Tinted Shades

Chapter Eight: New Boy Not So New

BRIAN,

Head spinning. Nausea. Practically the  worst hangover in my recent memory. Not that I remember the other times I got drunk that is. Thank God I got home safe from drinking God knows what with God knows who. And to think I’m to go to school the next day. Raw eggs and ale, I hear it helps with the hangover.

Its Monday, all dressed up. Blood eyes, eye bags and a stench from my mouth. “At least I didn’t die from alcohol poisoning” I tried convincing myself.

Good shave on my head, sharp shirt on my body, sagging my tie coz my girl liked it that way. On top of it all, my blazer. Damn that thing was fine. Fitted me just right and had some Chinese symbols on the back that I had copied from the back of a recorder package. It could mean anything from “made in China” to “this recorder is fake” but it made my blazer pop so I was cool with it. I brushed my teeth before leaving the house but once at the foyer seated with my mum I did the occasional breath checks. Ever gone to the house of a fish monger? My mouth smelled like a combination of the two. 

“Mum, you have some breath mints…” She got into her purse and got out a packet of orbit real quick and gave me that disappointed look I’ve seen since I was born.

“You there! Go to 3 east and call for me Ted.” My class teacher shrugged. Trust me the voice was as unpleasant as the one who owns it. A brief description perhaps? She had glasses with lenses thicker than her thighs that means there were no assets to look at from the waist down. Not saying from the waist up was any appealing. She had a daughter who quite frankly everyone from our class wished to see her head on a spike or under a sugarcane tractor but the biggest question was how the hell did she breast feed her! There was nothing on her chest. It was more like an ironing board than a chest.

“Good morning mama Brian. Mmefika? That’s good” 

“He had to change his glasses that why he delayed coming back” my mum said.

“I actually wanted us to discuss his conduct kidogo because we haven’t been in the best terms with him. We’ve locked horns quite a number of times.”

“Brian, what’s wrong!”

“Dont bother asking, he has proven to be a compulsive liar…”

“Wow, do you even know the meaning of compulsive…” I muttered under my breath. This was going to be one of those long lectures but then Scott came in and madam Lorna changed the topic.

“Anza kuelezea mama yako what games you are ring leading in class. Ati sijui dstv. Mama Ted,tell your son to explain himself.” Spat Lorna. I tried to hold back my laughter but damn, I couldn’t. A subtle giggle manage its way out of me. 

“These ‘dick heads’, they started the game without me and got caught.” I said to myself as Lorna gave the go ahead for me to go to class. I grabbed my shopping and told my mum bye then left before she could get the chance to ask me questions. Along the corridor my shoes made my presence known. They were Italian leather soled Faschino shoes. I say that with no disrespect to those who wore those loaf shaped toughese shoes, i needed some class, don’t blame me. Whenever I walked my shoes clanked when I hit the ground. It was fun but not without ridicule. Dan used to blame me for all the potholes in the school. My shoes also brought positive attention. I would pass near a flock of gossiping girls and with the sound of my shoes you could hear hushes and feel the eyes gleaming at me as I walked by. Silent mutters. I bet they were complimenting my shoes or ass.

Through the long pavement to the tuition block to finally my class. Five minutes after settling and I knew all the go downs of the past two weeks thanks to my desk mate Grace.