Well, it's that time of year again. Holidays, mid terms, exams, and general chaos everywhere. I was trying desperately to finish my few remaining chores and get outta the classroom. I needed a break from my class, I had plenty work to do, but I needed a few days off. I was just walking into the cloakroom when I heard a faint knock at the door. After a minute or so the knock was a little louder. Just as I went to answer it one of my students stuck his head in the door. "Mr Holt, you in here? It was Tyrone, a young black male. He was a junior, about 17 I think. Maybe 18, I'd heard he had repeated an earlier grade before but I wasn't sure. "Can I holla atcha fo' a minute" he asked. I really didn't have any objections excpet that I wanted to leave so badly. He shuffled in, baggy jeans sagging down his hips like they wear these days, baseball cap on backwards and a shiny new b-ball jersey. "Study for these exams Tyrone", i said, trying to sound encouraging. He just shrugged and didn't say anything. We stood there for a few awkward seconds and again, trying to encourage him I said "You know you can do the work and I know you can too". Again nothing, he was an o k student. He'd started out very well, straight B's and the occasional A but of late he was sliding back to C's and D's. I didn't want this trend to continue so i wanted to encourage him a little.
"I'm trying to get out of here Tyrone" I said. He went to speak but for some reason held his tongue. Again, a few more awkward moments and I asked again what did he want? Finally after what seemed like hours he asked "Mr Holt - is there anyway I can like, ya know, anyway you can like loan me a passing grade - I mean jes let me borrow a good grade to pass dis test...I mean I jes wanna know if i can like, ya know, borrow a good grade fo' a lil while and like, ya know, pay it back later?" He sure caught me off guard with that one. I shook my head no and told him that if he needed extra help there were plenty of tutors available to help him study. He wanted no parts of that. "Naw, naw, dey can't help me none" he said. "I got myself dis particular problem, where I can't concentrate on nuthin' rite now, see what I'm saying, I can't git my focus rite fo' dese tests". I wondered if he was having domestic problems or abuse problems at home. He assured me it was nothing like that. "I jes got dis lil problem where I can't git focused on dese tests". I asked what kind of problem. "Well, it's kinda personal" he responded. Since he said it wasn't abuse or anything I still had hopes of getting out of there soon. "Well, Tyrone, if i were you I would just leave this problem on hold for awhile and concentrate on these mid-terms, get my priorities straight" I tried to sound hopeful. He shook his head and a few more moments of awkward silence followed. "I jes can't git my mind rite, rite now, fo' dese tests" he repeated. Again I reminded him about the tutors, he shrugged me off again, "naw, naw, dem tutors ain't 'bout nuthin'" he insisted. I felt I'd done just about all I could do and went about stuffing my briefcase when he again interrupted..."Can't i jes like, ya know, jes git you to loan me a grade til I git dis problem taken care of, you said yo'self you know I can do the work?" I explained that was not only against the rules but not fair to the other students. He interrupted "yeah, but nobody'll know, it could be jes like...let me git a, like C+ or even a B, jes fo' a minute and like I can make it up later in the year". He made it sound so simple, but I couldn't do it. Again I held fast. "And" he began, "it's not only jes fo' me, but it's mutual...I can roll dat way - fo' a minute". I had no idea what he was talking about. More awkward silence. Then he spoke up again " See, if I can jes like, ya know borrow dis grade fo' a minute and like ya know, make up for it later on, cuz...dat is, if I think I'm right, I mean I know I am...cuz, like...I jes gotta be right and dat's all it is to it". He'd lost me completely. I was totally clueless. "Well Tyrone" I said, "study hard, if you need a tutor just call any of them, their numbers are on the bulletin board in the main hallway" I could see he wasn't about to give up so easily. I had hoped to be on my way home by now.
