As it turns out, Imani Jordan isn't rich. She and her family are wealthy. I searched up her name and dozens of articles on her popped up. Most are about her various acts of philanthropy across continental Africa where she's from. It explains part of her accent, there's a biopic about her parents' polyamorous relationship. Being raised by five people from all corners of the world is why she says certain words in certain ways.
I'd look into her more but I feel creepy enough, so instead, I get ready for school; picking my long hair out and pulling it into an afro-tail. It's an unexpectedly hot day out. Seems summer isn't done with us yet.
When I get to school, relishing in the air conditioning, I notice the halls are sparse. I worry for a second that I'm late, or worse early when I see some people running to the other side of the building. I follow them and hear something loud going on outside. Everybody is pressed against the windows to look at whatever is causing the commotion. It takes me a little while to get to a window that's facing the scene and isn't occupied. Outside on the street amidst a pileup of cars is Lamar fighting what can only be described as a giant chicken.
Ok, maybe giant isn't the right word. I mean, it's bigger than a chicken should be, about nine or ten feet tall. It's hard to tell with it moving around like a …a chicken with its head cut off. You know what, it's a giant chicken and Lamar is fighting it. But fighting is an exaggeration too, really he's waiting for emergency services to get people out of their cars to safety. For now, he's keeping it at bay by zapping at its feet. The chicken flaps its wings in fear as feathers fly comically. I like to think that I'd be more surprised at the idea of a colossal chicken running rampant if it weren't for the fact that this is the third giant animal to be released in these last few months. The first being a rat, which didn't help with the jokes about Excelsior City. The second was an ant over in Amboy State. Whatever or whoever is the cause of this has a weird sense of humor.
Lamar backflips, and I mean really backflips, out of the way when the chicken tries to peck at him. Its beak cracks the asphalt. I open the window and lean out to see and hear better.
"Careful! You could hurt someone," Lamar points and yells at the chicken. Why is he talking to it? The chicken bawks loudly as a response. It flaps its wings and jumps, trying to scratch him with its talons. He gets out the way and instead a streetlight takes the blow. The metal pole groans and tilts over, crashing into a building.
"Civilians are clear!" One of the police informs.
Lamar arcs electricity up his arms, releasing a bolt of lightning. It strikes the chicken in what I guess is its chest. The chicken shakes for a moment but continues its attack, pecking at Lamar. The beak is about the size of his head, it keeps trying to hit him. Lamar barely keeps ahead of the assault. He holds the beak open when it tries to bite him.
Lamar turns into electricity and reforms above it. He grabs it by the feathers, working to get his arm around its neck, and (there really is no other way to say this) starts choking the chicken.
"GO TO SLEEP!" He commands. The bird refuses, starting to thrash about. It manages to throw him off; Lamar lands on his back on top of a car windshield, his weight breaking it.
I can hear him groan from here, getting up from the hood.
"OK, NOW I'M MAD!" He unleashes another bolt that the chicken dodges. Lamar holds his arm out, watching the electricity soar further away. The chicken gets closer and closer. Then Lamar pulls his arm back, with it the same bolt of lightning comes back and strikes the chicken in the head.
Yet another ability he has. I'm starting to wonder exactly can't he do with electricity.
The chicken is stunned for a moment, which is all he needs. Lamar shoots a stream of lightning into the poultry. When he pulls his arms back the chicken falls over.
For a second I think it's dead but then it heaves a breath. Unconscious.
A second later Tanisha Thompson lands next to him. They start talking about something, I can't hear them from up here but she walks away to help emergency services. Lamar zips up a power line and in an instant appears next to me.
"Are you ok?" I ask, remembering him landing on a car only a little while ago. He rolls his shoulders.
"Yeah, I mean, who doesn't like fried chicken?" He laughs at his own joke. That doesn't answer my question.
"Hmm, that joke was most fowl," the unmistakable voice of Imani Jordan says. She approaches us in the hallway, looking perfect as always. Dressed in cuffed khakis, flats, and a lilac linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Her dark brown dreadlocks are woven into an intricate pattern as they fall in a ponytail. I'm gay and she makes a heart throb. The people accompanying her, less so. A man and woman flank her in black suits and opaque sunglasses. Bodyguards. What's she expecting to happen?
Lamar laughs at the joke, finding it so funny as to hold his sides.
"That was a good one, Ms. Jordan," Lamar says.
"'Ms. Jordan'. No need to be so formal, we're the same age, Lamar."
"Sorry, I just feel that since you fly in helicopters I should be formal. That, and you do have bodyguards." He points at the two suits. They scan him up and down. Clearly, they don't know who he is, otherwise, they wouldn't think they could take him.
"Oh, just my parents being overprotective. Your helicopter fails one time and suddenly you have to have armed guards with you."
"Sure, who hasn't had that happen to them before?" I say without realizing I'm speaking aloud. Imani giggles and turns to me.
"How rude of me, I didn't catch your name. You were there at Sundial Square, and at the protest. I'm Imani Jordan." She offers her hand to shake. I keep the fact that I know her name and family history to myself.
