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Blake's Academy
I'm not sure about this, I questioned, lugging my bag into the back seat of my fathers car. My heart beat unquestionably unstable. My mind, a rattled mess of wilt and curiosity as I dragged myself to the front seat of the car and slid into the drivers seat: uneasy.2
I was not a bold man, nor did I posses the optimism my father had provided that my mother never could, to enable me to be raised a strong man. Though today I had my reasons for being the impotent man that I was. 3
The leaf in my notebook. The many pages of my journal. The blank documents that were destined to be filled. 4
My life was no movie, no novel, no poem or story and while I intended to mark each page with the words and imagery that had wracked my brain senseless since summer writing school; nothing could compare me for the year ahead of me at Blake's Academy.5
What are you unsure of son, Alexis, my father demanded cheerfully. Not a crease, nor a wrinkle on his skin. 6
He shined of perfection. Even the dint, dimples, that complimented his pearly smile left him no digression. For a man his age, he was ageless. How could I ever compete with that? Would I ever compete with that.7
I kept silent, stuffing my notebook into an empty back pocket of my trusty backpack. My good luck charm dangling from my lips. 8
I could taste the sweet, non-toxic, sensation of the ink as it bleed through the chip at the tip of my pen: The taste of my creativity had never tasted so deadly in all my years of writing.9
Blake, Alexis perked waving to my mother who stood phone to ear, tapping her foot violently on the footpath. Her aggression feeding through the morning air, her barking apparent, much in par to the dog next door.10
I took my lucky charm away from my lips, slipping it into the open pocket of my bag. I wanted to keep silent, leave his question dangling. 11
He was a smart man. Surely he could figure it out for himself. He only had to look at my beet, red, face and watch as my body fluttered, shaking, trembling uncontrollably
as I averted my attention away from his eyes. Then would he know what I meant by my statement of uncertainty.12
Not everyone was like Alexis. Not everyone was super dad.13
What do you think? I asked, resting my backpack on my lap. My face heating up with frustration.14
I wanted to leave, leave now. At least I knew as soon as I was on the highway to success there was no turning back. That Blake's Academy would be my life now. That it was real and I was were I was meant to be. It was my true destiny. 15
I have a fair idea Blake, but I thought we had already gone through this?16
We have, I groaned, zipping my bag shut. My eyes on my mother as she turned her heel towards the front door. Not even bothering to kiss my goodbye. She never cared.17
Then stop worrying. You will worry yourself sick son. Take is as it comes today alright and enjoy the new experiences life is offering you.18
I laughed. His assurance humorous.19
You sound like John at camp. Every thing in life is an experiences. Take it, grasp it with both hands choke it down and take your pen to paper. Feed your experiences... feed your experiences.20
Alexis slid into the drivers seat. He to staring in confusion at my mothers disappearance.
He turned to face me, buckling his seat-belt and ushering me to do the same. 21
John is a wise man. Blake are meant to follow your dreams, this is meant to be who you are. The universe is leading you in the right direction. You know it, I know it, your mum knows it and more importantly Blake Academy knows it.22
I looked away, pretending to digging in my bag for my Mp3 player. I planned on a silent trip, a comforting trip. One where I could suck up the beauty that the world had to offer so that when I arrived I would certainly have something to keep me occupied, but Alexis was having none of it.23
Look at me when I am talking to you son, he asked softly, placing his hand heavy on my shoulder. The fatherly I-Know-What's best smile enlightening my mood.24
Why else do you think you were accepted into Blake Academy? You were born a writer. Don't let fear drag you down. Trust me, you have talent and someday the whole world is going to know Blake Love.25
I shrugged.26
I guess I was lucky, either that or someone gave up their position and they needed to fill it before the term started.27
Alexis chuckled, confusion in his voice.28
I could sense this trip would be about reassurance and not him reassuring me, but reassuring himself that I was in the right place. That I would find trust within myself and within my passion, enough to succeed. 29
I am going to miss your cynicism, he said, closing his door. Trust your talent. That is all I can say son.30
Trust my talent. What talent?31
For the past two months I had hid in the sanctuary of my bedroom. My desk full of yellow leaf pads, scattered pencils and balls of scrunched up paper piling as high as the roof for companionship and for what? Nothing. I was not a writer. I was a wannabe.32
Alexis pulled out of the driveway, the tire hitting the curb.33
I really wish your mother could have given you a proper farewell, he sighed, giving the house one more glance: before driving out into the street.34
I shook my head. My eyes following the red mailbox till it was no smaller than an ant. I was ready...ready for my life to begin.35
I don't, I whispered, looking ahead. She never cared and she never will.
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