Maggie Grey #2
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Namir replied as he walked towards the bed.
He palmed my forehead to pick my face up for a quick kiss.
“I’m saying do not draw unnecessary attention to yourself when there are people waiting to see the downfall of you and your family…
Play it smart, move accordingly, and remember there are people behind you that will move the fucking earth on your behalf. ”
He plucked my forehead with a pop of his finger before walking out. Ayira was just coming out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in her mouth. Startled, she almost bumped right into him in the narrow hallway until Namir held his hand up like she was one of his younger students.
“What’s up roommate?” He greeted. She smiled, having learned to high five from him, they tapped hands before he made his way down the steps.
Ayira peeked into my room with her long single braid swinging down her back.
She wore the plaid maroon pajama set when she plopped down on the edge of my bed.
I smiled, holding it for as long as I could while she tilted her head to the side.
“What is wrong?”
I blinked a few times, looking away as my eyes began to burn. Forcing the emotional breakdown to push back for another moment at another time, I smiled.
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Standing up, I clapped my hands together to snap out of my mood. “We have our first class together!”
The unexpected rain this morning caused Ayira and I to hurry and rush through the pathways of Legacy Park.
I had my book bag over my head and had a hold of her hand in the other as we ran.
The assortment of black, maroon, gray and white umbrellas began popping up all over the Grounds as the weather became gray and gloomy.
Ayira and I both wore matching uniforms with the long beige pleated skirts, black pumps with white blouses tucked in and a maroon tie.
Her hair was still braided down against her back side dropping well past her hips.
The satin blue scarf was intertwined within the braid while mine shriveled up into a petite and uneven afro that probably couldn’t handle a comb going through it.
“Shit, shit shit!” I let out as Ayira screamed.
“I cannot believe it is raining!” She shrieked while looking up at the sky, letting the drops fall against her face.
She looked like something out of a commercial for cosmetics where the makeup remains, and her face stays perfect.
Her smile and white teeth, looking up at the leaking sky, she was annoyingly beautiful.
“Yeah, yeah, and I’m not trying to be sick and late! Come on!”
When she almost slipped on the wet pavement, we both paused to look at each other before bursting into drunken laughter.
“This is serious Ayira!”
“I do not need classes! I am already educated!” She argued back before shoving her body out proudly into the open with her hands on her hips.
“I, Ayira Khamar of the First Kingdom, will go to the dining hall and eat a southern biscuit!” She declared like subjects were around her.
I looked around with my book bag struggling to hold the rain back.
You give this lady one chicken biscuit and it’s all she talks about.
“Who the hell are you talking to, crazy?!” I laughed. She pushed her long braid back with a raise of her chin in the air.
“I will see you after class roommate–––”
“No you don’t! Come on!” I insisted, grabbing her arm to pull her back.
We barely made it to the communications building without collapsing in front of the door in laughter.
The building split into two spiral staircases.
Each having classes wrapped around the ironically square building.
The offices and bathrooms were on the main level where we were along with the map and when I saw the class we were looking for, I immediately dragged her arm and began going up.
“We’re already late!” I let out as our heels echoed against the wooden steps.
We only slowed when we came across a few elders and professors that glared at us on their way down.
I gave a small nod of acknowledgement and a muttered ‘morning’ before we broke out into a heated sprint.
The once gloomy skies along the winding windows that wrapped around the building showed the sunlight breaking through the clouds.
The bright rays of the sun seemed to follow us with each step until we made it to the top level and the last door on the right at the end of the hallway.
“Introduction to Ontology,” Ayira read as I gathered myself together.
Our uniforms were soaked but with the door being closed, that meant the lecture had already started.
It was almost the universal sign that you will be known as late if you walk in after the door is closed.
Yet Ayira who did not understand the etiquette of school just barged right into the class while I quickly followed behind, mimicking her confidence.
Professor Yancey, an older light skinned man with freckles covering his large swollen red nose and heavy cheekbones.
His silver fro was thinning around the front and he wore an old gray suit and glasses.
The class was full of desks that wrapped around like an auditorium but thankfully, there were a few towards the front where Ayira and I could sit next to each other.
“You two are…” He asked, voice deep and brittle bone dry. He almost sounds like Squidward from SpongeBob, just dull and uninterested.
“Maggie Grey,” I said as I took my place. Ayira didn’t say anything as she tried to unpack her belongings. It wasn’t until I cleared my throat that she looked around, realizing all eyes were on her.
“Your name,” I muttered.
“Danielle Jackson,” she said before nodding, “we are late.”
I closed my eyes as I heard a few students’ snicker. The man waved his hand in the air as the door suddenly slammed shut and the lights went out. A small beam of light projected onto the board as we waited for the film to load.
“Ontology as it relates to the mythical,” Professor let out, clearly not amused. I watched Ayira carefully pull out a perfectly reserved biscuit she snatched from the Dining Hall. Instead of questioning whether we could eat it in class or not, I held my hand out as she quietly broke off a piece.
“A condition where an entity exists but does not belong to anyone or anybody or anything.”
The film flickered before showing a faint gray screen of nothing.
Just what looked like an empty room before a man with a lab coat dragged a chair towards the center.
I could feel the eyes of Professor Yancy on us snacking as I nudged her and nodded towards the teacher.
She quickly wiped the crumbs around her mouth and shoved her hands underneath the desk while I smirked.
“You all may be wondering why this class suddenly appeared on your schedule. This is one of the rarest classes here at Drew Collins,” Professor Yancy announced.
“The system found it necessary that you attend for various reasons such as knowledge seekers, the gifted, and those who need a bit of a warning…”
I felt his stare zoned in on Ayira and I as she cut her eyes towards me.
“A condition of continued being without resolution!” He added just as a dark-skinned man wearing a jumpsuit like he’d been in prison appeared in front of the screen and just stood there.
The flickering dark spots of the film showed just how old and how long ago this was recorded but then Professor Yancy began to explain.
“This is Obie…birth name given by his mother who was born a slave…You will not hear of his story much above ground because of what he was able to do…He was considered the most dangerous human alive at that point, but his records will never see the light of day. What you’re about to see is an extreme case of abuse.
If you are not comfortable with the truth, you may step outside. ”
Nobody moved as the man only named Obie stood in the center with his head leaning to the side. His eyes were barely open when he simply stared back at us. Professor Yancy leaned against his desk with his ankles crossed and waited as he brought his hand to his mouth.
“Your name?” A voice called out. When he didn’t answer, I turned my head the moment I heard the loud smack.
The difference in education in the Underground vs education above ground.
We were taught about slavery, the abuse, the beatings, and mistreatment.
Down here, they separated themselves from it.
A lot of them didn’t believe their descendants, including Namir who couldn’t remotely understand slavery much less relate to it, was their problem or history to worry about.
They had their own issues of classism and division down here but above ground, we’re all just seen as black.
I never understood the argument of wanting to distance yourself from our history but be a part of our culture all the same. Never made any sense to me.
The beatings continued, hearing the chair scrape and snap against the floor.
One glance and I could see they took the chair to beat the man down, slamming the split wood against his back as he laid on the ground.
Yet the man didn’t holler or scream. He didn’t flinch or fight back.
When they turned him over, he stood back up on his feet and stared straight ahead with a single blink.
I could tell there was fear from the white men when they stared at the one thing they couldn’t possess or control.
“What you’re seeing here is a man that does not exist in the physical form.
Obie has found a way to leave, and they know it.
They know he’s no longer in this world. They’ve starved him for weeks, beaten him for weeks, and it’s the same.
He’s able to maintain his physical form but he is no longer present.
Watch carefully at the shadow behind him. ”