The sun was a shimmering orange orb on the horizon as Omar skated down Main Street, until he turned down a residential street and it was lost from view. Warmth remained in the air, a breeze rustling the leaves of each tree that lined the street. The hum of insects joined the crunching sound of his wheels as he sped home, drunk on the heady potential of summer and all the freedom it would bring. Depending, of course, on how his parents reacted when they saw his report card.
Omar let the skateboard launch ahead of him into the yard, the grass stopping it. He stooped to pick it up on his way inside, leaving it by the front door. He could smell the lingering scent of dinner, which gave him hope. Mr. Dandy had once said that people were more agreeable after they had eaten. His boss would often send free food out to unhappy customers before arriving to discuss the issue in person.
He found his parents watching television together in the living room while drinking wine, which was even better.
“There you are!” his father said, muting the television. Yousef’s tone was all business.
“How was work?” Anja asked.
“Great, Mom. Thanks.” He kissed her on the cheek.
“Do you have your report card?” Yousef asked.
Anja swatted his arm. “It can wait until tomorrow, can’t it?”
“No, it’s okay,” Omar said. “But there’s something I need to show you first.”
He swiped the remote control from his father and went to the VCR. Omar slotted in a tape and hit all the buttons as quickly as he could, so his parents wouldn’t ask too many questions, but they managed to get one in anyway.
“What is this?” Yousef asked as the tape began to play.
“A school project,” Omar said, turning up the volume.
His video yearbook, in fact. Music accompanied an establishing shot of the high school. And it looked really nice on the big screen TV. Not exactly LaserDisc quality. Not even close. But he was still proud.
Students walked across the lawn of Pride High and slowly entered the building. He had decided to make it feel like a normal day of school, starting in the morning. The chaos of the halls preceded footage from different classes, a lunch break in the cafeteria, some electives, and lots of after school extracurricular activities. He had checked all the boxes needed to make Principal Preckwinkle happy while doing what really mattered to him, because regardless of what the scene was or where it was set, Omar had focused on people. Friends joked around and students worked together, like the cheerleaders who practiced forming pyramids, but he didn’t choose just any shot. Each was emotional. Like when the cheerleaders fell down and laughed about it. Or when Ricky and Mindy nervously presented a project together. And so it went. Diego and Whitney bowed side-by-side on stage. Jocks danced around on the football field after a touchdown. And more of the same, because school sucked—there was no getting around that—but the people were great. The end result had him fighting against tears each and every time, and from the feedback he’d gotten, he wasn’t alone. The music certainly helped. Anthony had put together a soundtrack that elevated all the feelings he’d wanted to convey. The video ended with another distant shot of the school at night, just as the lights were turned off.
“Omar!” his mother breathed. “That was beautiful!”
“Thanks,” he said. “Just one more.”
He had prepared a special version of the tape for them. After the credits ended, the screen wavered before a new sequence began. A camera followed a birthday cake from the kitchen at Archie’s Pizza Pi all the way to an excited birthday boy. This video was just as emotional, since it brought back all the joys of having a birthday as a kid. The special sort of magic that was all-too-easily lost. He’d managed to capture some of it on tape though, where it would remain.
At the end of the video, he turned the television off. “I’m not going to lie,” Omar said to his parents, taking his report card out of his backpack. “My grades suck.”
“Let’s see them,” Yousef said, already holding out his hand.
“Not yet. I just want to say that I’m cool with whatever you decide once you see them, but it won’t make a difference. I know what I want to do with my life.” He gestured at the TV. “I burn with a fiery passion for this sort of thing. So you can make me work in your store, or take away my camera, or make me study with a tutor all summer. But as soon as I turn eighteen, I’m dedicating my life to filming stuff. Maybe that’ll be local commercials. Or you never know, I might end up a bigshot in Hollywood. Either way, that’s what I’m gonna do. I love you guys and hope you’ll support me, because I think I’m actually kind of good at it.”
“Are you kidding?” his father said. “You’re fucking great!”
“Yousef!” Anja said with a titter.
“Well it’s true. Now let me see the damn report card.”
Omar finally handed it to him.
“Not bad,” Yousef said while running his finger down it. “Not good either, but you got two As.”
One in journalism, the other in PE. The rest were Ds and Cs.
“You still need to get your grades up,” Yousef said. “Not because you’ll ever need to know half the stuff they teach, but you want to get into the best film school possible, right?”
“Yes,” Omar said, bracing for the axe to fall.
“We’ll figure it out next year,” Yousef said. “A tutor isn’t the worst idea.”
“But not during the summer,” Omar pleaded.
His father cracked a smile. “Not during the summer, no. How many of those video yearbooks did you sell?”
“Over five hundred,” Omar said. “Not that I get any of the money.”
“The least your school can do is bump up some of these grades. Haven’t they ever heard of extra credit? I’ll give your principal a call tomorrow. For now…” Yousef leaned forward and topped off Anja’s glass before refilling his own. Then he swirled the bottle. “There’s still some left. Would you like to try?”
“For real?”
Yousef looked to his wife.
“One glass wouldn’t hurt,” Anja said.
Yousef leaned back and smiled. “You heard her, son!”
Omar raced to the kitchen. They laughed when he came back with an old drinking glass from Archie’s, but it was one of his favorites.
“Can we watch the video again?” Anja asked.
Omar grinned at them while shaking his head in disbelief. “I love you guys so much!”
“We love you too,” Anja replied.
“Even though your sister got straight As,” Yousef added.
“Yeah, but did she get any wine?” Omar clinked glasses with his parents, then settled back with them to watch his greatest achievement so far, but by no means his last. He’d make sure of that.
CHAPTER 30
May 29th, 1993
When the doorbell rang at Ricky’s house, there was no longer anything to fear. The detective had gotten what he wanted. Nor was there anything to hope for, because Diego’s fate had already been decided. Ricky watched his mother cross the living room to answer the front door before his eyes returned apathetically to the television. His stupor was broken when he heard Cameron’s voice.