14 - Ja´Hira/Plan B/

Who´s responsible for making me this way? That´s what I´ve wanted to know for a bit.

Maybe it really is some unseen force. Maybe God. Maybe something in my bones that I´ve never formally been introduced to. I don´t know what or who makes me this way. Maybe someone had decided to take a blizzard like me, dump all of her IQ out into the Atlantic Ocean, and introduce me to fire. Maybe it was supposed to be like this. Maybe I´m supposed to be this way. Or, maybe someone wanted to just see what it would look like. A coat of reckless abandon. On some random teenage girl.

But hey, I think I´m pretty fucking awesome.

But I´m not crazy. I have a firm lip. But I only mean half of what I say. I don´t bring what happens in my mind to the real world, the majority of the time. I´m a simple creature. My words are just complicated. My heart is pounding. But my walk is slow.

I rap my knuckles against his window.

¨Dak, you still alive?¨ I call out.

It´s 7 pm. As it’s winter now, it’s already dark. There´re no clouds in the sky. Nothing but the pale moon, and some faint stars in the distance. I personally don´t like stars. Well, I don't have anything against them. I mean who would I be?

I just don´t like the idea of them. How stars are just another thing that humanity reaches for. With greed and cowardice in our pockets. Our planet is falling apart. And we want what´s so, so far away. Stars. Instead of spending our time saving this planet.

Ha. Fuck you, planet Earth.

So anyways. It’s a frigid, windy, cloudless night. And I´m sneaking Dakarai out his window. His window latch shudders open quickly. It´s obvious that the whipping winds made it difficult. But he manages and leans against his now-open window frame. His arms crossed, glasses glued to his face. Lips perched.

¨You´ve got to be kidding me…you´re not actually here…at 7 in the afternoon.¨

I stuff my hands in my pockets. ¨Yeah, I get that a lot. I´m so good to true that it´s crazy to believe that I´m actually here.¨

He blinks. ¨Ja´Hira.¨

I blink right back at him. ¨Dakarai.¨

He sighs, rubbing his temples. ¨You do know that there is a front door, right?¨

¨Well, this is cooler. Like Romeo leaning into Juliet´s window. A classic romantic way to persuade someone.¨

His adam´s apple bobbles nervously. ¨To persuade someone?¨

I squint slightly. ¨I want you to come and check something out.¨

He gives me an apologetic look. ¨It´s late, why now?¨

I place both of my hands on his elbows. ¨Well, you did say you wanted to do more than research, right?¨

¨What?¨

¨How we´ve been researching this case for so long. And this time, you need physical information. To get your hands dirty.¨

He tries to hide it. But I see the small hint of excitement mixed with endearment in his eyes. I know he wants to do this. By the looks of it. He´s holed up in his room. He needs this.

¨How do you insist we get our hands dirty?¨

I let go of him to spin around to my bike. The bike I´ve been riding since 3rd grade now. Old and rusty. But this old girl still has it in her. I ride her to school every day. Quickly, I pick up my helmet and hold it out for Dakarai. ¨It´s only 20 minutes away.¨

-

If you told my younger self that I´d be peddling on my rusty old bicycle with a boy clinging to my back, on a darkened night, trying to pinpoint the answer in a string of deaths. I’d absolutely believe you. In fact, younger me would think that it´s awesome that this is how I´m spending my teenage years. My younger self was crazy.

I´m indomitable.

Unstoppable.

Horribly stubborn.

Pops says it makes me a bit quirky. But, I cannot mentally handle something knowing I could’ve done something about it and chose to leave it alone. I don´t leave things alone. That´s how Dak and I differ. He´s a stone-headed workaholic who makes sure he can well familiarize himself with the facts before jumping into anything. In contrast, I gather my tools and go. I do my thinking on the way there.

Maybe that isn´t the best way to do it. What am I supposed to do with that? It´s both prevailed and failed me in the past. (My way of thinking.) Just because it hasn´t led me to victory every time doesn't make it rubbish. Just like most things. It’s just how I do it.

I didn't think about what we’d do or what I was hoping to accomplish in depth. In the heat of it all. Every time my muscles burn, or my hands grip the handles too fearlessly when my jaw is too clenched, too tight. I urge myself to go further. I flood my mind with thoughts. Distracting myself from the collapsing fossil my body feels like when riding this bike.

Once every other second, I make sure to check on Dakarai. Who is no stranger to my bike? We´d ride it together all the time. But of course, he always acted like we were going to die. Whenever he heard a motor or any loud chugging from a car, he´d tap my shoulder and tell me to be careful. Which isn't horrible. But after that´s what he´s been doing for years, it gets annoying. Considering we’re riding on the side of a busy road. Which has many, many cars. Noisy cars.

Dakarai looks a lot different front the last time I’d seen him. Well, he still looks the same. With the same skinny build, pitch-dark skin, the same checkered vest he´s always wearing, liquidy brown eyes, and still towering over me. That´s still here. But there´s something new. His lips are chapped, the bags under his eyes look like ink, and he seems, awake. Like he´s been walking barefoot on a pile of sizzling coal since the last time we talked, and he hasn't given himself the chance to hop off.

It´s all because of this whole teacher-dying business. He´s the most dedicated guy I´ve ever met. When he´s gonna get something done, he´ll get it done. But, he’s used to knowing it all. To have the answers because he studied. Because he stayed up all night. Because he was taught to know.

That in his head, it´s an understood thing that it´s who he is. He isn´t used to the times that even though he studied, even though he plowed, read, researched, and scoured. He still hasn't moved past Plan A. I´m done with that.

I´m done with whatever funk he´s been in. This is going nowhere. Dak has been going nowhere. I´m Ja´Hira Chaibi and I go places. I´m going to being us to Plan B.

Plan B.

Sour, bitter, bright. I like how that tastes.