Chapter Thirty-Three: the Boy with the Smile

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If you don't know what a spoken word poem is, I suggest checking out the video on the side-->

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PS. This is the second last chapter (The next is the Epilogue) so please, I'd appreciate it if you let me know that you've been reading this story. Thanks. 

Hope you like it!

PS. If this chapter seems off to you, it's prbobably because I wrote Alana's POV before Josh's and some things might not be consistant.

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June

 

Joshua

I tucked the battery into my camcorder, beside the memory card and shut the slot.  Today, unlike most days I wasn’t awakened by my alarm clock which was set for six o’clock, signaling me to start my morning jog and prepare for school, no, at dawn I was woken by the sound of my phone. 

            Alana’s sister, Kathryn continuously called me until my ears rung from annoyance. I had to film Alana’s performance.

            My phone buzzed again, and I reeled it out of my phone, not bothering to look at who called me. “One more thing, when’s lunch?”

            I told her the time, placing back my camcorder in its bag, and unzipping a small pocket to check it I had extra battery. “Good luck getting past the staff. You’ll be a beacon with uniform.”

            “Why? They never cared much about it before?”

            “Beats me. After grade nine, they became stricter.”

            She was silent—I pictured her narrowing her eyes. “I wonder why?”

            “Don’t ask me.” I shrugged, too busy to think up a theory. “So you done with all the calls?”

            “We’ll see.” She hung up.

            I exhaled loudly, raking my fingers through my hair. It was still wet from the shower, dampened the collar of my shirt. I exhaled loudly, and slung the camcorder bag over my chest. I took my messenger bag on another shoulder, stiffening under the weight of my math textbook.

            I wanted to review the examples so I could help Alana. The answers in math came easy to me that I hardly showed my work, however it has its disadvantage, such as helping your girl understand math.

            I made my way downstairs, and into the kitchen. John was chugging down eggs and toast while watching the news and Eve was reading a book on the dining table.  The whole house had an open concept, ideal for entertaining.

            “Aren’t you going to eat something?”

            “Mom and I are going for breakfast,” she told me, not bothering to make eye contact.

            “When’d they arrive? Why didn’t you tell me they were here?” I failed to mask my excitement. Questions after questions came out of my parents, unsure how to handle their presence. “Did they say anything about me?”

            “They came in midnight so we didn’t have much time to speak,” Eve answered all those questions with one simple statement.

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