Nicole headed to her class, walking with another teacher, Ms. Cobblestone, who taught Grade 10 History. But that’s not what they were talking about. 

“I so miss my old school,” Mrs. Cobblestone said, in reference to the recent news of the expelled learners. Nicole had grown used to this talk, even though it annoyed her sometimes. Like now. Mrs. Cobblestone couldn’t speak without mentioning her previous school, Marydil High, where her contract ended. If she didn’t miss the school she praised it. Or she’d compare it with this, making her displeasure of working here more obvious. How the equipment is more advanced than here. “Park Town High is a decade behind, to be honest,” (she hated how the classes didn’t have air conditioners). How the learners at Marydil were so respectful and smart, than the rascals here.

Nicole often stifled the urge of asking her why the hell doesn’t she go back there for a contract renewal. She noted that Mrs. Cobblestone’s comparisons weren’t academic, only structural. But Nicole reckoned that if she had taught at Marydil she’d also miss it. Especially now. But she wouldn’t rub it on anyone’s faces. 

“Nothing of this sort happened in Marydil,” said Mrs. Cobblestone. “Nothing.”

The two teachers parted ways. Nicole entered her classroom. The first learners were already in, and they went mute upon her entry. As if by a rule, they all stood up and greeted her. She had pulled her chair off the table. Someone left her two lilies and a note. Hope you have a day as nice as you. 

She looked up at all the learners. They were still standing. She greeted them back, but her voice came out weird and a tad too shocked. Did any of these kids leave the flowers here? Hope you have a day as nice as you. She studied their faces. She registered nothing. They all looked as normal and expectant, ready for the lesson. She told them to sit down, she herself settling down in her own chair. She didn’t trust the chair. She didn’t trust the table either, now that it’s clear someone was here. Was it the guards of the school? A noble act by one of them? She racked her brain some more. Or did Frederic, her friend, her neighbor teacher, leave the flowers? It’s possible. His class was near hers. He must’ve slipped in, dropped the lilies and card, then skulked out unnoticed. But the writing didn’t look like his. His letters were big and spacey. These were small, cursive.

A few people had admitted loving her, Frederic too. She’d cordially dismiss their proposal. She’d hate to come across as cocky. She’d take their feelings as a compliment. A vindication to her beauty. Some men flirted with her from time to time, but that was it. They knew their limits. They’d seen the ring on her finger. But now they were taking it a step further, whoever left the lilies and the note. They’d crossed the boundary. She hoped it better not be Fredric. Hope you have a day as nice as you. 

***

Two periods later Brandon and his class went to Room 23 for English. He inferred no sign from the teacher that she’d received his little surprise. Could it be possible that someone else had been to her chair before her? But Brandon thought it’s impossible. She did get his flowers. He wondered if she knew they were left by him. Each time she looked at him he thought she knew. I know, her pretty eyes told him, but then he also knew that’s just an imagination. 

After teaching she asked for their books, so she can mark the homework. Two learners walked from desk to desk, collecting the books. Brandon’s book had a Real Madrid logo on it, fully white, with a name tag at the upper middle. The bell rang for a lunch break and the learners got up.

Brandon found Skitzo at the back of the toilets. Skitzo said they should get away from here. He turned and they followed him. The three went to the other side of school, the other rear. On the way Brandon kept a watchful eye of any sign of Joey and Ben. Especially Ben, that fucking rat. 

Once the three got to the other side of the school K.T requested the stuff. Brandon took out his math textbook. 

“In there,” he said. 

K.T opened the book and found the drugs.

“The rest are at home,” Brandon said. 

“Okay.” K.T took them and handed the text book back to Brandon. 

“There’s been a change of plans,” Skitzo said. “Right after the assembly we were searched, K.T and I.”

“They searched you?”

They both nodded. 

“Like I told you, we are obvious suspects. Foley thinks it’s us who sold to those two boys. We were searched but them fools found nothing.”

“Well, they will now,” Brandon said. 

Skitzo grinned. “In this moment, yes. But not later. We have a secret stash here in the area. And no, we won’t tell you about it, so don’t ask.”

“I wasn’t gonna ask.”

“Good.” 

He watched K.T conceal the drugs in his bag with his skillful hand, fingers blackened by too many cigarettes and blunts. There seemed to be an opening teared inside at the back. A small flat pouch a quick eye might miss. It’s like K.T performed a magic trick. The drugs disappeared. If Brandon didn’t see where K.T slipped the drugs he’d fail to find them if he were to search him. He’d fail like the teachers did. So even if K.T did have the drugs with him, the teachers still wouldn’t find them. Brandon wondered if the secret stash they told him about was really necessary. 

“Do you guys know how those two were busted?” he asked. 

“Not a clue,” Skitzo said. “Do you?”

The question returned to Brandon, he thought about it. “I’m as clueless as you,” he replied. But it would be nice to also snitch on Ben. Rat on a rat. 

“No more dealing in school from now on,” K.T said. “You heard what Foley said. And we can’t afford the risk of having one of us caught. We’ve already lost too much men.” 

“I couldn’t agree more,” said Brandon with a sigh. At least he’ll move around free in school. “That means we won’t get to meet like this, right?”