"Well look, who would it hurt" he began "if i jes...like, borrowed dis grade, jes fo' a minute, dat's all, ain't like I'm asking to pass da whole class, but jes fo' a minute and like, ya know, uhh, make it up later in the year, what's so wrong 'bout dat?" I stood there for a minute, not answering, and slowly I went to sit at my desk. I was trying to think of something to reason with him. He gestured in front of me, shaking his head, waving his hands. He was about 6'1", maybe 175 or 180lbs, I could picture him as a wide receiver for some college team. He was incredibly athletic looking. Not an ounce of fat on him. I looked at him and took in all his magnificent glory. His smooth, dark skin and creamy white, very pretty and even, straight white teeth. His dark eyes, his short haircut, tapered just right, his long boney but hard fingers, his strong hands, the thin wiry biceps, sinewy thighs and that incredible six pack he had. I wished I looked like him. I thought to myself that this guy probably never has any trouble with girls, black or white. It seems he and Donnessa, another junior were seeing each other. Donnessa was just the opposite, caramel skinned, very short - about 5'2", full figured, goodness her chest and hips looked like they belonged on a grown woman. She'd had a baby about a year earlier when she was maybe 15 or 16, I wondered if Tyrone were the father. She hung out with Charmaine, another junior in one of my classes. Charmaine was a Queen Latifah clone, almost. Barely 18, but looking like 25 or 30. She was very loud and extremely aggressive - you know the type, running everybody else's business, constantly interrupting the class, abusive and full of attitude. She had 2 babies.
"Like I was saying, Mr Holt" tyrone snapped me back to the present. "Dis ain't jes fo' me, but about right now, it can be mutual, cuz I jes know I gotta be right" Still had no idea what he was talking about. I had made up my mind now to leave, I should've been home by now anyway. "Tyrone, put your problems in perspective, you know what you have to do, do the improtant thing right now and get a good grade on these tests..." I hesitated - "call one of the tutors" - "Naw, naw, fuck dem" he hollered. He actually scared me. I was too afraid to speak, and just let it slide. "Well, I ain't mean 'dat" he said. I was ready to go, I mean I wanted out now, nothing against him, but I wanted to get home, pronto.
"Well, like, I know I'm right" he said, "I jes gotta be, it don't make no sense no other way". Again, I'm clueless...Tyrone, you must study for this exam, it's very important for your overall grade for the year." I could tell he wasn't listening, not even trying to listen. He was just shaking his head. I didn't know what else to do, I felt I'd done just about all I could do. I closed up my briefcase and stood up to go when Tyrone got up and said "jes fuck it, forget I even asked, I don't see what's so wrong 'bout trying to git help passin' dis exam". He scared me again, right down to my socks. "I could roll dat way fo' a minute, I really could" he said. The tension in the room was just about unbearable, I knew I had to make my move now or it'd be no telling when I would get out of there. "Tyrone"...I began, he interrupted abruptly - "don't nobody wanna help nobody no mo', it ain't even dat bigga deal" I smiled and turned to leave. I encouraged him one last time to seek aid from the tutors, but again he just waived me off. "dat shit ain't rite" he said to me. I didn't know what he expected from me. I'd reached my wits' end. "Mr Holt, you don't even care..." I stopped in my tracks, I turned around slowly, not wanting to offend him, because I was actually afraid of him. Yes I admit it, he really scared me. I didn't hink he'd get ruff or anything, but he scared the piss outta me anyway. Now I was afraid to leave for fear of offending him. I took a deep breath and fianlly gathered up enough courage to speak. "Tyrone, please" I pleaded, "just try & get some help with your studying and do the best you can, you know you're a good student, I know it as well".
Again he wasn't listening, just shaking his head. I felt I shouldn't leave without at least making a sincere effort to try to reach him somehow. "Everybody has problems at one time or another" I ad-libbed. "But to see a smart kid just give up like that is very distressing" I barely had time to finish when Tyrone jumped up and said "shit, dat's what's wrong, a damn kid, you think I'm just a damn kid". "No, I didn't mean it like that" I stammered. Too late he was just about to boil over. I realized I'd blown it. I was downright scared to death now, his aggression was rising, I almost shit my pants I was so scared. "I'm sorry", I weakly stammered, like a - bitch...I was so fucking pathetic...almost as if I were afraid he was gonna kick my ass or rob me. "Tyrone, I'm, deeply sorry" I profused. He just kept shaking his head and saying "a damn kid, you think I'm a damn kid". "No, no,no" my pathetic bitch ass kept repeating, actually stuttering would be a better description, I was this close to shitting my pants by now.
