The Enchanted Book
By
Kelvin O’Ralph
*****
SMASHWORDS EDITION
*****
The
Enchanted Book
Copyright
© 2011 Kelvin O’Ralph
This book is dedicated to my special fan and friend, Amy Vickers. Besides God, you were my light in my darkest tunnel and I thank you for everything you’ve done.
Chapter One
The Enchanted Book
"Hey, where's my food, boy?" my stepfather yelled. He always yelled.
I increased my pace as I placed a bagel in his favorite china and added the scrambled eggs from the pan.
"I hope you aren't sleeping in there?" he asked.
Hearing this, I slid out the tray from the wooden cupboard above me and placed his food on it. My hands trembled as I carried the tray out of the kitchen. Some people would get used to such lifestyle, but I wasn't. Every time my stepfather screamed at me, I felt so scared and worried as though it was the first time.
I pushed the kitchen door and ran to the dining room, carrying the tray in my arms. One would think I hurried because of the blisters I got due to the hot food, but the main reason I ran to the dining room was to serve my stepfather on time. I'd rather burn my arm than get grounded; unlike most high school seniors, the term ‘grounding’ meant working at my father's garage all day and skipping school, during which he'd phone my school and inform them of my absence. Sometimes he claimed I was ill, sometimes he lied I was still in bed. It was his word against mine.
Getting to the dining, I met my grumpy stepfather reading through a newspaper. We didn't look alike in any way; then again we weren't even related by blood. He was short, fat and had a mustache covering his upper lip. Although I wasn't as tall as a basketball player, at least I was tall enough to reach for the top cupboard in the kitchen. He had a dainty black colored hair that was slowly deteriorating, and I had a golden colored hair that fell on my light skinned face.
Sometimes I wondered what my late mom had seen in him. Late? Yeah, my mom died when I was a toddler and ever since then, I've lived under the guidance and protection of my stepfather.
"Where's the ketchup?" he asked looking at the butter.
"Oh," I exclaimed.
"Call this your lucky day, boy. If today was a school day, you'd be grounded." He dropped the newspaper beside his food. "What are you still looking at? Go get me some ketchup," he yelled.
"Yes, sir," I replied.
"Foolish boy," he grumbled as I ran out of the room.
I raced into the kitchen and slammed the door behind me. My hands quivered as I rested on the wooden door. There was no way in the world I could get used to my stepfather's nags.
The ketchup in question sat on the kitchen slab that was close to the sink. I reached for it and returned to the dining room to give it to him.
"You know, I don't really understand why you want to go to college," he said.
"Huh?"
"You should consider becoming a full time chef." He took a gulp of the orange juice in front of him. "It's way better than dreaming of going to Harvard."
"You don't mean that," I said hoping he'd take back his words.
"On the contrary, I do. You should be really grateful. Unlike some kids, you earn money from two different jobs," he said.
"Some kids have people who pay for their feeding and clothing," I stated frowning.
He stared at me looking irritated, while I should have been the irritated one. Bits of bagel and eggs were scattered around his lips, and the ketchup he'd requested was spilled on his bushy moustache. For a rich man, my stepfather ate like a pig.
"Go find out what my sons would like to eat before they leave for their party," he said.
I nodded and left the room. Even though he was such a pain in the neck, he was the only hope of me going to my dream college - Harvard. The little I knew about my mother was that she'd attended Harvard and became a lawyer, just before the cold hand of death took her away in a car accident.
"Knock. Knock," I said behind the twins' door.
"Go away," one of the twins moaned.
"I'm coming in," I replied turning the door knob.
As I entered the room, the smell in it made me flinch. There isn't a word to describe the stench, so I'll just attempt to paint a picture with words. It was a mixture of rotten egg, stinky feet, decayed lobster and expired milk, plus many more. The room itself was in total mess; even with its humongous volume I could hardly see any space to move around. There were filthy clothes lying all over the marble floor. I looked closely and noticed the female clothes lying on the sofas. Seeing that, I turned to look at the twin king sized beds.
"Aren't you two going somewhere?" I said.
"Oh no, Willie," the taller one screamed moving to a sitting posture.
"I'm awake," William responded.
Meanwhile, the girls on their beds remained asleep as though they didn't hear the noise from the twins.
"What will you guys like for breakfast?" I asked holding my nose.
Richard turned to look at his brother on the other bed.
"Richie will have some peanut butter sandwiches and I'd like some mac and cheese, and oh yes, don't leave it too long on the oven this time around," said William.
The two brothers laughed at the memory of their father scolding me after my first attempt in preparing macaroni and cheese. I had to stay up all night just to practice how to make a tasteful macaroni and cheese meal.
I turned back to leave the room and as I strode towards the door, I felt the soft touch of a cushion hit my head. Looking back, I met Richard's cheeky grin. Apparently, he'd forgotten his stepbrother's name.
"How can I help you?" I asked.
"When you're finished with our breakfast, do check with the ladies and find out what they'd eat," said Richard.
I smiled and walked out of the smelling room. The thought of cleaning up the room made me shudder as I shuffled to the kitchen to prepare my stepbrothers' breakfast.
After some minutes in the kitchen, I served their food on the dining table and proceeded to their room to inform them. Walking towards their room, I glanced at the time on the wall clock in the hallway, which then made me increase my speed. It was almost time for work and I needed to be at least half an hour early. Sucked right?
"Your breakfast is served." I laughed.
"What's so funny, Jimmy?" asked William.
