EXCERPT from “Surprises”
Mitchell appeared in the doorway, squinting because of the bright sun rays beaming through the windows, only able to make out the silhouettes of what appeared to be the last two people in the classroom. He quietly eased into the room, realizing one was a little girl with her back to him; three, fluffy, braided ponytails with wine barrettes affixed at the ends hung a little past her shoulders. The other, a young lady— presumably Miss Johnson—was kneeling down talking to her. Suddenly he recognized the wine colored pants and gray shirt with wine collar and sleeves worn by the little girl. He’d sent the outfit to his sister over the summer. He hadn’t spotted her in the cluster of kids in the hallway, now he knew why.
“Miss Maaac,” he uttered, wearing a mischievous grin. The reason she wasn’t trampling to the buses with the other kids never crossed his mind.
Miffed at hearing the familiar voice calling her name, Mackenzee’s eyebrows furrowed, and she quickly spun around.
“Mitcheee!” she screamed, completely surprised and excited to see her brother. She rushed toward him. “Mitcheee!”
Mitchell squatted, spreading his arms.
“Miss Mac!” She jumped into his arms into a bear hug. He pecked her on the lips. “How’s my favorite li’l lady?”
“Fine,” she replied, wearing a big smile.
Mitchell held her away from him looking her over. A laminated name tag hung from a string around her neck.
“Maaan, Miss Mac … what has G-Lady been feeding you? You’ve grown so much since I last seen you.” She giggled, fully exposing delightful dimples. “But you’re still pretty as a swan.” He kissed her on the forehead.
“Ooh, Mitchee, you smell sooo good.”
“I better. You wouldn’t want some stinky boy kissing you, would you?”
She giggled. “Where’d you come from, Mitchee?”
“Outta nowhere. You know I’m magic,” he teased, nuzzling her neck.
Mackenzee squirmed and laughed for a second, then all in one breathless, hurried sentence, poured out how she had pushed Nikki because she kept teasing her.
At that moment she was so cute there was no way he could be disappointed with his little sister. “Ohhh Mac … you know you’re not supposed to be fighting,” he said very gently. Man, it seemed like just yesterday she was a baby crawling around the house destroying anything she could get her little chubby hands on. Now … here she is in pre-school, and already trying to settle disputes the wrong way.
“But Mitchee, she-she made me so mad … teasing me about my picture I was making for you. I didn’t try to hurt her though.” She had her arms around his neck looking contrite.
“Well—”
“Hi. I’m Miss Johnson, Mackenzee’s teacher.”
The voice startled the two siblings who’d been so caught up in their reunion that Miss Johnson’s presence had become oblivious to them.
His attention on his sister broken, Mitchell’s eyes settled on a plain, yet attractive twenty-something sista in blue slacks, blouse of a lighter shade of blue, and complementing shoes. Her hair was pulled tightly into a bun secured by a hair band matching her slacks. She had a make-up free, smooth, caramel toned face. And, something he normally resisted observing on a woman was that she had body.
“Hello, Miss Johnson.” He was slightly abashed because he’d pictured Mac’s teacher as being much older; middle-aged in fact, likely in a flower-print, shapeless dress that hung to her knees. As she smiled, revealing a sexy dime-sized gap, he couldn’t help but notice, even though he preferred not to, her kissable-looking plump lips gleaming in lip gloss. She was definitely no old lady. Not by a long shot. “I’m Mitchell. Mitchell Thomas.”
“Hello, Mitchell Thomas,” she said, moving toward them, wondering why this little boy wasn’t at school. It wasn’t time for high school to be out, she thought, reflexively scanning the clock above the blackboard. She’d been caught up in the endearing greetings between her student, and this … Mitchell, whoever he was.
Mitchell lowered Mackenzee to the floor.
“I’m Mac’s brother.” He extended his right hand and clasped Jazelle’s hand. “I came to see if I can pick her up.”
“You came to get me?” Mackenzee asked, surprised.
“Yep.”
“Ooooo weee,” she sang.