To my horror and/or amazement...Tyrone unzipped himself to me and demanded "Is dis a damn kid Mr Holt, is it???" I couldn't believe it. He exposed himself to me, a fabulous piece of deep dark chocolate about 8 or 9 inches long. My mouth fell open, my breath stuck in my throat, I could feel my heart beating in my chest, I was paralyzed with fear and excitement. I went blind for a second. I didn't know what to do, I couldn't move, I couldn't speak, I couldn't blink, I couldn't breathe...it was as if I turned into a statue. "Well, Mr Holt...is dis a damn kid" he demanded. "Is it" he roared. "Tell me, is dis a damn kid?" Again. like the punk ass little scared bitch I am, I just weakly shook my head. He stepped closer to me. I was paralyzed with fear, I couldn't move, he knew it. I just gave myself up for dead. I prayed he wouldn't hurt me. At the last second I thought I could give him my wallet or car keys or something and he would spare me. Now he was directly in front of me, effectively blocking my exit from the room. I gripped the handle of my briefcase until my knuckles turned white. He gripped his prick right in front of me and I instinctively raised my briefcase up to protect my face. He laughed, because then, he knew he had me just where he wanted me. He stepped closer and I began praying, I was trembling and sweating. I decided I would just go down with his first punch and just play dead. He could have my wallet and car keys, just please don't hurt me. Scared little punk bitch that I was.
"I said - is dis a kid, Mr Holt" he raised his prick up to me only a few inches away. Totally freaked out with fear, I again weakly shook my head. "What???" he bellowed. Somehow I managed to whisper the words "no, no" which made me sound like an even more little punk ass pathetic bitch. "See I know what time it is, Mr Holt...and I been peepin' yo' game...I mean, I knew what I saw...I knew I was right, 'bout you...I jes knew I was...it had to be, it jes had too." Right then I gave myself up for dead and decided to accept my fate. Tyrone stepped even closer, his fabulous prick only two or three inches away. His smile, his pretty white teeth, that gleam of total confidence in his eyes...I felt like he could take those pretty teeth and bite me around the neck and drag me off to his lair or something.
"See. I don peeped yo' game Mr Holt," I swallowed so hard it hurt my throat, I hoped he hadn't heard it, but you know he did. "I knew I was right 'bout chu...I jes had to be, I mean i ain't never been wrong 'bout dis' shit before, so I had to be rite". My bottom lip was trembling, my knees were knocking, my hands were shaking and I started feeling as if I were about to faint. My knees were about to give out, so I let myself slump back against the blackboard. Grinning, Tyrone moved in even closer. His prick was now rock hard, like a Greek Adonis or something, almost as if it were carved out of marble, the ridges in it, the veins running up and down the length of this smooth coal-black prick had me cornered like a snake with a rat. Tyrone leaned over to me, fabulous prick in hand, he smiled again with all those pretty teeth, all those gorgeous, lovely white teeth, his creamy white teeth...well you get the picture. His pretty teeth hypnotized me. They held me at bay. "I knew what was goin' on first day I saw you" he began. I could feel his breath in my face. Less than an inch seperated us. My own teeth were chattering I was so scared, my breathing was labored. Even tho he was practically whispering his voice sound like cannon fire to me. He began real slow and deliberate, and started to count on his fingers, the long bony fingers, perfect nails, so hard and shiny, almost as if they had clear polish on them. Again, you get the point. Somehow I was able to actually look him in the eye and still keep an eye on his perfect, fabulous - too gorgeous prick. "This is it" I said to myself, I'm gonna just play dead. Tyrone began to count out in a very deliberate tone: "you ain't married...ain't got no girlfriends...I ain't never seen you with no women...so you gots ta be ...faggy, baby!" he accentuated the baby part.
He was dead right, I had absolutely no women friends at all. I ate lunch by myself in the teacher's lounge, I really had nothing to do with any of the female teachers at all. I could've kicked myself for being so stupid. "Tyrone resumed: "now like I was saying, you gimme dis grade, and I could roll yo' way for a minute...jes a minute." Now I knew what he meant, it was crystal clear to me now. I had to convinve him that he was wrong, somehow I had to convinve him he'd made a mistake about me. Without angering him and getting me killed in the process.
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