Life is a vast road of twist and turns. It is composed of success and failure. One is always laboring on having the ball of life fall in their court, never actually knowing if and what one should do with that ball. With life, one has to first comprehend that days will not always be dark, but they will not always presume light either. Knowing this pertinent knowledge, one must learn the skill of adaptation and settlement. That means adapting to the darkness in order to settle in the light.

Curls of midnight, skin of sweet chocolate. Eyes of almond, build of a goddess; so I remind myself each day I glance into the mirror. Mind ahead of my years, brains beyond belief; so I like to acclaim. Wonderful, dashing, astounding among her peers; so my restless persona continues to compliment. Confidence is an understatement of what I own. Dauntless, beautifully amazing, an iconoclast to those who degrade me. I am Amari Nicole Jackson.

Oh and yes, it is nice to meet me.

"AJ... Hello... Earth to little black girl in the prairie!" A miffed voice calls from behind me, unfortunately breaking my fantasy.

Unfortunately for them that is.

"What, what, what?! God, I know you saw me looking in the mirror. Stop being so needy" I playfully seethe, smirking at the playful pecan daggers.

Six foot two, build of your average basketball player. Eyes a playful shade of pecan. Skin, a smooth shade of caramel. Laughter like no other. Childish in ways, serious in none. That's my friend, the only person I can happily acclaim as the pain in my back side; Cadence Brandon James.

We've been friends since the beginning of the horrid and beautifully expected senior year. How we met, is a long overdrawn story about a cry over spilled milk-literally. The boy maybe can handle a ball, but he just can't manage to keep is chocolate milk cartoon on his tray. Yet even still, here we are spilt milk and four months later; close friends.

Even as close friends, Cadence knows when and when not to heckle my fantasies. Especially not when he isn't supposed to be in my art class in the first place. But being who he is, Cadence slips into my class and slips me out of my thoughts. How rude.

"Now you're going to draw attention to us-to me! Stop being loud! Geez!" He playfully hisses, glancing over my easel to check for any witnesses.

Once he turns back to me I cross my arms over my chest dramatically and give him a once over. I'm not too great with taking orders from anyone around my age. Even if this "anyone" is a eighteen year old Cadence. He knows all too well of this.

Sighing heavily, he apologizes and glances around once more, revving my sudden irritation. If he wouldn't have slipped into here in the first place, he wouldn't have to glance around for my art trencher; Mr. Manning. Although he has good reason to. Mr. Manning is a cold stone, no nonsense rock. He hates corruption and by the look of things when we first were introduced to him, he hates children more.

Even still, Cadence shouldn't have came here only to look over his shoulder every five seconds. Which is still working my nerves.

"You don't tell me what to do! First of all! Okay? Now, what do you want?" I demand, my hot-headed temper flaring as the seconds pass.

Seemingly amused by my irritation, Cadence flashes me a smile and stuffs his hands into his pockets. Digging into his Levi trousers with little annoying grunting sound effects, he smiles an innocent smile and reveals his palms. In each of his disgustingly ashy palms lies a crumpled five dollar bill in the right palm and another crumpled paper ball in the other.

Unable to figure out the stupidity of this boy (as usual) I glance at him and wait, impatiently if I might add, for him to construe.

"Well, I forgot to give you your five dollars from last week, you know when you won the bet about Lebron leaving the Heat? And uh, yeah this is your notes from pre-cal. So yeah enjoy." He chuckles, carefully slipping the items into my palms.

I didn't even know my palms were open, but he's fortunate that they are. He snuck in my art class-Mr.Manning's class just to give me overdue money and balled up notes? How ridiculous. How Cadence. Yes, he is his own definition of stupid.

"Ca-"

"James? James is that you? If you don't get out of my classroom I will have principal Hodge escort you our herself!" Mr. Manning screeches from the other side of the classroom.

The once oblivious students now all glance over at Cadence and I before bursting into cackles and shaking their heads. Cadence isn't much of a trouble maker, but that doesn't mean trouble doesn't make him.

I tried to tell him. I didn't, but I did.

Quickly turning away, Cadence flashes a goofy smile, apparently trying to play off his embarrassment; epic fail. All the while Mr. Manning eyes him viciously and watches as Cadence stumbles up front. Before nearing the door, he tries to offer an apology but Mr. Manning grumbles lowly before violently shoving Cadence out of the classroom.

Cackles are still being disbursed into the classroom, filling the walls with the amusement of the recent scene. But those giggles and chuckles don't live long. Once Mr. Manning snaps his head around, all fall silent. It's that stare.

He's nearly the only ivory instructor here, and shade to the misinterpretation of how ivory instructors are on movies, he actually puts fear in our hearts. The fear that forces you to sit up straight and quickly become acquaintance with proper manners. He's just that scary.

