Goal: Lie Conflict: Warning Disaster: Emasculated
Happy ordered his favourite; a jamaican patty in a kaiser bun drizzled in hot sauce. The Chinese man behind the counter put it in the microwave for 60 seconds until it was ready to serve. The kid behind him ordered the same but asked for extra mayo. Happy sat down and pulled out the previous day’s homework from backpack. His backpack was heavy with the textbooks for the day and his small folio of documents he used for his hustle. Happy inhaled his patty sandwich in a minute flat while he reread Amit’s English homework on the crumby table far enough away to not get any mayo on it. It was a breakdown of the ending of Taming of the Shrew.
His work was bomb as usual. The fast food place was on the end of the mall pointing towards the high school, with only the newly built police precinct between them. Division 21 had been built to show the community that Toronto headquarters hadn’t forgotten about this cesspool of ethnics.
“You’re an idiot.”
Happy looked up to see Sweety standing over his table.
He looked around for her clique and saw the rest of the girls, who were shopping for bubble gum at the convenience store on the other side of the mall corridor. Dilmit saw him sitting there and looked his way. Happy averted his eyes right away scoffed and muttered something under his breath. She couldn’t hear him but his lips spelled contempt. His vision resettled on Sweety again and he was now sure he wasn’t imagining her.
“What did I do?” Happy said.
“Saad just handed me a poem,” Sweety said.
“Oh that’s sweet,” Happy said, with obvious sarcasm.
“I started reading it and it sounded familiar. It’s the same one you gave Dilmit on Monday, with some lines changes,” Sweety said.
“What? It’s probably just a coincidence,” Happy said.
“You’re smarter than that,” Sweety said.
Happy started eyeing the door, and felt around in his backpack for the bread knife he has lifted from Mummi’s kitchen that morning.
“What did Saad say?” Happy said.
Happy waited for the blow up to happen.
“I didn’t tell him,” Sweety said.
“Why not?” Happy said.
‘Because he would kick your ass. You think this is a game? These guys are dangerous Happy. You’re doing this jokester stuff with the wrong stuff. Why did you do it anyway? I’m not going to tell Dilmit because it’ll break her heart,” Sweety said.
“How do you know it was me who wrote them. Saad is a poet in his own right,” Happy said.
“He’s smart, but not like you’re smart. I noticed he never reads a word in class. You’re not fooling anyone. Cut it out,” Sweety said.
“But did you like it? The poem,” Happy said.
Sweety paused.
“I liked it the first time I read it. Don’t break Dilmit’s heart,” Sweety said.
Sweety left. Happy finished his sandwich, got up and walked over to his next stop, the giant food court around the corner where Rexdale’s population all came after work and school. There was the McDonalds and several other restos, as well as the bank, shoe store and smoke shop. The state run liquor store took the most square footage. In between all of them where hundreds of chairs and accompanying tables set up in various arrays and heights to different groups could make their homes. In the middle say Gobind with Frick and Frack keeping guard for anyone unsavoury approaching.
Happy walked up and got dapped by Gobind. He pulled out last night’s math homework and exchanged it with him for today’s essay on the first act of Catcher in the Rye.
Since he’d started working with Gobind, Gobind had suggested he do it for other kids but charge them. This worked well as Gobind got his done for free and served as Happy’s muscle to make sure all the paying kids stayed in line.
Happy sat down beside Gobind and surveryed the food court. He saw the various cliques huddled together in lines to get their food of choice. Gobind and him sat on top of the table with their feet on the seets, soiling them for the next patrons with their winter grit. An overworked cleaning attendant pushed a filthy mop bucket towards the trash recepticles where the trays that had been deposited were tilting in a stack ready to keel over.