Golds and Goals

A man casually strolls down an empty university hallway. He wears a red oversized sweatsuit. A pin drop could be heard. Classes are in session. The walls are cluttered with Summer and motivational posters. Finals week is right around the corner. The man approaches an ajar door to the left. The professor can be heard scolding the classroom.

“You mean to tell me that the exam is in three days and none of you remember what family the Orca belongs to?” the professor shouts.

Silence briefly fills the air again.

“Yes, Gabby?” the professor says.

“Isn’t it in the name already? An Orca, A.K.A. Killer Whale belongs to the whale fam-”

The man enters the classroom, and everyone freezes and stares as if they’ve seen a ghost. He strolls emotionlessly to his vacant seat in the front row. The teacher picks up the attendance roster and marks in pencil.

“Ja- James, y- you’re here,” the professor stammers.

James smiles and the glaring sun from the nearby windows bounce off his mouth full of gold grills and onto the board. The board reads, “12 days till Graduation!”

“Yes, sir. I couldn’t take anymore virtual sessions,” James responds. “I can’t learn that way. And besides, seeing my mom like that is becoming more and more depressing.”

The professor’s face leaks empathy for James.

“How much more does she need for the operation?” The professor questions.

“A lot,” James answers as he rotates in his seat toward Gabby. “And by the way, Orcas belong to the dolphin family. They were only nicknamed killer whales because ancient sailors saw them prey on larger whales.”

James smiles and turns back to the professor who grins and nods excessively.

“Wow! That’s correct,” the professor exclaims. “Seems like someone’s been studying. You may have some competition for that award on graduation day, Gabby.”

Gabby looks down in disgust and flips through her notes. Out of nowhere, the static from the public address system hums. The hush of the class creates even greater anticipation. Then finally, the principal breaks the quietude.

“James Bain, please report to the principal’s office,” Principal Davis announces. “I repeat... James Bain, please report to the principal’s office.”

James calmly rises from his seat and walks to the cracked windows. He pries it open, hops out, and darts off the campus like a cheetah, disappearing into the busy street. The professor quickly erases something from the attendance roster. Moments later, Principal Davis and a male police officer barge into the classroom. They swiftly scan the room. A female security guard enters.

“Where is he?” Davis asks the professor. “Security believes to have seen him on campus a while ago.”

Confusion fills the professor’s face as he shrugs. The classmates are mute. The officer lowers his eyes in suspicion. He surveys the professor’s desk and picks up the attendance roster. Everyone’s name is marked present except James.

“Hm, that’s odd,” the officer says as he tosses the roster back onto the desk. “Sorry to interrupt.”

The officer fakes a smile before exiting the classroom. Principal Davis and the security guard leaves behind him and slams the door. They storm down the hallway. The security guard tiptoes to reach the officer’s ear.

“I know he was here,” the officer whispers. “House arrest violations will land him right back in prison if he keeps this up.”

James bursts through the door and quickly locks it. He sighs and dumps his backpack on the couch. A laptop, opened snacks, a dismantled ankle monitor, and a chrome Smith and Wesson handgun sits atop the table. James walks into a dark room and flips on the light. An elderly woman snores in bed. A ton of medical equipment decorates the room. It sounds just like an emergency room. James opens a nearby cabinet and stares at countless empty pill bottles. A soft wind enters from the open window and blows one of the bottles out of the cabinet. It crashes onto the floor. The woman’s eyes crack open. She releases a mumble.

“How was school?” She murmurs. “Did they come looking for you again? And I hope you still aren’t selling those drugs, son.”

James nods in disappointment.

“Mom, please don’t try to talk me out of it,” he pleads. “How else am I going to pay for that operation? I am doing what I must.”

James picks up the pill bottle, tosses it up and catches it. He heads for the door, but Mom halts him.

“I’ll come with you,” Mom says as she leans up and drags herself out of bed. “And let me drive this time. I’m tired of you treating me as if I’m disabled just because I have cancer.”

James sighs and forces a slight smile. He tosses Mom the car keys and she catches it with one hand.