Smiling, Mitchell glanced at his sister. Then to Jazelle said, “Mrs. Green said I must get your approval, because I don’t have authorization from”—he swept the cellular in his free hand back and forth between Mackenzee and himself—“our mother.”
Now knowing he was Mackenzee’s brother, Jazelle released her hand, which Mitchell held longer than he’d realized, and smoothed the hand over her blouse. She was slightly flushed by how soft his hand was. She’d never had a massage, but if she ever did, hands similar to his are what she’d want working the kinks, aches, pains, and tension from her body. And the scent emanating from him … if she’d had a man, and he wore whatever that cologne was, she’d be all over him like a dog in heat. Mackenzee was definitely on point about him smelling good. “Mi … ahh…” She’d forgotten his name that quickly. Unnerved.
“Mitchell.” He refreshed her memory. “But you can call me Mitch. Either is fine with me.” There was a time when he probably would’ve jokingly added, “But Miss Mac is the only person I’ll allow to call me Mitcheee.” But he’d turned reserved over a certain period, and pointless dialogue was a rarity for him. Definitely with anyone he didn’t know well—women mainly. “So will you okay it?”
“Right. Mitchell,” Jazelle said, a bit embarrassed by the impromptu amnesia. As for him wanting to take Mackenzee, she was curious about the difference in their last names, but refrained from asking about it. It was plain to see they had a very close bond. She subtly studied his face, seeing the similarities they shared: thick pretty eyebrows above his magnetic brown eyes, a not too flat or too wide nose, attached to a somewhat oval peanut butter face. The big difference was his absence of dimples. But his smile was engaging enough to win you over. There was something about him she couldn’t pinpoint, though. “Mitchell it is,” she uttered with unintentional sultriness; sultry enough to startle herself.
The utterance also startled Mitchell, and he stiffened. She had said his name like something that tasted delicious. It made him uncomfortable. She’d almost reminded him of…
“So is it okay if I take her?” he asked impatiently while absently fidgeting with the cellular phone, surveying the room. He imagined his classroom must’ve been similar when he was in pre-school. The letters of the alphabet in capital A, small a, through capital Z, small z, were strategically placed above the chalkboard on the wall behind Miss Johnson’s desk. Ten double-sided paint easels stood in the back of the room. Neatly lettered blocks, board games, toy cars, dolls, and a selection of toys were all in what he assumed was the play area. Small plants sat on the window ledges, and about twenty miniature-looking desks were neatly lined in rows of five. On the wall coinciding with the doorway, SEPTEMBER in bold lettering was above a calendar which he imagined Miss Johnson had created. Small animal figures cut from red and yellow construction paper with stenciled numbers served as the date markers. Next to the chalkboard, the American flag was bracketed at an angle, and he wondered if the preschooler’s learned the Pledge of Allegiance at such an early age. He couldn’t remember when he’d learned it; it had been too long ago. The major difference he noted from his pre-school days was the presence of a computer.
“Miss Johnson?” He said it realizing she still hadn’t answered his request, but wishing she would agree to it. Quickly.
His voice snapped her from her reverie. She was still tripping on his strange affect on her. “Oh—yes. Normally I’d check with the parent, but I can see by you all’s reception, that it should be fine if you take her.”
“Yesss!” Mackenzee blurted.
Jazelle then had a thought as she absently fidgeted with some papers on her desk, trying to extinguish the unsettling disturbances this youngster had somehow stirred in her. “What about her aunt who usually picks her up at the bus stop?” she asked, purposely omitting the aunt’s name.
Mitchell peeped out the test. His mama and her baby sister, Carla, had an arrangement where Carla picked Mac up every day except Monday, when his mama was able to pick her up, since it was her day off.
“I already talked to Aunt Carla, and let her know I was getting Mac from school.”
Mrs. Green abruptly appeared in the doorway, informing Jazelle that the bus driver was waiting on her, and that Nikki had gotten on her bus, but wanted another band-aid for her knee in case the other came off. “I obliged the little munchkin then walked her to the bus,” she said, laughing as she turned and walked off.
Nikki must’ve been the little girl in the office, Mitchell thought.