He was dressed in a slim fitted t-shirt, a pair of jeans and a fitted cap. Okay right? Now imagine a 4 feet young adult who was slowly becoming friends with obesity, wearing such. Then the laughter kicks in. I could see the thick layers of fat showing as he stretched the poor polo t-shirt. His chest looked like a teenager's breasts and his stomach looked exactly like his dad - big and round. The good news was, he wasn't a hairy person and so didn't have the ridiculous mustache his father had.
"Looking good, Richie," I said grinning.
"Why, thank you. I told you I could pull this off," he said to William.
Pull this off? I clearly doubted that; maybe he could when he was six years younger and with some extra weight. Even then, I doubt he'd have been able to pull off a three-quarter pants suit. Now, being 6 feet tall, Richard felt this suit looked good on him. His off white socks wasn't even long enough to cover his hairy legs, and the bogus suit made him look like a scare crow. Something told me they'd worn each other's outfits, but apparently they didn't see it that way.
Richard and William were perfect example of fraternal twins. No one could even guess they were brothers, let alone twins; most people assumed they weren't related because of their looks. I was among this group of people until I came across their birth certificates one morning while cleaning their father's room.
"Now, you can ask the ladies what they'll like to eat," said William.
I turned to look at their beds and saw the girls wrapped under the duvets of both beds. Just then, I remembered something very important.
"Hey, I hope you ladies won't mind if I leave you to do the cooking. I'm already running late for work," I said.
"Oh, no problem, you're free to go to work," the girl on Richard's bed said.
"Yeah, we'll prepare our breakfast. Thanks," the other one said.
I smiled and left the room, wondering what the two beautiful girls had seen in my goofy stepbrothers; perhaps, their money. Well, I wasn’t one to conclude or judge.
As I arrived in my room, I packed my work clothes in a bag and tidied the room. It took me less than ten minutes to do so, whereas if I was tidying the twins' room it would have taken me over thirty minutes. I believe it was because of the difference in the size of both rooms, coupled with the fact that my stepbrothers were really messy. Though there were six bedrooms in the house, my stepfather forced me to live in a small cubicle which was once used as a store room on the ground floor. The two twins shared one room, my stepfather had two rooms: one for his casual affairs and the other for his alone time. The remaining three rooms were used to entertain the two boys; a gym, an arcade room and their very own lounge.
I glanced at my name tag which read Jimmy J. Evans. The J stood for Jeff and was my middle name, at least according to my birth certificate. No one ever called me that or even cared to know what the J stood for. Frankly, I wasn't bothered. The drama that went on every day at home was enough to destabilize me.
"Jimmy," my stepfather yelled.
I winced at the pitch of his voice as my heart throbbed. What have I done this time? I thought.
"Jimmy," he screamed again.
In haste, I carried my bag and headed to the dining room to meet him, knowing the yell had come from there.
"You're running late again," he nagged as I arrived.
"I'm so sorry. I was making breakfast for the boys."
He stared at me with a mischievous look as though I wasn't saying the truth.
"Well, hurry then. If I find out you arrived a minute late to work, I'll cut the entire hour off your pay," he said.
"Yes, sir," I replied turning to leave the room.
"Wait," he screamed. "Mike asked for an extra battery for one of the cars, so I bought a new one and kept it in the basement."
"The basement?" I asked.
"Yeah, do you have a problem with that?'
"Not really, but I thought no one's allowed to enter the basement?"
"You're right. However, I created that rule so I can bend it whenever I please. Now, get going and don't be late," he said.
I nodded and rushed out of the room.
Arriving in front of the basement, I stopped to look at the little cardboard placed on the door. It read: 'Keep away". I traced the letters with my fingers until I stopped at the last letter, still trying to figure out what the note meant and why it was placed there.
I turned the doorknob and switched on the lights of the staircase. The cold air in the room ran over my skin causing me to shiver as I climbed down the stairs. I reached for the switch, but it was broken.
"Perfect," I grumbled.
The entire room was dark and cold; the only light around was coming from the staircase. I could hardly see any object. Slowly, I groped for the box of the battery with my hands. At last, I got to an object and caressed it with my hands to identify it; it seemed like a box and so I picked it up. In the process of lifting the box, another object fell on the floor. I carried the box in my hands and moved towards the stair case without stopping to look at what had fallen down.
"Got it," I smiled as I saw the box under the light of the stairs.
Climbing up the stairs, something whispered in my head. You dropped something, the voice said. I frowned and dropped the box on the stairs. There was something I hated about me - my conscience. I couldn't get away with anything without the little voice hammering at me. Sometimes, I wished I could shut it off. Most times, I was grateful for having it.
Getting to the spot where the object had fallen, I bent down and fumbled around for it. My hands came in contact with a book-like object coated with leather. I picked it up and ran my hands through the spine. The dust on the book spread into my nostrils as I groped the book.
"Ah... Chew," I sneezed, dropping the book on the slab where it had been.
As I turned back to go to the door, I felt a warm current spread though my veins. Instantly, I turned to check out the source of the current and met the leather book glowing; the lining of the book was shining and the once dusty leather cover was gleaming.
"Woo," I exclaimed with my mouth opened.
The light of the book lit the entire room, so I inched closer towards it. My eyes were widened and my fingers trembling as I observed the sudden change of the room temperature while walking to the book. It grew colder every minute as though the book was an air conditioner.
I got to the book and picked it up, but ironically it was warm. I felt chills racing up my arms and down my spine as I held it. Where's the light coming from? I thought, looking at the book.