Mom drives slow down the street. She is going 30 miles under the speed limit. A jogger runs past the car like it is in park. Traffic thickens behind them. Mom pulls into the pharmacy parking lot and turns into a parking spot. As they hop out the car, two men in a truck drive by them. The driver honks furiously at Mom.

“Get the hell off the road if you’re going to drive that slow, you retard!” The passenger shouts as he hangs out of the window.

Anger consumes James. He reaches for the gun hidden on his waist, but Mom stops him.

“Honey, let it go,” she begs. “Let’s just get what we came for. You don’t need to be in any more trouble.”

James swiftly pulls out his cellphone and hits the camera app. He zooms in and snaps a quick picture of the fleeing truck’s license plate. The driver flips the bird at them as he floors it. James’ eyes twitch as he watch them vanish into the traffic. He walks around the car and holds Mom's hand as they head for the entrance.

James shoves open the house door with Mom right behind him. He holds the door for her and gently guides her fully inside. He has a few plastic bags in his hand. James kicks the door shut then helps Mom to her bed. He tucks her and kisses her on the forehead. James moves to the cabinet and restocks the shelves with new pill bottles. Out of nowhere, Mom snores loudly and James nearly drops the last bottle but catches it. He looks back at her and smirks. He silently places the last bottle in then creeps out of the room.

James walks to his study desk where a blackboard hangs above. The header reads, “Goals.” The first goal is for him to make $30,000 for Mom’s surgery. The second one is to become Valedictorian at graduation. The third one is for him to secure an internship. He stares sadly at the board, then he nods as if he is motivating himself in his head the entire time. James struts over to his handgun and grabs it before exiting the house.

James cruises along the freeway. Reggae music blasts from the speakers. Suddenly, a truck zooms by him, nearly crashing into a car just ahead. The truck looks way too familiar. He remembers it from earlier at the pharmacy. James quickly floors it and closes the gap between them. He pulls out his phone and checks the photo gallery. Unfortunately, the license plate is no match. James decelerates and turns into the mall. He circles the parking lot to find a spot. Abruptly, tire screeches fill the parking lot. James looks around and notices a similar truck again. This time, he didn’t need the photo reference. There are two men in the car, and they flip off a nearby couple before speeding away. James didn’t even care about parking anymore. He zooms behind the truck and tails them for nearly an hour.

After miles and miles of driving, the men turn onto a pitch-black dirt road. James turns off his headlights and follows from a safe distance. The men pull up to a medium-sized shed that is lit by a single lamppost. James parks and observes from afar. The driver hops out with two duffel bags in one hand. He looks around suspiciously as he walks toward the shed. He has a cellphone to his ear.

“Packages delivered,” the man says. “Rendezvous with the others as soon as you collect it. And hurry - any slip ups and we’re all dead.”

The man hangs up. He opens the shed and tosses one bag upward, then the other. He quickly runs to the truck, hops in, and accelerates into the darkness.

James quietly hops out the car and stealthily moves through the grass like a preying lion. He draws his gun as he heads toward the shed. James yanks open the door and aims at... nothing. There is no bag in sight. He walks into the shed.

“What the-”

A bag drops on James' head and startles him. He looks up. A man on the ceiling stares down at him.

“You said the keyword!” he shouts.

James points the gun at him.

“Give me the other bag,” he demands.

“Who the hell are you?” the man yells. “I can’t do that. They’ll kill me if I do!”

James hears another truck in the distance. He impulsively shows his aggressive side.

“I’ll kill you if you don’t!” he shouts as he cocks the gun.

The man speedily drops the other bag and weeps softly. James grabs the bags and slams the door behind him. He dashes to his car and reverses behind a tree as soon as the second truck arrives. A man hops out and hurries to the shed door. He walks in.

“What the-” he says.

Nothing happens. He seems confused.

“I said WHAT THE-” the man roars.

Without a second thought, he pulls out his gun and aims it up at the ceiling.

"No, please," the man on the ceiling cries. "I can explai-"

A gun shot fires and both men in the shed fall to the ground. Moments later, the man from the ceiling sits up and stares at his body as if he’s surprised to be alive. He looks up at James, who is lowering his weapon, in disbelief.

“Ever played Grand Theft Auto Five?” James asks.

