Page 43 - The Muse 2021

streets stay in the small houses in the back. They would come and go as they pleased, they would eat dinner with us, and watch T.V. with us too. I wouldn’t be very surprised if one of them came through the front door during the dead of night.
Today my grandmother was in the middle of the living room, having her legs waxed. It was a strange sight and I always tried my best to avoid it.
“Where are you going, boy?” she asked.
“To Mr. Blackburn’s, I need to talk to him.” I said.
“Well, make it quick, your mother called, and she wants you home for dinner.”
My Grandpa Randall and I exchanged looks, which we exchanged every time we saw each other. It always gave
me chills. Mr. Blackburn used to own a chandelier shop, until he had to close it. He was living in a small apartment which was crawling with bugs, until my grandmother offered him a place to stay. Now he lives in a house in her backyard, which is filled with chandeliers. He couldn’t bring himself to throw them out. He still sells chandeliers, but from his home. I liked to talk to him about my problems because he usually didn’t tell me that I was wrong. As soon as I walked in, my eyes were blinded by the explosion of light coming from the chandeliers. It was almost like walking into the sun.
“Mr. Blackburn? I have a problem.” I said, half blinded by the light.
“Yes, Geoffrey? Sit down, tell me about it, but make it quick because I have a customer that is coming in a few minutes.” he said.
“I went to play soccer today and my team lost-”
“Oh boy.”
“I was put in defense, and I hate defense! When we lost, everyone blamed me, and Rodrigo was laughing at me,
and they said they didn’t need me, so I-” “Exploded?”
“Yes, and I just got so mad that I started a fight and now I can never go back to the field and play soccer because everyone hates me!”
“I think the first step would be to apologize, then maybe they’ll let you play again. Just make sure not to lose your temper.”
“But they-”
“Sorry, I can’t talk anymore Geoffrey, my customer is here. Come back tomorrow.”
The next day, I got myself into trouble again. This time in school. It was the last class before lunch, and everyone
was hungry and in a bad mood. The teacher seemed to talk forever and soon, the words coming out of her mouth lost their meaning and it just felt as if sound was rolling out of it. My stomach rumbled. I was so hungry and bored. Suddenly, my mind flew back to the conversation I had with Mr. Blackburn. He had told me to apologize and not to lose my temper.
“Why should I apologize?” I thought to myself, “They are the mean loser bullies, they don’t even deserve a good player like me on their team.”
But was it really necessary to hit them? That thought kept rolling back into my head no matter how many times I reassured myself that I did the right thing. The bells rang. Children poured out of the halls, and I got caught in a stream of kids that carried me right to lunch. As I sat down to eat my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which I probably wouldn’t even eat, a kid sat next to me. I had seen him only in the halls, he wasn’t very nice.
“Is that a muffin?”
He had pointed to my perfect store-bought chocolate chip muffin that my father had brought back from the hospital where he worked. I rarely ever got chocolate chip muffins, and I had to protect it at all costs.
“Yes, it is and you can’t have it!” I said. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah!”
“Well, too bad!”
He took my perfect muffin and shoved it in his mouth. He ate it in one bite. This was too much for me. My perfect chocolate chip muffin had been gobbled down by a despicable bully. My volcano came back, it was boiling, about to explode.
“Oh and, your shoes are dumb.” he said.
The words of Mr. Blackburn and my consciousness seemed to disappear. I attacked the kid. Hitting and punching and screaming the same mean names that I screamed in the soccer field. I still clearly remember the kid crying.
“I’m sorry! I’ll give you a muffin tomorrow, just please stop hitting me! “he screamed.
A group of kids surrounded us, screaming “fight!” but I did not care. I had to avenge my sweet perfect chocolate chip muffin. Before I knew it, I was sitting in the principal’s office. The principal called my mother, but instead someone else picked up. After a few minutes of conversation, the principle hung up and turned to me.
“Your mother is not home, so your father will be picking you up.” he said. 43