School has never been so hard to sit through. Senior year is coming to a close, I already got accepted to three of the colleges I want to go to and it all just feels so pointless. I'm basically done with it all so most days I just feel like staying my ass home. I sit in Calc waiting for 12:45 when Trisha walks by my classroom door with her tongue stuck out and her eyes bulging out of her head. I always sat in a spot where I could see her pass because she was always doing something dumb. I smile and pretend to keep writing, my eyes on the board. She passes again, her eyes squinting at me as she sticks her middle finger right up to the little glass on the door. I pretend to be scratching my nose with my middle finger and make sure she catches it as she walks by again.

You would have thought this girl doesn't have class right now, but she just never goes. It was almost funny how much Trish doesn't care about school, but sometimes it just made me sad. I want the best for her and she's a very smart girl but I think over time the system got to her just like it got to most of the people in the hood. They don't think we'll go anywhere with poverty set up like this, the violence and the drug mix up. I don't blame them. It's all they've known.

Living in Brownsville was like walking into a heated room while wearing glasses. It's fogged up, you can't really see past it and some of these people don't understand that you can take the glasses off your face, wipe off the barriers they're putting against you and put on clean new glasses with a whole new vision. They have no vision because they've always been in a heated room with little to see.

I try to develop this concept in my mind enough to write a poem that embodies it all. As I write, I forget that Trisha is in the hallway being stupid. The teacher momentarily stops talking and is staring at the door with his eyebrows pointed down in confusion. Trisha's little head is peaking through the square glass and she quickly runs away from the door like a 5 year old.

The class giggles and Mr. Armstrong shakes his head and continues to work on the problem on the board. I don't know if he noticed that no one was paying attention. The rest of the class passed so slowly I didn't know what to do with myself. It's been at least 2 weeks since I met Flex, and in that two weeks Trev and I had already laid out lyrics and melodies and combined so many ideas. Flex said that I had a strong enough voice to sing independently so I've been working on a song of my own, with a poem for a bridge. I feel like people are about to call me the singing poet.

Either way, Trev has been working on some dope sounds, and most of the time I just enjoy being in the studio and listening to him, or writing my poems and listening to him, or doing homework and listening to him.

I just liked listening to him.

I know he was talented, but there's so many people who don't know. So many people he keeps it from.

It be like that in the hood though. People get jealous easily, and they don't want to see you doing anything positive, or else they think that you think you're better than them. Even going away to college is an issue. People change up when they come back apparently.

Trisha waits for me outside laughing as she approaches me.

"Yoo, Armstrong got them big ass eyes, scared the shit outta me." Her hair is in blonde and black box braids and she is wearing her favorite pair of jeans with a fitted pink top. She had a way of making the simplest outfits look really nice.

"Watchu up to lil nigga?" She said jokingly. It was something Jay always said to us. When he went off to college and came back nobody really talked to him except me, Trish and Trevon. Even his closest friends, or what used to be anyway, didn't like him. Yea, he dressed better and spoke a little more confident. I don't know what they did to him upstate but he even came back cuter than he left. But more than anything, Jay had looked happier, he had a successful glow. The hood saw someone different return that left, and even if he changed for the better, he still changed. That was all they needed.

"Nigga went to college and forgot where he came from. Came back actin like them privileged ass white people. Miss me with the bullshit."

I can't remember who said that exactly, but sometimes I feel like its because the whole neighborhood somehow had that similar echo. Like everyone was saying it. I feel like the older people should know better, but half of them are ignorant too.

"I'm free for a little bit, but I gotta dip soon." I told Trisha.

"Why? Where you gotta be at?" She asks looking at me weird. She let the last few days go without question but she was starting to get serious. I didn't tell Trish about Flex, or the songs or anything me and Trev had been working on. Mostly because Trev said not too. But I also didn't want her thinking it would turn into something big, like Trev planned for it to be. I leave to the college of my choice in less than 4 months. Nothing is permanent, so it shouldn't matter. What if I told her and got her hopes up, just to see everything turn out differently? On top of that, she would want to come to the studio with us, and I honestly kinda liked the alone time.

Well, alone time plus Flex anyway. But he wasn't really paying attention to us unless we were recording. It gave me a good outlet to write and be alone and it gave Trev a good outlet to stay out of trouble.

"I got this class i'm taking for one of the colleges i'm trying to get into. Like a bridge program kinda thing and-" I began a lie that I knew she would accept.