“Yes. If the regulars come to you to buy act like you don’t know what they are talking about. Act like they’re mad. We don’t know the snitch, so it could be one of the buyers. But we’ll find out soon.”

“What will you do when you find him?” Brandon asked. 

Skitzo looked at him close. “Him? What makes you think it’s a ‘him’?””

“I’m hypothetically asking. It could be a ‘him’…or ‘her’. Or ‘them’.”

Skitzo and K.T exchanged a mean stare, like they were angry at each other. “You know something we don’t?” The question sounded like it prepared something gruesome. K.T’s the one who asked it. He stepped close to Brandon. Brandon stepped back.

Right then and there he almost slipped. “I don’t know shit,” he said. He hoped that came out as cold and tough as he had intended.

“Aren’t I also involved in this?” he asked. “It affects me as much as it affects you. Obvious if I knew who’s behind the snitching I’d tell you.”

K.T smiled with his black lips open. “Of course you would tell us,” he said. “As I was saying. You’ll deal outside, till the dust here settles. If it does settle. Meet us afterschool to get the pack.”

“Okay.”

“How much do you need to sell?” Skitzo asked. “How much do you have remaining?”

Brandon told him the estimated grams and size.

“What are you talking about?” asked K.T.

“Only reason he’s selling it’s because we got into a deal. He did some awful shit, so this is his payment,” Skitzo said. “He’s not one of us.”

“Now it makes sense. I’ve long wondered how this guy came into be our squad. It’s only temporary?”

“As soon as he’s done selling his share, he’s off. We let him go.”

“Razor agreed to this?”

“He did. He had to. We needed extra hands,” Skitzo said. “Admit it, K, the boy has been helpful.”

“That I agree, mate. But y’all broke Triple O’s law,” K.T said. “Since when have we recruited members for a specific amount of time? If you join us, you become Out Of Order till death. No visitors.”

“But Razor allowed this to be a thing.”

It’s like Brandon wasn’t here the way they spoke of him. 

“That’s bullshit. And you know it,” K.T said.

Then Brandon spoke up. “I’m not willing to join you, guys. I’m sorry but no. Once I’m sold out, I’m out. I’m gone. I don’t want to be a part of this more than I already am right now.” 

“You leave without dying or getting caught. Hypothetically.” K.T mimicked Brandon’s way of saying that. “What will happen with Triple O’s secrets?”

“He knows nothing, K,” Skitzo said. “He doesn’t even know how Razor looks like. He’s only job is to sell the stuff we’ve given him. That’s all. He’s not an official member.”

“The compound?” K.T asked.

“He doesn’t know it.”

“I didn’t even know you had a compound,” Brandon said. 

“He doesn’t also know our main selling routes and ways. He only deals in the streets. Even if he himself wanted to become one of us we wouldn’t allow it. He’d fail the initiation,” said Skitzo. 

“You’re right about that. He’s a weak boy.”

Brandon didn’t mind the insult, mainly because of the context behind it. Too weak to join a gang. What about those who died yesterday? Successfully joined a gang just to die off in the streets. To avoid that Brandon was prepared to be as weak as ever. 

“So even if our enemies capture him, say The Remy Boyz for example. Let’s say they capture him and then they demand information about us in exchange for his life. He would die, K. He knows nothing about the Triple O.”

“And I’d like for it to stay that way,” Brandon said. 

The loud bell told them the lunch break’s over. Some learners were already moving to class. The three went their separate ways in silence, as though they were strangers passing each other. Brandon met his classmates upstairs in Room 7, for Accounting. 

“Where were you?” Ben asked as they settled down on their seats. 

“Around,” Brandon said. He failed to think of a proper response without lying. “Why?” 

“Oh, nothing. Me and Joey were hanging out at the field, near the offices. I was wondering where you were.”

Brandon couldn’t be more glad that Ben didn’t search for him. “You were just chilling?”

“Yeah.”

“You weren’t doing none of your operation spy work?”

Ben laughed at this. “It’s my day off. And I don’t work alone, remember.”

“Oh, yes. I forgot.” Who in the world was in Ben’s team? 

“Besides,” Ben continued, “The sellers won’t deal. I know they won’t. Not with those two busted. They must be waiting for the storm to settle down. And that’s when we’ll get ‘em. Skitzo and his friend.”

“Skitzo?” Brandon said. “You sure it’s him?”

“He lives in your neighborhood. You know what he’s into. He’s an easy suspect. But they found nothing when they searched him. Dirty bastard, thinks he’s clever. But we’ll get him one day. We’ll get them all.”

Broderick, the Accounting teacher, walked in with a young girl. She carried a stack of books. She was sent by Nicole Gardner to deliver the books. The English teacher had completed marking the homework. Mohammed, Martin Cooper’s nerdy friend, walked around the class handing each learners their books.

Brandon opened his book after he received it. He’d promised to achieve the high marks for the homework and he did. The questions had been easy, to be honest. He may not be the only one who got total marks. Brandon noticed some words on the page. Besides the ticks and signature there’s something else the teacher had written. In a red pen, below the homework, on the next line. How’d you know I like Lilies?