Friday 16 March, 2012:
Carparks – story of my life. I haven’t heard from Kepaoa yet, so I go get coffee and I just wait in the car, at the mall.
I think, if it would help, I’d go round there now and try to persuade him to go to court. Because well, he kind of wanted to go; he had half a mind to.
And he still might… but it’s nothing to do with me at all. If that’s how it goes, I’m ok with it.
We discuss it a little yesterday – Kepaoa texts me while I’m in the Faculty meeting. First he tells me he’s down the line, then he confesses he isn’t
‘Funny guy ay… ‘ I write, sarcastically.
‘Hahaha nah juct a fag id say…’ he replies, exasperated with himself too.
And he says he’s going to court: ‘hard ms, alday…’ and then next minute it’s: idc. fck dat sheit fk da phunk pouleec!
So – where we at? I haven’t got a clue.
By 10:30, I think – well I’m just gonna drink my coffee and go home. And right then, I start getting texts:
Suhp ms uhm nau court da copc kame ova nd jucct zd il be algudz juct gta warning hah. Wats da hapc whd cluzo ms?
Aye? You just got a warning? That don’t sound right to me.
Nah hnest ms, kuz it a sumfng firearm… nt a real wun
And so on and so forth. To tell you the truth, I still don’t know what’s really happened. If I had to guess, I’d say… he knew yesterday that he didn’t have to go court – just wanted to do the ‘FTW’ thing a bit more. That’s Kepaoa: sometimes he can milk it a bit. Not that the whole thing isn’t serious. But either way, it looks like it’s sorted, for now.
Sunday 18 March:
La-Verne and I go for a walk and talk. I tell her everything: her perspective is completely different from mine – it’s not a bad thing – it’s good to get a different opinion. And I trust her, which is very important. But she’s still got a degree of ‘faith’ or something in the justice (and education) system: way more than I’ll ever have. What I mean is that she really believes that somewhere, there’s a rationale to it – and I don’t believe that. I believe we have to outwit it… if we can’t outrun it.
Monday 19 March:
12 History: I let Zion sit out in the block today, with a netbook and his assessment booklet. He just likes working on his own, and he gets most of it no problem – I go check if he needs help from time to time.
The ‘Independent Learners’ (one group so far) are up in the library; rest of the class get the netbooks in the classroom. A boy called Jesse kind of runs those silly big ol’ girls, so I leave him in charge – and I go talk to Zion.
We talk about Tau, and court. Little Zion tells me not to worry; that his brother’s been to court heaps of times and never been inside. And even Chase (with those ounces) just got home D – and according to Zion, he’s not even on it any more. But it all hinges on Tau’s phone, and the grand – the tinnies are neither here nor there, Zion reckons. As well as the links with Scott, and the snitch (whoever that was). And all this is really just speculation.
Meanwhile, Zion’s checking how many sources of information he needs, and filling out the first part of his assessment booklet (5 credits: in the bag). He’s such a star, and I’m amazed he just keeps coming to school – without Leroi. Who’s left; half-pushed (by Marjorie), and half of his own free will, I think.
Tuesday 20 March:
Tau’s got court today and I’m not sure what’s happening. And I think: well hey, what did I expect? It’s not like I’m part of Tau’s family. Love him like I raised him alright. But still, I can’t help feeling a certain… I don’t know; it’s like I’ve run out of ‘understanding’ of things. I haven’t run out of care, patience, or love. But I just don’t understand things sometimes, and it makes me feel sad and quiet.
Last night: one minute we’re sitting round the table eating pizza, and just quietly talking about everything. And the next minute, Tau and Shay have slipped off – and they don’t come back. There’s shame in my heart that they just left without saying a word. Shame, to get it all wrong. To think that I… was part of it, when I wasn’t.
And you know what? I don’t understand why things have to be so cryptic and so silent. Oh, I also know it’s not my day and not my call. Everyone’s got a dozen things to take care of, and to worry about. All the same, I’m tired of caring about other people’s feelings, and no-one caring about mine. Maybe not even thinking I have feelings one way or another. Like I’ll just take care of things when I’m asked to, but in between times I can just sit on the shelf like a doll with no emotion or pain.
It’s ridiculous, or kind of, to be this way. To be this person with no… soul of my own. Did I sell it? Or maybe somewhere – I don’t know where or when – I just let go of it. Or perhaps I took it right out of my body, and buried it like treasure that I might find one day, when things were different. In the middle of a deep forest… or on an island, across a still, dark lake… I don’t know. And I want it back – how shall I get it?