The Black Book Page 5

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  Sleepy Lake High, a sleek suburban-styled school for Sleepy Lake kids, opened in 1994. Housed in a very big building situated in a large land expanse between two undulating hills very close to the stream, this was where Sleepy Lake boys learned street language and Sleepy Lake girls grew up. This was also Nora’s school and kingdom. She reigned supreme here and loved every bit of it.

  “Nora, hope you’re coming to cheerleading class today?”

  “Yeah, sure. Time?”

  “Five in the evening? Sarah’s coming with her CD player.” Linda was Nora’s best friend and servant. She worshipped this particular Quentin, literally.

  “That’s great. Which album is she coming with?”

  “Luther? The blues guy?”

  “Great, but I don’t think I like Vandross for gym class, Lin. How could she get Vandross for gym class? Does he have anything we could dance to?”

  “Ever heard of ‘The Power of Love’?”

  “Baby,” Nora began, smiling. “That’s an ancient classic, but I love that song. Forgot it’s from Vandross.”

  “Nora Quentin,” Miss Ashley, their Biology teacher, snapped. “Focus?”

  Biology class ran from ten to eleven every Tuesday morning. Not many students liked the subject, especially its practical aspect, but surprisingly, Linda was an exception, and she prided herself in being the best in Miss Ashley’s class. Nora wasn’t so lucky.

  “What’s a food pyramid, Lin?”

  “You mean like you don’t know?”

  “So what? I haven’t read it up yet.”

  “Well it’s a kind of food arrangement in nature where organisms lower down in the pyramid support those on top.”

  “Like, you mean, are fed on?”

  “Yeah, sure. Yuk, I’m cutting this open.”

  The thing in question was a green frog and Nora closed her eyes as the other girl started working on the amphibian. They were in the biology lab with twenty other students who were in the same situation with various lizards and frogs. Miss Ashley supervised them.

  “Carefully flip back the animal’s skin when you’re through with cutting,” she directed, “and pin this on your board with the office pins.”

  “Oh, so inhuman,” Nora whined.

  “Label the intestines, heart, stomach and what else you see in there with the tabs on your table,” Miss Ashley continued as she neared their table, “and quit cringing back with disgust and apprehension, Miss Quentin. You’ll have to learn how to stomach that if you really want to be a surgeon.”

  “I think she meant you, Linda,” Nora whispered to her friend. “That’s a profession I’ll always totally despise.”

  “Nora! Focus?” Miss Ashley repeated. She had only taken a few steps away from their table.

  “Sorry, Miss Ash.”

  Eleven o’clock and Biology was over. Both girls joked on their way to History class. Linda prided herself in being close to Nora during such breaks, because all eyes were on them as they walked down the passage. Even the seniors envied them. What, with Nora’s Z4 packed outside, she alone could afford to give them pocket money from her personal piggy bank for months! Fancy a rich kid for a friend.

  “Hey, Nora. Wait, Nora.”

  “What now?” Linda giggled as the fat boy jogged up to meet them, breathing heavily.

  Nora sighed. Here came one of her greatest admirers. “What now, Peter?” she asked when the Jewish boy stopped before them. “I’ve got a class in thirty minutes.”

  “So do I,” the Jew began. “Hey, my mom’s preparing a Passover feast tonight and I’m inviting you?”

  “Oh, that’s lovely,” Linda said. “What ‘bout me?”

  “Oh, you can come if you want to. Sorry.”

  “Not interested,” Nora refused. “I’m not a Jew, Peter.”

  “Sorry, Peter,” Linda reversed. “She’s the boss.”

  “But Nora, you’ll love it,” Peter persuaded. “It’s meant to mark . . .”

  “The exodus of the Hebrews from Egypt and their safe flight across the Red Sea?” both girls helped together. “We know, Peter.”

  “But . . . But my mom would love to see you,” the boy continued sullenly.

  “Cut it out, Peter,” Nora snapped, turning on him and drawing much attention.

  “Here goes . . . ,” a jittery Linda said.

  “For the umpteenth time?” Nora continued, “I’m not interested in you and will never be your girlfriend? Ever.”

  “Ooooooooh,” Mark, a party freak walking past the trio with his friends, intruded. “Now that hurts.”

  Peter was downcast. “But Nora, I . . . I love you,” he tried.

  “In your dreams, Peter,” Nora said, shaking her head. She went in for History class.

  “Yeah, in your dreams, Peter,” Linda repeated, and followed her friend.

  Mark came up to Peter. “What on earth were you thinking, man?” he asked the fat boy. “That snob for a girlfriend?”

  “She’s not a snob,” Peter cried, turning away into the classroom.

  “Well,” Mark wondered. “Everyone knows she’s a snob, even if she’s a rich one.”

  He entered the classroom, where everyone was settling down.

  “Alright, class,” Mr. Heaver, their fat History teacher, announced. “Our topic today is the Great Wall of China.” And he turned to scribble it on the board.

  “Boring,” Nora whispered, yawning.

  “Heard that, Nora,” the teacher said, turning to face them again. He cleared his throat. “But first of all,” he continued, “I would like to introduce you all to a new . . . kid on the block.”

  The class laughed cheerfully at this joke as all eyes turned to see the newcomer.

  “His name is . . . eh—Ike . . . chukwu, but you can all call him I.K.,” Mr. Heaver said, staring down at a piece of paper on which he’d scribbled the name. Ignorantly, he’d pronounced the name wrongly. “Now, his parents are immigrants from West Africa, but he has lived all his life in the UK and is anxious to meet you all.”

  “As in desperate?” Linda quietly helped.

  “No, Linda. As in . . . curious.”

  “Hi, everyone,” the boy said, feeling embarrassed.

  “Hi, I.K.,” the class chorused.

  “I knew it,” Nora whispered, being careful not to draw Mr. Heaver’s attention again.

  “Knew what?” Linda asked behind her and she turned around.

  “Black gloves should do for a black dinner dress, right? Or should I have gone for red ones instead?”

  “All for the handsome Leonard,” Linda giggled dreamily. “I think both choices are parfait.”

  “See who’s learning French,” her friend exclaimed.

  “And see who’s going to detention if you two continue talking while I’m talking,” their History teacher snapped, sternly turning on both girls.

  Nora yawned again.