I reached for the edge of the book ready to read its contents, and found out the front and back covers were stuck to the book. I pulled the front cover, but it didn't move an inch. I continued trying to open the book, but all to no avail. After a few more attempts, I gave up and carried the book with me, plus the box I'd originally came for. The mystery behind this book intrigued me; so bad that I had to hide it under my clothes in my suitcase, knowing my stepbrothers wouldn't snoop around there.
Before I left for work, I took a last look at the book when all of a sudden some words appeared on the front cover of the book, written in gold ink.
I open at her touch, it read.
Chapter Two
First sight
As usual, I was the first to rise up on an early Monday morning. The twins and their father were still in bed, leaving me to carry out some early morning chores. This was the best time in the day for me to do some reading and homework, but instead my stepfather preferred I made breakfast and prepare the twins for school.
"Good morning," I greeted as my stepfather entered the kitchen.
"Have you ironed my clothes for today?" he asked.
"Yes sir," I said.
I was still feeling sleepy, nodding my head every few minutes while preparing the twins' food. George, my stepfather, shuffled to the coffee maker and poured a cup of coffee to start his day. He took the cup and left the kitchen without saying a word.
Still feeling sleepy, I turned to look at the clock on the wall and stretched my arms forward to strengthen my muscles. Then I moved towards the sink and washed my face with cold water, hoping to drive away the stubborn arms of sleep.
Soon, the food preparation was over and I had to carry out other house chores before the twins got ready for school. At that moment, I was more concerned about doing a good job than finishing the job.
I ambled to the ironing room, where a pile of clothes awaited my arrival.
"Oh my God," I grumbled. "Not this morning. I'm having history first period."
Amongst the subjects I studied at high school, I loved History the most. In fact, I always made sure I was seated on one of the front seats. The teacher, Miss Laura Bennett was one of the nicest being I'd ever come across. Aside from the fact I loved hearing about great men of the past, she was the reason I enjoyed history so much. Her method of approach to each student in class was overwhelming, but most important she knew when it was time to be stern.
Shortly, I started ironing some clothes and after an hour I was through with them. To be honest, I wasn't really bothered if I'd done a thorough job and there was no way my conscience could judge me, at least I did the job. As I stepped into the kitchen to check on the sandwiches I'd made, I found Richard grabbing a pack of sandwiches. He moved over to the fridge and took out a bottle of orange juice, then left the fridge open for yours truly to do the closing. Just like his dad, he was arrogant and self-centered. He strode past me without saying a word. Then, getting to the door he paused and turned back.
"Have you completed our homework?" he asked.
"Good morning to you too," I said moving to close the fridge door.
"So?"
"Yeah," I sighed. "I kept yours in your bag and William's in his."
"Thanks bro. You're amazing," he smiled and left the kitchen.
Though I didn't like the fact that I did most of the twins' homework, at the end of the day their happiness was very important to me. After all, they're family.
I rushed to my room and prepared for school. Already, I'd washed the twins' car and their father's as well. As for me, I rode a bicycle to high school. My stepfather didn't like the idea of me being in the driver's seat of any car, except I was driving him, and the only reason I agreed to this was because he offered to pay for my driving lessons - but on one condition - I drive him wherever he wanted to go.
Feeling ready to go to school, I went up to George's room and knocked on the door.
"It's open," his gruffer voice said.
I pushed open the door and took a baby step inside his gigantic room. I shuddered at the nature of the room. Unlike his sons', George's room was neat and clean. The fragranced candles gave the room a heavenly scent causing me to breathe rapidly. Although I was a toddler when my mom passed away, I could still remember her side of the room, which was transformed into a library.
"I'm ready to go to school," I said.
George stood up from his bed and went through an inner door which led to his office. I stood still staring at the room; as I looked to my left, a picture of my mom hung on the wall above his bed. Wincing, I placed my hand on my chest trying to perk up as my heart throbbed. It had been a while since I'd seen an image of her. George burnt all her personal properties and sold the rest. Now, seeing this image on the wall took me down memory lane; a place I didn't want to go.
"Here," said George as he walked into the room.
I flinched in fright, blinking my eyes to recover from the startle; maybe this was the reason George didn't allow me to enter his room frequently.
He threw his car keys in midair and I rushed to catch it, hitting my leg against an iron cabinet in the process. I felt the sharp pain on my knee, but bit my lip to keep me from screaming.
Still in pain, I carried his briefcase and left the room. I’d placed my school bag on the dining table, so I passed through the dining to grab it. I went outside to the garage and searched for my bicycle. After a long minute, I found it resting on William's old scooter. I carried the bicycle out of the garage and placed it inside the trunk of George's car, knowing I won't get on it until I dropped him at work.
Sitting on the driver's seat, I strapped the seat belt over my chest and placed the key in the ignition. The next step was to wait for George to stride out of the house. So I sat there, staring at the front door, praying he comes out soon. Already I knew I had missed some minutes of first period.
After a long wait, George strolled out of the house holding his iPhone on one hand and his blackberry on the other. Instantly, I fired the engine and drove towards the front door where he stood waiting for me.
"Did you collect my briefcase?" asked George as he entered the car.
"Yes sir," I replied smirking.
It's just sitting there, I thought shaking my head. One could easily tell where the twins got their brains from.
That morning, Plainfields was a bit sunny; the warm breeze swirled through my hair as I drove to the office. I loved times like this. I could feel the sun's heat on my light skin - soothing. In Plainfields, the green nature was her best asset; people would leave their hometowns to stay in Plainfields just because of the awesome weather. Even during winter, the weather was warm and cloudy.
