a sharp right and disappeared into the corridors.

“Good going Romeo,” Joey said. “But, I wouldn’t stress about it. She’s not your type.”

“Oh, no? And I suppose she’s yours.”

‘No, she’s not my type,” Joey said. “It's just that I’m everyone’s type.”

Bobby rolled his head and flashed his friend an ‘are you kidding me?’ look. Meanwhile, Mr. Whitley stood up, his worn leather satchel repacked with his students’ homework.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Don’t hang around here, too long. You can’t be here without supervision and I have to leave.”

“Yes, Sir, Mr. Whitley,” Joey said. “Just picking up my friend here. Making sure he doesn’t get into any more trouble.”

“Very well, Mr. Mitchell.” Mr. Whitley shook his head and let go of a slight smile as he headed out.

“You know, he’s not like the other Asian kids,” Joey continued. “He’s a little bit of a troublemaker and he’s really bad at math.”

Mr. Whitley stopped and turned around. He peered over the top rim of his glasses again, this time eyeing Joey down.

“Very funny, Joey, but not very appropriate. Now, get out of here, both of you, before I change my plans and extend this detention.”

Bobby picked up his backpack and the two of them left the room.

“Dude,” Bobby started. “Remind me again why I let you be my friend.”

“Because it makes you look good. It’s charity work hanging out with second rate wannabes like you,” Joey chuckled.

“Dude, you’re such an ass,” Bobby said. “Are you ever going get over yourself?”

Joey just smiled, a wide toothpaste commercial grin. “Come on,” he said. “We’re late again. Sifu is going to kill us.”