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[center][img]https://www.numeromag.nl/wp-content/uploads/2023/02/Screen-Shot-2023-02-24-at-3.47.49-PM.jpg[/img]
[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/240415/dd7c0e17374635f9b4909ccc7d2fe62a.png[/img]
[i]TRIGGER WARNING: POLITICS/RACIAL UNDERTONES[/i]
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[color=83BF00]“Yo, let me talk to ya.”[/color]

Isaiah Strickland gazed at himself in the mirror, holding his hair brush in his dominant left hand, his walls adorned with his political dreams fading away in lew of a sold out crowd of like minded young men and women who wanted what he wanted, who felt what he felt and shared his vision. He looked out at their faces and saw the future, a better future for the world and everyone in it and everyone yet to arrive in it. This was the song, his one shot to make a mark. 

[color=83BF00]“If you got no critics, you’ll get no success;
Don’t shoot yet son, don’t stress son,
Truth is on the side ‘o’ the oppressed
Be a Red man, yellow man, God be a black man,
Don’t matter what,  just be a good man. 

Don’t throw away your shot,
You got one, take aim, give it everything that ya got.
Don’t fire on your people, fire on society
Broker change, make it better, now that’s a priority.

Guns don’t kill people, black motherfuckers with guns kill people.
You see that on the news, you read that in the paper. 
Don’t take that shit, it’s my world, your world, we’re the ones that gonna shape her”[/color][/center]

[color=F9ACC1]“ZAY! YOU’RE GONNA BE LATE!”[/color]

A shrill voice cut through Isaiah’s daydream, almost causing him to stumble backwards over his textbooks. Steadying himself, Zay shook himself free of his fantasy and let his eyes fall upon the alarm clock on his bedside table. The wailing banshee downstairs was one hundred percent right he was going to be late! Scrambling around his room, the aspiring activist swiftly gathered some red and black clothes to stuff into his bag for the homecoming uniform before tossing it over his bare shoulder. As he prepared to exit, Isaiah picked an envelope up off his cluttered desk and stuffed it into his joggers pocket before leaving the room.

[color=F9ACC1]”Wooooooow, we get it Zay, you’ve been working out over the summer. Put a shirt on you whore.” [/color] [url=https://i.pinimg.com/originals/9b/90/48/9b9048cea9a6d8a2235dd127491d9e48.png]Peri[/url] was Isaiah’s older sister. The only daughter of his father Tony. She graduated the year prior but had yet to do anything with her life, claiming a gap year. Most days she worked the phones at their Dad’s bespoke furniture company and then spent the evenings and weekends in the company of who the hell knows? She was her own person and Zay wasn’t her keeper. [color=F9ACC1]“Who’re you trying to impress huh? My baby brother got a crush?[/color] She teased as she took a bite out of her toast.

Isaiah shook his head as he picked up his earbuds from the kitchen counter top, narrowly avoiding a piping hot butter splash from Peri’s breakfast; the girl had no spatial awareness. [color=83BF00]“My business is my business, Peri. Same as yours is yours. But I know you’re just going to keep probing. I’m on a health drive at the minute so I’m jogging to school. Nothing more to it than that. Which also means you can take my car to work, you know if you actually decide to go. I’m assuming both dads have already left?”[/color]

Peri pouted her painted plump lips. Zay knew her too well. She was going to ask for the car tonight anyway so this worked out in her favour. [color=F9ACC1]”Yas, Queen. Daddy Rich asked me to remind you to call…shit I forgot. What was that name?”[/color]

Sighing, Isaiah placed an earbud in as he looked at his older sister. [color=83BF00]“Montez. He wants me to call Montez. If you go in today, tell him I’ll do it when I get a chance. I’m booked up with tutoring and basketball and stuff. Don’t work too hard, Peri. Love you.”[/color] He popped the second bud into his ear and began to walk out of the house.