We arrived at the office and I parked the car in its usual spot, then came down and opened the back door for George. He smiled and pointed at his briefcase.
"Yes, sir," I replied.
I moved to the other end of the car, collected his briefcase from the back seat and followed him to his office. George's garage was made of two sectors; the sales and repair section. In the sales department, new cars of various brands were sold at reasonable prices. Then in the repair department, used cars were brought in for repairs or restructuring. Being the founder, George named the company under his first name - George's Cars. His office was on the second floor of the sales building; its walls were made of glass. It gave the company an exotic look and even though everything was done by his assistant, he took all the credit.
George and I entered the lift to the second floor. He opened a tiny compartment on the steel wall and a keypad appeared. Then he keyed in some random letters and the red light beside the keypad turned green.
"Lift going to the second floor," a female voice said in the background.
I followed him to his big office and dropped his briefcase on the floor beside the desk.
"I'll give the keys to Henry," I said walking towards the exit door.
"Okay, make sure you clock in at the restaurant before 7," he replied.
"Yes sir."
I returned to the car and collected my school bag and bicycle, and rode to school. Though my helmet covered most of my facial region, I felt the warm breeze twirling over my face. It was a fifteen minutes' ride to school from the office and once I arrived, everywhere was scanty.
I grimaced as I parked my bicycle at the parking lot. Then I strapped my one handed bag across my chest and walked to nearest building that would lead me to history class.
The minute I stepped into the class, all eyes were fixed on me including the gorgeous Miss Bennett. The boys at the back laughed at me pointing at my ruffled hair.
"Come of it, boys," said Miss Bennett.
She moved over to meet me as I stood on the threshold. Then with one hand, she tucked my golden hair behind my ears and showed me to a seat at the front.
"Woo," the boys at the back chorused.
"Don't listen to them," whispered Miss Bennett.
I smiled and brought out my homework.
"Is it complete?" she asked.
"Yes, miss," I said.
She grinned and collected the paper from me. I could feel goosebumps growing on my skin as she walked back to her desk. She had a certain godly aura around her and every time she smiled, the boys in the class were hypnotized, including me. Sometimes, I wondered if she was the goddess of beauty; perhaps that's why she knew much about history.
I turned to look for my stepbrothers and found them sitting next to each other beside the window. They scowled as our eyes met, but I smiled instead knowing there was no good reason to frown.
As Miss Bennett stood up from her desk, a man dressed in a black suit entered the class. He inched closer to the teacher and gave her a note. Then he took one look at the class and left. Miss Bennett stood in front of the class as she read the note. After reading, she raised her head to the class and grinned.
"What's the matter, Miss Bennett?" Scott asked. He was the only boy wearing medicated glasses in my class and one of the brilliant few.
"You'll soon find out," she said, grinning.
Miss Bennett walked out of the class and stood just outside the threshold. Being opportune to sit close to the door, I spotted her discussing with the same man that had entered the class earlier on. He turned to look at his left and I followed him. Instantly, my heart started racing and I felt a sudden current flow through my veins. I could hardly breathe as I stared at the gorgeous girl beside the man. She looked like a British queen, but only hundred years younger. The color of her hair was wine and it fell perfectly down her shoulders. On her neck was a necklace made of shiny white stones; they tallied with her ear rings. Her eyes were like two warm blue spots swimming inside a white lake.
Unlike most students, her uniform, shoe and hair band were jet black. It was obvious she was from a wealthy family.
After a short discussion, Miss Bennett entered the room with the aforesaid girl by her side.
"Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to, Michelle Smith," said Miss Bennett. "Please, be nice to her. Michelle here just transferred from Melavolt and is going to be with us for the rest of the year."
As she said that, all the boys in the class wolf whistled except Scott and me.
"I’m sure you know she’s the first daughter of this great nation," said Miss Bennett.
Hearing this made students whisper side comments to one another. I glanced at the entire class and noticed the comments came from the boys.
"She's all mine," Charlie whispered to his minions. He was the quarter back of the baseball team, which gave him an irritable ego.
Just then, William rose up his hand. He seemed lost with the entire introduction.
"Yes William," answered the teacher.
"Is she the president's daughter?" he asked.
'Uh," the entire class chorused.
"Come off it, guys. There's no crime in asking a question," said Miss Bennett.
"Well, there should be just because of potato head here," said the notorious Austin.
"Quiet, Austin," scolded the teacher. She loved jokes but she hated insults.
"Well Michelle, do take a seat," gestured the teacher.
The girl smiled and moved to the seat beside mine and sat down. She removed her bag and placed it beside her legs and brought out a notepad to write on. Every move she made got the whole boys staring at her. Then as she crossed her legs, the boys behind her tried to stretch their neck to get a glimpse of her legs even though they were covered with black tights. One thing that marveled me about this girl was the fact that she was naturally beautiful and this was rare with the rich kids; their money was mostly the cause of their beauty. However, it wasn't the same with Michelle. She would look amazing even if she was a cleaner's daughter.
"Okay. Play time’s over, boys. Your eyes on the screen," the teacher said.
It took a while, but eventually everyone focused on the lecture and tried to forget about the gorgeous girl sitting in the front seat. Miss Bennett didn't like side comments going on in her classroom so there was no way I could say a word to the president's daughter.
After a while, the bell rang and Miss Bennett allowed us to leave the class. Charlie and his sidekicks followed Michelle out of the class, but unfortunately the same man that brought her to class was waiting for her outside. He took her school bag off her and walked slightly behind her. This made Charlie and his boys stand back and grumble about the outcome.
