Weight of the World: Chapter One

Tourist Trap
The after school rush was much smaller than usual. A blessing for the smaller students and underclassmen, definitely, but for some people getting out of school was only half the battle.

And unfortunately, I'm one of those people.

My mother has had me at the same private school system since I could use the bathroom properly - something that most of my classmates still can't do, judging by how many of them duck into the bathrooms and hide for a few hours. As far as uniforms go, they were once pretty lenient but after a pep rally involving two girls and a confused chicken, we were forced into purple plaid skirts, khakis, white button-ups and old school brown loafers. I welcomed the change because now I wouldn't have to stare at the gross stomachs of my classmates, but it seemed I was the only one who did.

Living in New Orleans has always been easy and relatively exciting. After all, the city is nicknamed "The Big Easy", right?

Anyway,after avoiding the bum rush out of school it was time to go home. Normally this was a fairly difficult task except on certain days - Marti Gras, for example. God, Marti Gras was the worst. So many uncultured, untalented people in one area nearly made me sick to my stomach.

Er, anyway.

After leaving school grounds I would walk a few blocks, make a few turns and eventually arrive on the street that forks from my house. My mother and I lived in a small converted house, once a hotel room, just above her restauraunt, The Naiad. It was sort of a strange name, but I was happy to be known as the owner's daughter.

This particular day, walking down a sparsely populated street, I had nearly forgotten that this was one of the worst days to be out on the streets. And for good reason!

It was February 13th. More specifically, it was Friday the 13th. Not only were tourists coming in to spend Valentine's Day here, there would also be strange tales to tell the travelers that would undoubtedly scare them no matter how stupid they were - simply because they're tourists.

I hated tourists. They took up space, were loud and obnoxious, ruined nearly evrything. But I had to act polite and nice of course - my mom did run a popular buffet. And as a cook and waitress, I had to treat them with respect. Even if they came to greet me with bits of my fresh po-boys still caught in their teeth.

I rounded the corner onto my street and had to do a double take. The entire road was blocked off by large barriers as though they were renovating - but no, this was worse. People covered every square inch of the road and sidewalks, blocking stores and windows. Dull chatter rose to the high heavens along with the screaming of bored children.

I tried to stick to the store fronts, expertly evading the incoming entrepreneurs who attempted to sell me mundane and stupid objects - for example, a young man in a suit attempted to stop me and sell me a mirror, which he called the "Reflectomatic". When I asked him what was so special about it, he made a dip dive backwards to find new prey.

Working in the field gave me that kind of an advantage, I guessed.

Somewhere along the way, underneath the awning of a store I couldn't recall ever seeing, I was confronted by two burly looking gentlemen with rough looking facial features. They almost seemed to be switching their expression, the way their faces twitched unnaturally. It worried me at first, but I didn't speak, hoping I could just pass them.

Finally, the left one spoke.

"Hello, young lady." He said, his voice thick and almost choked sounding, The muscles in his throat jumped rather prominently, I noted. It was disgusting.

"We'd like to offer you the chance at this once in a lifetime deal." The second added, his throat jumping much like his brother's. From the briefcase at his side came a necklace, a deep emerald withsapphire flecks scattered about the gem. It was beautiful, almost oceanic. The pendant holing it was a deep bronze color, free from wear or tear.

"We've been looking to get rid of it for some time now." The first man explained, touching his neck awkwardly, as though he knew what I was ogling at. "The jeweler is closed for today, so we thought we might as well give it to someone else."

He gripped the chain tight in his hands and held it out to me. The dull roar of society fazed out - it was just me and them. Me, the men, and the beautiful pendant. Looking into it, I noticed the top beginning to take on a beautiful red-purple hue, my faovrite in fact.

I couldn't say no to a free necklace, right?

But before I could reach out for the locket, someone grabbed my shoulder from behind. I shook out of my paralyzed state and turned to see someone who was very, very foreign to me.

He was tanned despite the weather, which was mostly gloomy due to the time of year, with curled black locks that stuck to his head as though he was fresh from a shower. He wore a red-orange Hawaiian shirt - something oddly tourist - and classic bermuda shorts, along with the long loathed socks and sandals combo. There was a string of shells around his neck, along with a particularly large conch shell that was almost as big as my fist.

"I'm sorry, but we're going to have to cut this a little short, Ms. McAdams," He said, pulling my shoulder back roughly to face the door. "Dad wants you in uniform right now. He says loitering and back alley deals are scaring away potential customers."

I was too frightened suddenly, as though the sudden pull was a current of electricity, and numbly I moved to the door.

"McAdams?" One of the men said as I entered the store, the boypushing me along. "That can't.......we're looking for Ramona Waverly, you dunce!" I could hear a slap as the door shut behind us.