[color=F9ACC1]”Love you too, you fucking dingus. Go get laid! It’ll loosen you up!”[/color]

[url=https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=H1HdZFgR-aA&pp=ygUEMnBhYw%3D%3D]2Pac’s banger[/url] played in Zay’s ear as he ran down and out of his street and towards the school. As the heat in his body began to rise and the thin layer of sweat began to form, Isaiah had a thousand and one things on his mind. This was not unusual for him but normally those thoughts were centred around his grades and school. Recently though, there’s been a shift in his mentality. 

Like the song was saying, all eyes were on him. When it came to his two dads, Tony and Richie, they had a lot of expectation on Zay and with graduation round the corner there was no doubt they would be piling on the pressure. They wouldn’t mean to, they weren’t troublesome parents by any means, in fact they were incredibly supportive of anything Zay did. Yet his grades were some of the highest in his class and his politically charged persona embodied Ivy League like nobody else. They wanted him to be a valedictorian; Isaiah meanwhile, wasn’t sure he wanted that. 

Then there was the thing Peri said about having a crush. She wasn’t exactly wrong. For the last three years, Zay had very much flown under the radar of all the social cliques and houses. He was nice enough for everyone to get along with but not bold enough for anyone to take notice of. He had dedicated himself to his classes, his extracurriculars like teaching the ASL class, tutoring and basketball. It was cliche but Isaiah hadn’t really had the true high school experience of hooking up, dating, falling in love, having your heart broken or making what one could consider a true friend. This year he wanted to change that. This year he wanted his cake and to eat it too. He wanted to get the grades, get his petitions signed and he wanted to be noticed, he wanted someone to see him, the real him from behind the clipboard. So he had been walking out and he had freshened up his style. It was a new year but it wasn't a new Isaiah, just the real one. 

As he rounded a corner, Zay narrowly avoided a woman with a child. He nodded politely in apology before carrying on his run. Seeing her, it reminded him of the biggest challenge on his mind, the one that felt like a noose around his neck, waiting to hang him for treason. The letter in his pocket, a note which arrived several weeks into the summer vacation from a man called Montez Bell; Isaiah’s birth father, or so he claimed. Zay had only ever met one member of his blood family and that was his mothers mother, Granny Hobbs, whom he still visited to this day. He knew next to nothing about his father, Granny wouldn’t share much, just his name. 

Obviously as a child of adoption, there were huge parts of Zay that wanted to teach out, connect with the man and find out answers to all the questions he has had since he was six years old and his dads sat him down to tell him the real truth about his origins. Then there was the other part of him that didn't want to know. He had a good thing going, two Dads that loved him, a sister that loved him and yet curiosity was eating away at his gut like a disease. Identity. He wanted to know what his was; there had to be more to Isaiah than even he knew. Speaking to his father could be a way to find out. 

Isaiah arrived in the parking lot with a decent amount of time to spare. He glanced up at the monster that was Beverly Hills High, his bare chest heaving as he caught his breath. He was getting some stares and looks but that was fine; it was what he wanted. New year, real me. He waved at an approaching vehicle which he knew contained the Hive Five for no other reason than being polite. Zay then quickly made a swift beeline to a bathroom to switch into his actual wear for the day which was a pair of black jeans and a white polo with a thin black cardigan with red trimmings. No one could say Isaiah wasn’t showing his school spirit. He left the bathroom with his bag and made his way towards his homeroom, it was time to quiet the overpowering and overwhelming noise in his head and focus. 

Easier said than done.

Most of the kids in his class he had known for years, there were none that he could really say he had gotten close to. For a long time he had convinced himself it was because they wouldn’t let him in. In actuality, the more likely scenario was that Zay wouldn’t let them in. He was too guarded, too tightly wound. All that mattered was proving to his parents that he was worth the chance they had taken on him. Now he was going in with a fresh mind set and a new purpose. This year wasn’t going to be different. This year was going to be the best ever. 

He was gonna graduate.
He was going to make friends.
Maybe he was even going to find love?
All that was for sure was that nothing was for sure.

And for Isaiah, that was fucking terrifying.