"I told you to wait in the car, Mike," she said.
"Sorry, Ma'am, I've been given orders to be with you throughout your period in school," he said.
Hearing this, I frowned and walked past them; my head bent down and my hands in my pants' pockets. There was little or no way of getting close to her. The hardened look on her bodyguard's face was enough to drive the boys away, including me.
My next class was Math, and the atmosphere was a bit different from History class, perhaps because of the person heading it. The teacher, Mr. Reynolds was very strict.
"Go stand at the back until I tell you to come back to your seat," he told Austin just because he'd passed a side comment.
As expected, he treated the president's daughter with respect and offered her the front seat. During the class, he often asked her if she needed anything but she was too modest to say yes. I guess he had no choice but to be nice to Michelle.
When it was time for lunch, I strode to the cafeteria hoping to grab a bite to eat before the next class. Unlike my stepbrothers, I wasn't able to eat breakfast, so I was famished. I filled my tray with two beef burgers, potato wedges and a slice of pizza. Then I placed an apple and a cup of strawberry yoghurt at the dessert section of the tray.
I saw my goofy stepbrothers sitting with their goofy friends and I knew it would take a miracle if they asked me join their table. Thus, I stood holding my tray and looking around for an empty table. There were the jocks on one table, the geeks on another; the rock stars were sitting together with their instruments kept under their table, the athletes on another table. Then I looked at the rear end close to window and saw a new table which was one quarter the size of the other tables. There was only one chair placed beside it, meaning only one thing - the seat of the president's daughter. There was a white silk cloth on top of the table and on the cloth were various kinds of food placed in a neat manner.
Soon, Michelle entered the cafeteria and as expected all eyes were on her, even the ladies serving food behind the counter. She walked to her seat like a fairy tale princess and sat down to eat. The man in black suit stood some inches behind her and crossed his arms over his abdomen. Meanwhile, I was still standing in front of the table looking for a place to eat. All the seats were occupied unless Michelle invited me to share her table and believe me, there was no hope of hearing that. So I left the cafeteria and headed to the only place I could eat - the restroom. I tried not to think of this place as where people do number one and two, but where they come in to gossip or in the case of ladies, powder their nose. This helped me to finish my meal in peace, or at least without throwing up. Also, I saw the ‘act of eating’ as putting something healthy in my stomach not enjoying the flavors or taste, and this helped me a lot, considering the kind of people I lived with.
When I finished eating, I left the restroom and rushed back to the cafeteria to drop my food tray. As I got there, I met everyone still eating and discussing. Michelle was eating and playing with an electronic device that I wasn't really conversant with. I left the room and headed to my next scheduled class - English.
My day at school came to an end with the last class being Music. It was a typical Jimmy Evans’ day, except for a new and huge change, the presence of Michelle - the president's daughter. Sadly, she left the building without having a chat with any of our classmates. Of course, there were the few 'hey' and 'hi', because face it even a girl like her would want to mix with friends. I guess that was the reason she came to school, because her dad could get her a home tutor but decided to send her to one of the best private schools in the area.
Chapter Three
Night at the cafe
That day after school, I rode my bicycle to my stepfather's cafe which was also named after him. As instructed, I arrived at the cafe a quarter to seven.
"You're right on time," yelled Chef Lang smiling. "How was school today?"
"It was good," I replied. "A new student came to my class today."
I dropped my school bag and reached for an apron on the iron hanger behind the steel door.
"That's nice," he said. "Maybe now you'll have a friend in your school."
"I doubt that; not that I don't want to be friends with this new student, she won't want to be friends with me."
"What do you mean?"
"She's the president's daughter."
Instantly, the spoon Chef Lang held fell into the deep fryer. He turned to look at me.
"Seriously? The president's daughter is now in your class?" His eyes were literally popping out of their sockets.
"Yeah, I know right? Not only is she wealthy, she's really gorgeous. I mean, she's breathtaking."
"Hmm, I'm I picking a love vibe from you," he said grinning.
"Nah, I don't think so. She's fine and all, but she's not my type," I said.
"Alright, if you say so,” he replied.
He stifled a chuckle, turned to look at his chips and pointed at the metal sink in the room.
"Start with the dishes," he said.
"Yes sir," I nodded.
"I've told you to stop call me that," he said frowning.
I smiled saying, "Okay, Brian."
I moved over to the sink and washed the dishes and cups in the sink, whether dirty or clean. Although there was a dish washer in the room, I usually washed the chunks off the plates before sending it through the washer; that way it made mine and dish washer’s jobs much easier.
"Guess what?" Chef Lang asked as he removed the chips from the deep fryer.
"What?"
"My wife's pregnant," he said smiling. I noticed how his grin stretched across his face.
"That's amazing, si... Brian. Have you found out the sex of the baby?"
"Yeah, she’s a baby girl."
"Aw, congrats, I'm so happy for you and Kimora. You've always wanted to have a girl."
Chef Lang chortled. "You remember?"
"Yeah, I keep important stuff locked up in this bad boy," I replied pointing at my head.
"Oh, cool. Anyways, my wife and I would like to name her after your mom, Kristen B. Lang precisely," he said.
I dropped the dish I was washing inside the sink and turned to look at Chef Lang. At that moment, I didn't know what to say; my lips trembled as I attempted to give a response.
"That's wonderful. I mean, I don't know what to say. My mom would be so honored."
"Aw, bless her soul," he said. "I hope you don't mind though?"