“My God, I’d forgotten about it being my scheduled day for bus monitor,” Jazelle said skittishly. She took a quick glance at the clock. “We’ve got to get outta here. The driver is waiting on me.”
That’s what I wanted to do anyway, Mitchell thought.
“Okay,” he said. They gathered Mackenzee’s back pack and stuffed her things in there. “It’s time to go celebrate y’alls birthday li’l sis.” And get away from this lady.
“It was nice meeting you, Mitchell,” Jazelle said.
“Nice meeting you also,” he responded, holding Mackenzee’s hand, stopping himself from adding, “After hearing so much about you.” Mac raved about her every time he’d talked to her on the phone over the past few weeks. “Oh, and thank you for letting me take her.”
Smiling, Jazelle nodded. “You’re welcome, but if you have your mother provide authorization, you can pick up Mackenzee anytime.”
“Alright.”
“Mackenzee, you have a nice birthday, baby,” Jazelle told Mackenzee, “and tell your mother the same.”
“Okay. ‘Bye Miss Johnson,” Mackenzee said, cheesing big.
cd
“Where’s your car at, Mitchell?” Mackenzee asked when they got outside. They were standing near the flag pole, looking at the noisy kids on the buses.
“Behind the last bus.” Mitchell pointed at the Cadillac, relieved to be out of Miss Johnson’s presence.
Mackenzee shook her head. “Unh-unhhh. That ain’t yours—your car’s red.”
Mitchell grinned. His smart and perceptive little sister wasn’t about to let him fib to her.
“You’re right, Miss Mac, it’s not my car. But it is what I’m driving.”
“Ohh.”
“And it’s your car.” He loved playing games, and trying to trick his little sister.
Her eyes shot open quickly. “My car? Unh-unhhh!” She was grinning and shaking her head. “I dunno how to drive, Mitchee.”
“I’m gonna teach you.”
A completely awestruck expression adorned her face. “Fa real, Mitchee?” she sing-songed.
He started cracking up. “Gotcha!”
For some get back Mackenzee started swinging at him. Mitchell juked and side-stepped her flailing arms, dodging her like a game of freeze tag. While they giggled and played around, Jazelle came hurrying from the building, passing them as she climbed onto the bus. Mitchell paused, quickly glimpsed at her, and then gently tugged Mackenzee’s hand, motioning her toward the car. “Come on Miss Mac, I’ll tell you ‘bout the car on the way home.”
He pivoted, stealing a last look at the bus Miss Johnson boarded. With all the raving Mac had done about her, she’d never mentioned how pretty she was. Guess little kids don’t pay much attention to looks. He saw fine women on a daily basis, but for some reason, Miss Johnson disturbed him and it freaked him out.
He’d get authorization to pick up Mac, alright, but for the sake of peace of mind, he’d just wait for his little sister out by the buses next time. If he never laid eyes on Miss Johnson again, it would still be too soon.
cd
From the bus, Jazelle cast a passing glance at Mitchell and Mackenzee as they walked by. With it being Friday, the kids were overly hyper, and she was barely able to get them to settle down because her mind was elsewhere. She was aware that it was hot as heck on the bus, though, because her armpits and forehead were already feeling damp. She dug out a paper towel from her pocket, dabbed at the beads of sweat before it ran down her face.
Her thoughts continued to linger on Mitchell. Something about him had her perplexed. Exactly what, she wasn’t sure. Doubting him being Mackenzee’s brother wasn’t it; she had no doubt they were brother and sister. It had more to do with his mannerisms. For a teenager, he seemed too mature. There was an adult-like aura about him. Only, he was certainly the high school brother Mackenzee often mentioned. And the affection he showed for his little sister was abnormal for a boy. They acted like they hadn’t seen each other in months.
Though ashamed and embarrassed for thinking it, she was almost empathizing with the rash of teachers around the country lately that had gotten in trouble for illicit relationships with students. He was the type who’d have a teacher tempted.
Hearing the driver prodding the accelerator before pulling off, she snapped from her thoughts. After instructing the few kids who were standing to sit down, once they were seated, she sighed.
As the bus began to move, she claimed a seat also.