"Iight, don't care anymore. School related." She interrupted.

I laughed and then got completely serious.

"Yo, Trish." I say with a stern face. I walk in front of her and stop only inches away from her face.

"Why you not taking this seriously?You applied to any colleges yet?How ya grades lookin this semester?" I ask.

She rolls her eyes and does her little are-you-serious laugh. "Not this shit again." She mumbles. I remain quiet, waiting for an answer.

"Look ma, i'm good. I ain't goin to college, I aint got no bread and my broke ass pops damn sure aint got no bread."

"You think my family got money? We live in the same place, i'm doin the same shit you doin. Scholarships, grants, you know there are ways to get out of here and ways to get in there." I respond. She pushes past me and continues walking.

I can feel the heat rising to my head, I felt my anger bottled up in me ready to explode. I grab her hand, hard.

"You know there's white people out there dying to throw money at us hoping it makes them look better." I add. She was looking at me now, clearly getting irritated.

"That's the thing Chanel.." she realizes that she is yelling and attempts to lower her voice.

"I don't know shit. All these years I spent in this bumbass high school and I still don't know shit. You're a good student, you study, you get good grades. That's not me and you already know that, so before you go tryna act like the mother I aint never had, think about wathcu sayin."

I stopped in my tracks looking at her in disbelief. "You're smarter than you think."

"Yea iight." She laughs again but anger was still in her voice. "Yo, don't you have a program to go to? You blowin mines."

I got loud now, aggravated by her defense mechanism. " I'm tryna look out for you, motivate you, and you just gon throw it in my face? If you want to stay in the same place as your broke ass dad, you could do that, I aint gon say shit but don't think you aint have another way out." I spoke with as much bass as I could build up in my voice, and being a poet where emotions are highly necessary for performance, I know I got my point across.

She was silent for a few moments looking at me and I could tell that what I was saying was sinking in but Trisha was stubborn, it wouldn't be long before she found something to yell at me for, completely overlooking everything I said. I decide to go to Flex a few hours early.

"Trisha, when you ready to go somewhere... I swear I'll help you. I will sit here and help you get scholarships and grants, i'll help you write the essays, find a job up there, find a way to pay for the textbooks. I promise you I'll do all that shit. But you gotta want it." I was still passionately angered, but I left on those words and headed to the train station without Trevon.

*************************************************************

"Iight, what you wrote goes nice with the beat, but I think it would sound better if you sang the chorus again before you go into the bridge. It's catchy. People will remember it." Flex plays around with my vocals as I drink my water and adjust my headphones, the red and blue light ambiance inside the recording booth was everything, it didn't take long to get in my zone.

"Ima start you from the second verse." He says, putting his headphones back on.

I give him a head nod and then wait for the music to pick me up where I left off. I sing the second verse just how I had imagined it when I wrote it, then go straight into the chorus like Flex said to.

He looks at me through the booth with both his hands up and fists clenched, telling me to give the chorus power.

"It's a cold world,

No one knows where to go world

Chasing diamonds and gold world

I earn a thumbs up and smile, going into the bridge with the same emotion. The bridge was a poem I had created last week in class. Mostly about how money has been dominating us for centuries. Flex had a favorite line in the bridge that he always mouthed the words to as I said them. I don't know if he knew that I was watching him do it but it always put a smile on my face. I went hard, mouth close to the mic, eyes closed, letting my emotions pour into the song.

The bridge ends and Flex has already copied the chorus and pasted my vocals right after my bridge. I sing over the chorus along with the pre-recorded version then give him the signal to loop the chorus so I can adlyb.

He stares at me almost amazed and at my random riffs.

I was definitely in my zone now and it felt amazing. The song was poppin and my faith in it was at an all time high. The song ends and I kill the last high note I have. As soon as the beat comes to a close, I take off my headphones and put them around my neck. I can see Flex through the clear window of the booth with the biggest smile on his face. He motions for me to come out and I do.

He is smiling a smile so big and radiant that it brightens my entire day all over again.

"What?" I ask sticking my neck out. "You gon say something or just look at me funny?"

"Yooo you killled that shitttttt son!" He explodes. "Oh my God. You beast ass nigga. You not even a girl anymore, you a beast ass nigga." He continues. I chirped like a little girl and gave him a big hug.

"That shit was live. It was. I'm proud."