"Me? Why should I? It's awesome knowing you really love my mom," I replied.
The funny thing was that even if I wasn't happy with the name, I couldn't do anything about it. It's not like names could be copyrighted. Perhaps, Chef Lang was just being modest.
We continued working in the kitchen. I prepared cupcakes and sausages in the oven while Chef Lang made his specials. Occasionally, he said funny jokes just to liven up the place, and the stewards who dashed in frequently stayed back just to hear one of his crazy jokes.
"Hey, go back out there. You're allowing customers do your job - waiting," he said to a steward, and we all laughed.
He was the boss in the cafe since George hardly visited. Chef Lang did both the cooking and the managerial aspect of the cafe while I did the cooking, cleaning and administrative bit of the cafe. I was his right hand man.
After a few hours in the kitchen, I removed my apron and went to the counter to take over from the person who did the afternoon shift. George's Cafe had become a huge restaurant over the years; hence we established an electronic takeout system just like the famous KFC and McDonald’s. The sad bit was that at night the person who's meant to be at the takeout stand near the window would have clocked out, leaving lil' old me to handle both areas - the counter and the takeout.
"Uh," I sighed seeing the queue in front of me.
"James," I called the guy cleaning the tables. "Please go stand by the takeout stand and key in the orders."
James smiled and left what he was doing. With the way I saw it, he preferred the new post more than his daily cleaning job. As James strolled to the takeout cubicle, I turned to look at the dirty tables in the cafe.
"Perfect," I grumbled.
I took the orders of people in the queue and sent them to Chef Lang, who then prepared the meal and sent them back to me. Except Chef Lang, James and I, there were three other staff in the cafe. Still, we were outnumbered by the vast amount of customers entering the cafe.
After a few minutes of working behind the counter, I heard the familiar sound of a car's horn. I turned to look at the entrance of the car and smiled so bad that my cheek bone hurt. There was one person that kept me sane throughout the hardship of work, school and stepbrothers. Without her, I would have probably died out of frustration. Though, I doubt she knew that.
Ashley Patterson was the only friend I had, or at least only person I could call a friend. I'd met her in a Halloween party when I was in 7th grade and we've been best buds ever since.
She walked through the door holding a brown hand bag in one hand and her cellphone in the other. As she saw the queue waiting to be served, Ashley rushed to the door that led to the counter. She keyed in the password for the door-lock and made her way to the other end of the counter, where I was standing.
"Hey," I said.
"Hey," she replied grinning. She turned to look at the long queue. "Please, break up the line."
The people on the queue smiled as she said those few words. They broke the line into two short ones, making it easier for everyone. Ashley stood beside me, collecting their orders and serving their food. She was truly an angel sent from above; she wasn't even being paid to do what she did.
"Guess what?" I asked after taking a customer's orders.
"Your dad bought a car for you," she replied.
I laughed giving the order to the nearest steward.
"So what's it?"
"There's a new student in my class."
"Is that it?"
"Wait, I haven't even gotten to the point."
"I'm listening,” she said.
"The new student is the president's daughter."
Immediately, Ashley froze trying to serve a customer. The sachet of ketchup in her hand slipped and fell on the inside section of the counter. She turned to look at me; her eyes bulging and mouth wide open.
"Are you kidding?"
"Nope," I replied shaking my head. "As she walked into the class, everyone froze. She's absolutely gorgeous."
"Yeah, I know."
"Oh really, have you met her before?"
"Nah," she sobbed. "I just saw a picture of her and the first lady on the net. Are her eyes really blue, or are they lenses? It was hard to tell through the picture."
"They are real, just like the deep blue sea."
Ashley noticed the expression on my face and gave me a mischievous smirk.
"Is someone falling in love?"
"Nope, I don't fall in love at first sight. She's just a fascinating girl. The way she sits down, the way she eats her food as if she was in a monarchy family."
Ashley glanced at the new formed queue and turned to look at me.
"Alright, let's get back to work. We’ll talk about this later," she said.
"Yes, ma'am," I replied jokingly.
Thanks to Ashley's assistance, we were able to attend to all the customers and also have time to clean the cafe.
"What a day!" I moaned as I strode with Ashley towards the front door of the café when it was time to lock up.
I turned to look at the cafe, inspecting every nook and cranny. The lights were switched off and the floors mopped. Everywhere seemed clean and tidy, ready to receive customers the following day. Chef Lang had gone home, leaving me with the keys. Some people would think it was an honor to hold the keys of the cafe, but the truth was that it was a burden. Coming the following morning, I needed to wake up super early to open the cafe and hand the keys over to the next shift and then return home to prepare breakfast for the family. Just the thought of this could make one run away from home. Sadly, this was the last decision on my mind at that moment.
"Have you eaten?" asked Ashley as I locked the front doors of the cafe.
"Nah, I haven't. Though in my defense, I wasn't hungry considering the endless amount of customers moving into the cafe."
"That's not an excuse, Jimmy," she said. "Without food, you won't perform well both at work and school."
"Yeah, I know. I ate lunch a bit late so I'll be okay until I get home."
Ashley sighed.
"Alright," she gave up.
"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine," I assured her placing my arm over her shoulder as we walked to her car.
Ashley dropped me off on her way home and promised to help me at the cafe the following day.
Entering my house, I sneaked into the kitchen and prepared a light meal. While cooking, I glanced at the door every few minutes to check if someone was coming towards the kitchen. It would be impractical to get some rest if anyone in the house caught sight of me. The twins would want me to do their homework and their father would want me to do some unnecessary house chores.
