‘It must be One_Two_Mr_T_2002,’ Chloe said uncertainly. ‘He emailed me last week asking about our meeting … but I didn’t think he’d actually come.’
‘I’ll let him in,’ Paola said, heaving herself up off the chair and heading over to the door with a smile of muted anticipation on her face. ‘You never found out who he was, huh?’
Chloe shook her head, while Jun seemed to retreat, turtle-like, even deeper into the too-baggy athletic tracksuit he was wearing. Just as the knocking started again, Paola reached the door and opened it, and when she saw who was standing in the doorway, she almost stumbled back with shock.
The young man who stepped into the apartment, beaming out a broad smile and carrying a paper bag full of takeout food, had to duck to avoid bumping his head on the doorframe. At the height of six feet nine inches, though, Daekwon Johnson was used to ducking through doorways.
‘Hi guys,’ he said, almost shyly, ‘I um, b-, b-, b-, brought a bunch of vegan b-, b-, b-, burritos and green s-, s-, smoothies.’
The other three teens stared at him, slack jawed. Of all the people in Eisenhower High School who the mysterious One_Two_Mr_T_2002 could have been, Daekwon Johnson, track team star and Golden Gloves boxer, was the last person they were expecting.
Even though Daekwon was a star athlete, he was far from popular. A severe stutter – a lifelong affliction – accounted for a hefty dose of social awkwardness, and while he had always been too big and strong to be the target of bullies, unlike the other teens in the room, who had all endured their fair share of physical and emotional torment throughout their school careers, nobody had ever wanted to be his friend. In addition to his machine-gun stutter, his skin was afflicted with vitiligo, and the natural inky, almost blue-black hue of his skin made the pale, albino-like splotches of white, which covered half of his face and at least a third of his body, jut out even more starkly.
Despite the warmth of the day, he was dressed in a grey hoodie, skin-tight black jeans and gleaming white hi-top basketball shoes. As he stood in the doorway, he tugged subtly at the sleeves of the hoodie, pulling them lower over his vitiligo-covered hands.
Paola was the first to regain her composure after the shock of seeing Daekwon – on whom she had had a secret crush for years – standing in her doorway. The most naturally amicable and gregarious of the three, she beamed out a warm smile, did her best to control the furious blush that was rapidly heating her cheeks, and swept her arm across in an exaggerated gesture of welcome.
‘Come in Daekwon, it’s awesome to have you here,’ she said.
‘Th-, th-, thank you,’ he said, the stutter in his voice at uneasy odds with the puma-like grace of his poise.
‘I’ll get you a chair, hang on a sec,’ Paola said as she locked the door. ‘Lemme take that, I’ll get us some plates and stuff,’ she continued, smoothly relieving Daekwon of the paper bag and setting it down on the scratched coffee table in the centre of the room.
While she scurried off to the kitchen, Daekwon stood in the cramped living room and flashed Jun and Chloe a toothy if reserved smile. Chloe found that her usual brash confidence had deserted her, leaving only an embarrassing shyness in its wake. Jun did not return Daekwon’s smile. Instead, he simply stared at the tall athlete with the same deceptively blank expression with which he regarded everyone.
Paola returned to the room, carrying a couple of cheap plastic plates. She cheerfully handed one to each of her friends, and when she came to Daekwon, her unwavering, impossibly broad smile widened even further. She stood in front of him for a while, staring as if starstruck before Chloe spoke up, sensing that Daekwon was feeling a little awkward.
‘Paola, One_Two_Mr_T_2002 needs a chair, yo,’ she said, her voice sharp-edged with sternness.
‘Oh uh, you g-, g-, guys can call me D-, D-, Daekwon,’ Daekwon said.
‘A chair, yeah, yeah, a chair,’ Paola stammered, her usual bubbly confidence faltering. In the corner of the room was her brother’s battered drumkit, stuffed with stained pillows to suppress the noise. Paola grabbed the rickety drum throne and presented it to Daekwon. Perched on top of the low stool, his long limbs jutting out at all angles, Daekwon cut a rather comical figure.
‘Thanks for um, for l-, l-, letting me c-, come to your m-, m-, meeting,’ Daekwon said, his stutter kicking in with full, embarrassing force.
The other teens were quite surprised to see that he – the towering, all-star athlete – was self-conscious and struggling with confidence in their midst. Chloe, emboldened, took charge, her own confidence returning in force.
‘We’re happy to have you here, Daekwon,’ she said, flashing a disarming smile at him. The afternoon light streaming in from the open fire escape door caught her multiple facial piercings, adding a dazzling sparkle to her bejewelled, toothy grin. ‘As you can see, Eisenhower’s Environmental Club is well, kinda small, but we’re always looking to grow. And thanks for bringing the vegan burritos and stuff. I can see you’ve, like, done your homework on our principles.’
‘It ain’t no thing,’ Daekwon declared, ‘an’ besides, I’m v-, v-, vegan myself. I been p-, p-, plant-based for uh, th-, three years now. I started for the um, the a-, a-, athletic benefits, coz my boxing coach t-, t- told me about how it was good for r-, recovery time an’ shit, but uh, I done some reading an’ seen a lotta YouTube videos about how it’s good for the e-, environment too.’
‘And for innocent animals,’ Chloe murmured, unable to keep a caustic bitterness out of her voice, her facial features tightening with both a quietly seething anger and an iron-hard resolve. ‘They do not deserve to live in a state of like, permanent literal torture their whole lives, and then die