I am still smiling from ear to ear when I hear a knock on the door. I look at the time and it's after 6 P.M. I had completely forgotten that Trevon was suppose to be here.

Flex opens the door for him and Trevon did that handshake I someday hoped to learn. But he walks right pass me. Flex senses the tension and comments briefly.

"Okayyy." He laughs. "Ima need you not to mess up the good aura and steady flow we had before you entered."

Trev looks at him and sits down in the chair across from the booth.

He is mad at me. He hasn't been mad at me for a while. I didn't like it, it made me feel uneasy. It was odd not seeing him smile, instead he sat with his jaws clenched and his arms rested on his knees leaning forward.

"Did I do something?" I ask going over to him. Flex was in hearing range but pretended not to care about what was going on.

"Nah, you good. Don't stress." He answers not looking at me once. He takes out his phone and starts scrolling through. I can feel my eyebrows creased.

"Sorry for leaving you, I got into a fight with Trisha and I just wanted to come record." I say sincerely. He doesn't respond so I shrug and get back to Flex who is editing the vocals I just did.

"Listen to this." Flex hits play and the chorus I just sang flows through the speakers, with some added reverb and echos. I realize he also added bass to the beat, as if it wasn't hot already.

"It's a cold world (cold world)

No one knows where to go world (gold world)

Chasing diamonds and gold world (gold world)

The effects made it sound incredible. So incredible that I was speechless and giddy. I was hype all over again. He smooths out my vocals in the bridge, making me sound almost angelic. Never have I been so proud. My first song.

"What you bout to call this masterpiece?" Flex looks at me cheerful.

I thought for a moment. "Are you?"

"Are you, as in, with the question mark at the end?" Flex questioned. I nodded. "That's wild." He said with a smile. I guess wild meant good so I he was down. I laugh and listen to the beat, as Flex changes small kicks and mixes the background vocals in. We were having a complete blast and Trevon was just sitting in the chair on his phone for at least another hour.

We finish up the song and decide to work more on it some other time.

"Yo, Trev. You want to work on that trap beat? You made anything to it yet?" Flex asked looking over at him.

"Oh, y'all done?" He had the attitude I didn't really want to put up with right now, and I wasn't sure how Flex would put up with it because I've never seen Trev mad around him. I took my phone out my bag to avoid the awkwardness. As soon as I clicked on the screen I saw 5 missed calls and 3 text messages. All of them from Trevon.

My heart sank almost immediately. I felt terrible.

I opened up the texts that read.

Yo, meet me at the train at four. I got something for you. You gon love me for this. lol

Where you at brozayy?

You deadass?

I put my phone in my pocket, pulled my hair to one side and walked over to him with the most innocent look on my face.

"I'm soweee." I said sitting next to him and wrapping my arms around his muscular right arm. His dark skin and my brown skin is a cute contrast. I put my cheek on his shoulder.

"I'm glad you handlin him cause his attitude was bout to get him smacked up in here." Flex jokes pretty much laughing him off.

"You not gon forgive me nigga? Forreal?" I said in a tiny high voice Jay used to use. It got him to crack a little smile he hid by turning his head. Jay was always in need of forgiveness when we were younger, always getting Trevon into trouble.

"Fine be mad."I said laughing and getting up.

"You ain't shit." I add, poking my finger in his face. I poke him on the cheek hard enough for it to turn his head. He half smiled again then clenched his jaw trying to be serious.

"You ain't shit, big head ass nigga." I poke him again and he grabs my hand.

"Stop playin." He laughs lightly. I smile sheepishly and struggle out of his grip and did it again. He dodges my finger this time and grabs my arms tightly so I can't move.

"Oww, that hurts!" I complain. He wouldn't let me go even after all my struggling.

"Leave me alone." He said close to my face with a little smile, I really came to love.

"You got it brozayy." I chuckle. He clenches his hands tighter around my arm and I scream in pain.

"Y'all play too much, we got work to do. Stop the childish games in here." Flex was laughing as he continued mixing down my vocals. "Let her go." He adds.

Trevon let me go leaving red hand prints on my arms. I pouted looking at them. "Look what you did." I whine.

"You be aight." He mocks getting up and walking pass me. As he passes he stops and whispers in my ear. " You know you like that." The comment catches me off guard and I pretend to gag.

"Brozayyy." He screams as he heads into the booth.

"Shut up. n stop yellin in my studio." Flex warns.

I laugh ready to listen to what he's coming up with.