Luckily, I finished cooking and sneaked into my room to eat dinner. After eating, I took out my various assignments from my bag and completed them. Soon it was time to sleep; I knelt down in front of my single bed and said my night prayers before jumping on it. As I closed my eyes hoping to fall asleep, I heard a sudden knock on my door.
"Jimmy, I need help with my homework," William said behind the door.
I frowned and got up from my bed to open the door. Apparently, my stepbrother believed I was a nocturnal animal. What a life!
Chapter Four
The First Page
On a Sunday evening, I lay on my bed staring at the patchy ceiling. The rest of the family had gone out for a treat, leaving me alone in the house. Frankly, I loved the fact that they didn't make me go along with them because I'd definitely be their errand boy wherever we went. Staying at home gave me time to clear my head, and most importantly, rest from my stressful life. Though the twins had given me jobs to do, I decided to procrastinate it until I was able to do them.
Still on my bed, I removed a book under my pillow and glared at it for a long minute. As I opened the pages of the book, tear drops trickled down my cheeks. This happened every time I looked at this book, perhaps because it was the only thing left that truly reminded me of my mom. It was given to me by her childhood friend on my thirteenth birthday, and since then I used it as my journal.
I moved through the written pages of the book, glancing at each page for a long second before moving to the next. As I got to the last written page, I took in a deep breath and sat upright to read the entire page. The name, Michelle Smith was written in block letters. My pulse surged as I pictured her in my head; her priceless smile, glowing skin and sea blue eyes were outstanding.
“What’s happening to me?” I said.
I had never felt such way for anyone before, especially someone I knew I could never be with. Admitting that she wasn’t in my league was an understatement; even if I was rich I couldn’t still get an audience with the president's daughter. It was a dead end.
As I placed my journal back under my pillow, I noticed a bright golden light shining through my suitcase in the room. The little curtains in front of my tiny window were closed, which made the light to light up the entire room. Therefore, I got up and walked towards my suitcase, taking one baby step at a time. Getting to the suitcase, I gently unzipped it and lifted its top. The leather book I'd taken from the basement a few weeks back was glowing in the midst of my clothes. I glared at it for a long minute with bulging eyes before stretching my hand to pick it up.
Its warmth spread through my veins as I held the book in my hand. I flipped it around to search for the source of the light, but I couldn't find a bulb or even an LED around the book.
Maybe the light's coming from within, I thought. Then I recalled the last time I'd tried to open this same book, and frowned. Out of frustration, I placed the book back in my suitcase and returned to my bed.
After a while, I climbed out from my bed and walked up to my suitcase. The light from the book was still shining and it was getting brighter by the minute. I picked it up and smiled at its constant warm texture. Then, with a gentle touch I lifted up the top cover. Strangely, this time the cover of the book rose up but still I couldn't find any source of the light. There was nothing written on the very first page of the book; it was cream and bare. As I tried to turn to the next page, the first page didn't move. It was as though it was glued to the rest pages.
Then the second I tried to close the book, the words; 'Hello Jimmy Evans' appeared on the once empty front page. It was written in black ink.
Instantly, the book fell from my grasp and I tottered backwards in shock. Seeing a ghost would have been a lot better. At that moment, my heart surged as I stood in front of the book. I couldn't understand how a book could write on itself.
After a long glare, I picked up the book, closed my eyes for a second and then opened then at the first page, hoping to see a bare top page. Sadly, the words were still written on the page - mysteriously. I must be the hallucinating, I thought as I stared at the words. Meanwhile, the light had gone dim the moment the letters appeared.
"Am I supposed to reply?" I asked myself. I looked around my bed and my little reading desk. "But I have no pen. I need a pen."
Just then, a blue ball point appeared on the first page of the book. It was as though the book had heard my request. I reached for the blue ball point and wrote 'Hi' just below the mysterious words. Still staring at the page with bulged eyes, the two written sentences disappeared and a new one popped up. 'How are you today, Jimmy?'
I laughed shaking my head. Are you kidding me? I thought. Still staring at the book, I tried to figure out the logarithm behind the appearing and disappearing words, but there was no humanly possible explanations for the strange pop ups. How did it know my name? How was it able to reply? Was I day dreaming? Even the great Albert Einstein couldn't answer these questions.
Shortly, I moved over to my bed before I could incur cramps on my legs. I placed the book on my pillow and lay down on the bed with my back facing the ceiling. Then I wrote on the same page, 'I'm fine. Thank you. How are you?' As I wrote those words, I shook my head repeatedly in disappointment. I must be losing it, I thought.
Again, both sentences vanished and a new one appeared. 'I can tell you're surprised. Don't be. I was your mother's old friend and now yours.'
'You know my mother?' I wrote back.
'Yes. My brother and I were created by a group of special beings called Lestiles. I was given to your ancestor and until the family line dies, I'm devoted to your family. I was given to your mother when she was still a little girl. Since then, we became best of friends until the very end. Bless her soul.'
'How is it that you know about my mother's death?'
'I know everything, Jimmy Jeff Evans. However, I was with her in the car when she had the accident.'
Seeing that, a tear drop dripped down from my eyes and fell on the paper. Strangely, the paper didn't get wet.
'Don't cry, Jimmy. I know how you feel. You just need to be strong; your mother would want that.'
'Okay,' I wrote, wiping out the tears from my eyes.
'Now, to cheer you up, I'd let you in on a small secret.'
'What's that?'
'That's more like it. Well, besides being your comforter and adviser, I'm able to link you up with my brother's owner. All you need to do is, introduce yourself to the person and hope he or she writes back.'