"I'm Jason Duval."
"He's my friend," Lamar says. Imani flashes a stunning smile.
"Well, the more friends the better."
"What're you doing here?" I ask. "It's a little late in the semester to transfer."
"I'm actually done with school," Imani informs me. "When you can afford private tutors and go to different schools around the world, you skip a few grades so," she shrugs "I'm done with it. Might as well get some use out of being wealthy."
"So what are you doing here?" Lamar asks.
"I'm starting a new philanthropy organization to provide schools with better equipment and books. I'm going to spend some time at different schools seeing what they need, make a list and then get the stuff on it. I was actually heading to this school when I saw you fighting that large chicken."
"It was poultry in motion," I say. Both Lamar and Imani laugh out loud because of course, they have the same taste in jokes. Her bodyguards are still as statues.
"Well, I have to talk to your principal, but would you two like to do something after school? I haven't been in Excelsior City long and was hoping to see some more exciting parts of it before I get overloaded with my work. Would you like to be my guides?"
"If it's alright with your guards here," Lamar remarks. Imani turns to the man.
"Would that be okay?" The bodyguard says something into his earpiece and waits a few moments before giving a single nod. "See? Right as rain! We'll meet after school and you can show me this city!" With that Imani leaves, taking her bodyguards with her. Lamar and I exchange a look.
"You don't really think she wants us to show her around, do you?" I ask. Lamar shakes his head.
"No, I'm sure she's just being nice. Like when people say 'we should do brunch sometime.' I'm sure she'll forget about us."
After the giant chicken is hauled off, school starts and the day passes in a relatively normal way. What isn't normal is the limo waiting outside when we exit the building. Before either one of us can take a stab at whose it is Imani appears out of a rolled down window.
"Come along boys! The city awaits!" Lamar and I look at each other before we enter the fanciest vehicle I've ever been in. Leather seats, blue under lights and an assortment of drinks that upon a closer look are just fancy bottles of soda. The bodyguards sit within close proximity to Imani. "Matthew is our driver today, just tell him where we should go and he'll whisk us away," Imani explains. She lowers the partition "Matthew! We'll be taking directions from these gentlemen today, ok?"
"You got it, Ms. Jordan."
"Where to first?" Lamar shrugs at me.
"How about the Sovereign Building?" I suggest.
"You heard the man. To the Sovereign Building!"
"Right away," Matthew says. I've been to the Sovereign Building once but didn't actually go to the top since it costs a ludicrous amount to ride the elevators. When we get there Imani thinks nothing of the price and we ride up over a hundred floors to the top. Even at this time of day, at this time of year, there are plenty of tourists here. Imani stops us before we get out of the elevator. She hands the elevator operator two hundred dollar bills.
"We want to see the real top floor," she simply says. The operator puts the bills in his pocket and obliges. We go up another floor and walk onto a skinny balcony, private without anyone else around, and no plexiglass divider between us and the city. Imani gleefully goes to the edge to look out over the city. From this high up the entire city can be seen. It's not as dramatic as being carried by a flying superhero or being in a failing helicopter but it is safer. It's nice to take in the view of the city without fearing for your life. The three (five) of us walk around the building, seeing all Excelsior has to offer our eyes.
Imani leans over the railing and without turning to face us says,
"So what's next?"
For the next week or so Imani meets us after school and we all go to different places around our city. Places that real Excelsiorites never go to unless they're showing someone around, the Statute of Hope, Kioshk Island, the Basquiat Museum: real tourist traps. Not that it matters to Imani who is genuinely thrilled everywhere we go. With her paying for practically everything along with taking us everywhere, I know I should enjoy myself more.
And I would if I didn't feel like a third wheel the whole time. In exploring our city Imani has found that she and Lamar have many things in common. A terrible sense of humor for one thing, along with a similar taste in music and food...though Imani does agree with me that Tuttarella has superior pizza so I know she has good taste. They even like the same old TV shows. It doesn't hurt that they both always look like they belong on the cover of a fashion magazine or something. Lamar and Imani have the makings of the power couple of the century: her financially and him physically. I'm just the awkward, ordinary friend of these two titans.
Today, Imani suggests we do something fun now that her parents trust her to go around without her bodyguards. Which is good because the feeling that they might suddenly put me in a headlock has been weighing on me this past week. And as usual, neither of them could make a decision so I choose karaoke.
It's amazing what you learn about a person when you're in a room with them for an hour or so with a microphone. Lamar sings well enough but he acts as if he's glued to the spot. There's no showmanship in his performance, but his strong voice rolls smoothly for the R&B songs he picked. Imani is almost the exact opposite, her accent has her dragging out certain words and being out of time with the song; but she delivers with great passion. She sings like she's the headliner at a concert with thousands of adoring fans.
As for me I hope I'm the best of both. Once my first song is over they both stand and applaud.
"Damn, dude!" Lamar says. "I've never heard anyone sing 'One to Adore' like that!"
"You're an excellent singer, Jason," Imani adds. I bow for them.
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