Sadly for me, I'm about to be engulfed with that fear.

"Jackson.... I hope you like cleaning easels as much as you like musing over stupidity. You have detention, and no after school. I want you at lunch. Today" He demands, not giving me another glance before grumbling lowly and returning to his desk, dismissing future conversation.

A few onlookers glance at me, silently offering their condolences. I may not be dying, but a whole hour and a half with Mr. Manning during lunch, is so close to it. Neither I nor my stomach are happy about this one.

Appreciating the sorrowful offers, I return my gaze on my empty canvas and sigh heavily.

Thank you, Cadence.

The smell of of steamed broccoli, soya sauce, and what I presume is foreign chicken teases my nostrils. As promised-forced, I dragged myself back to Mr. Manning's room exactly after fifth period. Of course when I entered, Mr. Manning had already written instructions on the whiteboard for today's detention sentence. He also added a note that excused him for lunch. Just great.

Even though he popped in out of the classroom to retrieve his lunch, I'm sure he's around, waiting on me to screw up. I may not be sweet little Susie, but I'd appreciate if he would at least allow me to go grab a tray of lunch before coming here. It's only the respectably-humane thing to do. But, who am I kidding, it's Mr. Cold-hearted Manning; he could care less.

Glancing over the long list of duties, written in terrible, illegible chicken scratch, I search for a simple task. That was a waste. Mr. Manning doesn't even know the meaning of "simple". Come to think of it, that man may just be from another planet. Some undercover alien sent to earth to ruin the lives of high-school students and torment them with his malevolent approach to society.

Yup, that sounds about accurate.

Settling on a duty that will consist of me dipping my hands in a unknown "detergent" solution, I sigh and begin the task of cleaning up the easels. Starting with the first row, I roll up the sleeves of my letterman jacket and inhale deeply before taking the fortunately, pre-prepared bucket of "the unknown". Daring myself to dip my hands into the bucket, I try not to gag at the smell of molding sponges and whatever this school creates.

Not how I imagine spending my lunch period.

Cursing myself for getting into this predicament, I violently run the plush sponge against the leg of the easel. With all of my self pity and self scolding, the thought of Cadence actually being the real perpetrator crosses my mind.

Oh how I can't stand that boy.

He's should be here as well. If I had things my way, he'd be on the floor wriggling his fingers through dead nats and smelly detergent water, not me.but alas, here I am, taking the fall for two.

"AJ? Girl, why are you in here?" A voice I know all to well calls from the door frame.

I sigh, relieved for a distraction. Tossing the dirty sponge carelessly into the bucket, I turn around and try to not to scratch my forehead that now has a sudden itch. Great, I might walk away with a rash because of detention. If so, I'm suing.

"Man.. Mister Manning crusty butt had his tidy whities' up his ass" I scuff, rolling my eyes at the mention of my situation.

Laylah Roberts. A light in complexion, tough on homework. A girl I've known since fifth grade. An Afro girl with a more than less flower power attitude. She takes prisoners and eats them too, but even still she's harmless. My oxymoron. I can't live without her. She's definitely more sane than Cadence and therefore keeps me sane to deal with a thing like Cadence.

We are a trio, but a duo when it's just her and I. She's like my twin, a long lost sister of some sort. Cliche stuff like that. And just like today, she's always there to be a greatly appreciated distraction.

I love this girl.

"That man always does! I swear if he had a wife, he'd be a lot nicer.. She agrees, shaking her head at the thought.

Shrugging off whatever was in her head for a quiet three seconds, she strolls over to me and instantaneously screws up her face in distaste. Oh yeah, even physically she's brutally honest. That's another reason why I love her. She's not laconic, but isn't too verbose either. She speaks with her actions, and boy her actions speak loud volumes.

"Girl, you stinky. That's not cute, not at all" She expresses her distaste, adding gestures for emphasis.

I roll my eyes, ignoring her dramatics.

"Well unless you're going to help me, I advise you to hush" I warn.

In all seriousness, I wouldn't mind a little help. But knowing Laylah, that isn't going to happen. She loves me, just not that much. I don't blame her. Moral support will have to suffice.

"Ever heard of a phrase, mess up, clean up? Well I didn't mess up anything and won't be cleaning up anything. But, I say this with love" She smiles, gushing her last part with air kisses.

I glare at her playfully, flicking a beautiful middle finger in her direction before deciding I had a log enough break and should get back to work.

"Have you seen Cadence? I heard Mister Manning almost threw the boy through the lockers!" Laylah exclaims after a long silence.

Mind you, it was a peaceful silence.

I continue working on my current easel, trying not to think about the one who landed me here. That idiot.

Of course Laylah doesn't accept my silence, so she walks around, humming aloud. This is a often used tactic of hers to grab my attention. It doesn't ways work, but when it does I nearly want to snap her neck afterwards.