'Really? How?'
'Turn to the last page.'
'But it's glued to the rest.'
'Not really '
At that moment, goosebumps began to appear on my arm. It was hard to believe a book could have a sense of humor.
I turned the book over and opened it from the back. As directed, the back cover rose and the last page was as empty as the first. Therefore, I picked up the blue pen and wrote the word, 'Hi'. Soon, it vanished leaving the paper bare once again. I stared at the blank page with my eyebrows raised up, my teeth clenched and my eyes widened.
Just a few minutes later, the word, 'Hi' appeared on the last page. I smiled and reached for the ball point beside the book, ready to write back. For one, I knew it wasn't my handwriting and also it was in a different color of ink, red.
'This is so strange. Please, I'd like to know who you are.'
Again, both sentences disappeared and I lay still waiting for a response.
'My name's Ena and I am a senior at high school. Can I have yours, please?'
'That’s a lovely name, Ena. Mine's Jeff.'
‘Thanks Jeff. Yours isn't bad as well.'
'Hey, I'd like to know something. Is this real?'
'Well, I kept asking myself this question some days ago when I first got this book from my mom. It sure isn't a dream, I can tell you that.'
'Alright, I think I can live with that. So tell me a bit about yourself.'
'I'm the only child of my parents and we live in a lovely nation, Gestolaynia.'
'Oh, that's nice. I'm the only child of my late mom as well.'
'Aw, I'm sorry to hear that . '
As I saw the smiley face thing, I grinned. It was amazing to know someone other than Ashley cared about me, even though that someone was imaginary.
'So who do you live with? Your dad?'
'Sadly, I never knew my dad. I live with my stepdad and his sons.'
'Aw, how's that going?'
'Not so well.'
As I scowled, the smiley face with the frown appeared beside my writing as though the book had interpreted my feelings. It was incredible.
'I stay with my mom and dad, and they love me so much but the truth is, I was always feel lonely, until my mom gave me this amazing journal. It listens to me and gives me excellent advises on everything.'
'That's awesome. I just opened mine today, so I hope it keeps me company as well, because in my mother's house, I'm treated like a slave. My stepbrothers are always mean to me, yet I do all their chores and homework. It's frustrating.'
'No worries. Things will get better if you persevere and endure, like my book advised me.'
I laughed aloud, knowing the irony in her statement,
'I hope so too.'
The second I dropped the pen on the pillow, prepared to wait for her response, I heard the sound of my stepfather's car through my window. So I got up and went to check if he was actually back with the boys. Getting there, I saw him and William trying their best to pull Richard's hoodie that was stuck to the car. I laughed as I watched William and his father fight over which portion of the cloth they should each hold on to. As they say, the apple didn't fall far away from the tree.
After a long struggle, William and George asked Richard to take off his hoodie because they were tired and frustrated with their futile attempts to pull out the hoodie from the car. The minute I saw them striding towards the front door, I rushed back to my mysterious journal and wrote back to Ena.
'I'd have to go now. My stepbrothers and their father are home, and I don't want them to catch me lying on my bed.'
'Okay. I understand. Just let me know whenever you're free and we could chat again.'
'Alright, thanks.'
'You're welcome. xxx'
I smiled at the book and placed it back inside my suitcase, hoping I'd have the time to get back to it.
Just then, the thought of my chaotic family coming back home gave me a head ache. However, I couldn't run away from them, at least not whilst I was in high school.
'Welcome home, sir," I greeted George as I met him moving towards the staircases.
"I hope the lounge is tidy," he said.
"Yes, sir," I said nodding.
"What about the kitchen? The boys made a mess in there, so I hope it's clean as we speak?"
"Hmm..."
"What? I don't want to see the kitchen messy when I come downstairs in the next five minutes," he yelled.
"Yes, sir," I said in a low voice.
I rushed into the kitchen some seconds after George's nag. Even though he looked tired from the outing, I could sense that he meant every single word of his threat.
As expected, the twins left the kitchen in a huge mess. They decorated the entire room with ketchup and mustard. Their dishes were scattered all over the place; on the refrigerator, midway inside the microwave, on the floor. Everywhere. I could hardly walk on a clean spot on the floor. The worst aspect of the room was the rotten smell moving round the room. I tried holding my breath as I reached for a bin bag, but the smell was too strong to resists. I ended up inhaling the rotten smile and fumes from the cooker. It was dreadful.
After a thorough clean up, I removed the yellow garden gloves from my hands and proceeded to the ironing room to iron George's clothes and his sons' as well. Though, the twins hardly wore their dirty clothes again; even when washed and ironed. It was only when their dad put his foot down that the two boys would frown and walk up to me. "Jimmy, where are my clothes?" they would ask me individually.
It took me an entire hour to iron the clean clothes piled up in the ironing room and when I was done, all I needed was a little rest, but as usually my siblings didn't seem to think so.
"Hey, come in here," Richard said as I strolled past his room.
I entered the room and met him looking at his schoolbag on the bed, while his twin was lying on his bed.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"What's the matter? You’re asking what the matter is." He placed his hand inside his schoolbag and took out a notepad. "I'll tell you what the problem is. You didn't do my assignment and tomorrow's hand in day."
"Oh, about that, I'm so sorry. I must have forgotten."
"He's done mine," interrupted William.
"What?" Richard turned back to see his brother waving his completed assignment. "Argh." He clenched his teeth. "How come you did his and left mine?"
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(Pages 1-39 show above.)