The man excessively nods his head in fear.

“You forget a thousand things every day,” James says. “Make sure this is one of them.”

James runs back to his car and a second shot rings off from the shed. He shakes his head and has a moment of silence for the man. James hops in the car and flips on the headlights. The man stands in the front of the car with a bloody face. He waves the man's gun in his hand.

“I shot him again!” the man screamed. “He was going to kill me. Thanks for saving me, but I’m going to die regardle-”

The man blasts himself in the head and his body plummets to the ground. James quickly puts the car in gear and escapes the scene.

James sits on his couch and slowly opens one of the duffel bags. His eyes widen. Thousands of dollars sit neatly and beautifully in the bag. He smiles from ear to ear and sends up a silent prayer of thanks. He walks over to his blackboard and picks up a marker. He marks off the financial goal then scoffs in satisfaction.

James sits in class the following morning. Everything seems to be going perfect until the P.A. system statics again. James rises from his chair and heads for the window when the door quickly opens. The principal steps into the room and stops James in his tracks.

“Mr. Bain, come with me,” Principal Davis orders.

James’ mouth drops as he turns around and sees Principal Davis.

Principal Davis and James sit in his office. James looks terrified.

“Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble… today,” Davis says. “You’re not supposed to be within 10 feet of this campus, but I didn’t call the cops this time."

James relaxes a tad bit and sinks down into the chair. Principal Davis leans in.

"I just wanted to inform you that you were selected to be the valedictorian this year," he reveals.

James’ eyes start to sweat. He dabs his pupils dry with his shirt sleeve.

Principal Davis rises and extends a handshake.

“I was wrong about you, son,” Davis says. “I guess ex-cons can change. Congratulations.”

James stands and stares at Principal Davis. The excess tears blur his vision. Davis walks around the table and hugs James tightly. It seems as if a boulder has been taken off his shoulders as he lets it all out. His tears were finally for something good. Principal Davis catches an escaping tear from his own eye then squeezes James even tighter.

James faces his blackboard yet again. His eyes are bloodshot red as if he’s been crying for hours. He marks off his second goal with a huge smile on his face, then stares at his final goal to obtain an internship.

Balloons, horns, and screaming students, friends, and family members pile the auditorium for commencement. Sadly, James’ mom is nowhere in sight. He scans hundreds of heads from the foot of the stage and none of them match Mom’s. An alumnus calls him to the stage.

“And now our valedictorian… James Bain,” he says.

James snaps back into reality as the auditorium roars and celebrates him. He reluctantly walks onto the stage and toward the podium. He clears his throat into the microphone.

“Thank you everyone,” he says. “I know most of you would never admit it, but a lot of you guys look down on me because of my past mistakes. But people can change. Let this be a lesson for everyone today... don’t judge a book by its cover."

James turns and walks away from the podium but quickly runs back.

"Oh, and just because I got a lot o’ golds... don’t mean I don’t got a lot o’ goals,” James says confidently. "Thank you."

James forces a smile at the crowd then walks off the stage. The entire crowd is speechless.

After singing a few hymns, Principal Davis walks over to the table of diplomas. He picks up the first three. The crowd begins to frenzy.

“Brad Armstrong… Brandon Ash… James Bain,” Davis announces.

James hangs his head down as he slowly walks onto the stage. Suddenly, he hears a faint cheer in the crowd and glances up. It sounds oddly familiar. He tries to concentrate.

“Go James! Go James!” someone screams.

The shouts of everyone else drowns out the cheer. James inspects the crowd even closely. Out of nowhere, he notices Mom’s smile from the center of the thick crowd. She fights her way through to the foot of the stage, hopping and screaming her son’s name. A priceless smile grows on James’ face, and he proudly accepts his diploma from Principal Davis. He hugs James tightly.

“Oh, and by the way, you and Gabby both landed summer internships with the school,” he says in James' ear. “Congrats once again. You beat the odds."

The security guard and police officer claps proudly in the crowd, too. James holds up his diploma to the masses and they go insane. He soaks it in for a while. James marches off the stage, ex-con, and all, as the newest valedictorian of his great alma mater and breaks down in tears in Mom’s arms.