"Laylah!" I screech after nearly five minutes of that annoying humming.

She glances away from the window she was glancing out of, turning her gaze on me. I swear I caught the knowing smirk on her face before it quickly transformed into a innocent smile. She thinks she's slick, but I know her too well. She's like a book to me at this point. It's scary, but I know the move she'll make before she even thinks of it.

Okay, maybe I'm just creepy.

Giggling at my evident agile reaction to her humming, she shrugs her shoulders and walks over to me. I swear the girl doesn't stop.

"Laylah if you do-"

"Hello! I heard that um a little Miss Jackson was in some need for fuel..." A familiar voice chimes, from behind us.

Yay, yet another headache; Cadence James.

Laylah giggles along with Cadence's outburst and walks over to him. All the while I watch, seething because he's the reason I'm starving. He better have brought compensation for the stunt he pulled this morning. You're not supposed to play with a teenage girl and her stomach. It's not cool.

"So you just not gonna acknowledge me? I'll take this shit right back to McDonalds and get my refund! Shoot... Being ungrateful and shit..." He snaps, his tone playful.

All the while he made his argument, Laylah slipped the paper bag from his grasp and snickered as she tip-toes away. I stifle a few snickers myself, witnessing the whole scheme as Cadence continued to rant onward about depreciation and what not. The boy is a drama queen.

Once I'm sure Cadence is done ranting, I return my gaze on him as he crossed. The classroom to join me at the easel I'm supposed to be working on. I watch him carefully. Cadence is a sneaky one, you never know what to expect from him.

When he pauses and glances over at Laylah who is just beginning to search the contents of the bag, I couldn't help but burst into giggles. Something told me the boy wasn't too oblivious to the sneaky Laylah. The kid isn't a complete idiot.

"Girl, if you don't bring that bag over here which yo' crazy-"

"Say it! I dare you to! Punk, you only brought a McChicken anyways. Where's the fries? Idiot" Laylah retorts, rolling her eyes as a sign of dismissal of further excuses.

My giggles fluke an octave as I watch the madness unfold. I love these two, they are true characters. They are what I would call real reality television.

Although they seemingly bump heads a lot, I know it's all out of love. We all just have that typical bind by sociology problems bond. It's belligerency at its best.

"Okay, okay. Weapons away. Let's use normal language. You guys are freaking sailors!" I intervene between giggles.

Both exchange a quick glare before turning towards me. Cadence releases air through gritted teeth and passes me the paper bag he retrieved from Laylah.

"It's just a sandwich. I kind of got carried away with my food. And what can I say. I'm a big boy" He chuckles, glaring back at Laylah when she sucks her teeth.

I shake my head. I would love to argue and protest about him bringing just a sandwich, but my stomach is howling to the moon and I can't argue with a growling stomach.

Quickly I make careless disposal of the McDonalds paper bag. Upon reaching the heavenly wrapper of the infamous McChicken, I nearly rip it to shreds before wolfing it down in nearly three bites.

That definitely hit the spot.

After wiping the corners of my mouth blindly I glance up with the feeling of eyes focused on me. Slowly I glance up and sure enough, Cadence and Laylah are glancing at me as if I am a maniac of some sort. I roll my eyes and wave them off. They obviously don't understand how hungry I was.

"Damn, girl. Maybe I shouldn't have ate your fries.." Cadence chuckles, earning yet another eye roll from me.

I swear between him and Laylah I'll turn in for early permanent retirement.

"Idiot... You see now the girl is starving. My poor friend. I might have a veggie burger in my locker. You want it?" She offers, genuinely frowning.

"Laylah!" I snap, furrowing my eyebrows in irriration.

She had a sandwich this entire time that I've been moping about be hungry? That's not cool, not at all. These two are nothing, but headaches.

She opens her mouth to seemingly defend herself, but is quickly silenced by the fear itself. Great, Mr. Manning is back. He's definitely going to fry us. I've only cleaned three easels and these two headaches are here.

Can my day get any worse?

"James, Roberts, Jackson..." Mr. Manning roll calls, calmly claiming his seat at his wooden desk.

"Yes?" We all answer in terrible unison.

Still remaining calm he glances around at each of us through his eyelids before replaying.

"Detention for tomorrow..." He instructs, indicating a end to the conversation once he glances at the papers on his desk.

Cadence and Laylah exchange glances before turning to me. Silently we agree to take tomorrow's detention in stride. We obviously don't have a choice. I'm actually relieved that is our only punishment.

Gathering my trash and belongings, I join Cadence and Laylah at the door before we disburse into our little group
Of friends. Cadence with a few of his guy friends and Laylah and I with a few of our gal pals. All the while we walk, I can't help but to dread tomorrow.

In the trio I trust.