Numerous Story

“Pick a number,” said Cherish.

“What number?” Marquis asked.

“Any number,” she demanded, “any random number.”

“Stop playing games!” Marquis exclaimed. The wind blew her golden honey hair as her eyes tore into him. “Fine…twelve,” Marquis finally gave in. Cherish smiled,

“Marquis, Marquis. I always knew you were a fool. Twelve is just to big a number. It’s your given number, your numerous.” With that, she whipped around on the balls of her feet and took off.

“What?” Marquis asked to no one in particular.

“Yo Marquis! 12 minutes til lunch man,” said Dylan, his best friend, who was wearing his football jacket.

“Nah dude. Don’t feed into the crap that Cherish chick was talking bout,” said Marquis, “Dylan, bro it ain’t funny.” Dylan looked confused. Marquis turned and bumped into a blonde haired girl.

“Hey Marq,” she said giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Aye…’sup Monica.”

“Que pasa?” Monica asked.

“What? Yo you know I don’t speak that wala wala,” said Marquis.

“Whats wrong?” Monica repeated in English.

“Everything,” he sighed.

“Why what happed? Wait, damn. I have to call my mom in like 12 seconds.” Marquis’ head started reeling. H lost his balance and seemed to trip over his own feet. He fell to the floor, out cold.

“Woah man! You okay?” Asked Dylan.

“Yeah yeah,” Marquis replied, obviously shaken.

“You sure? You’ve been out for twelve minutes and you’re like blue.” Marquis looked in the mirror and his face had turned dark blue. He tried to calm down so his face would go back to normal and it did. Marquis’ pocket vibrated. He checked for his phone; it was Monica calling.

“Hello?”

“Marquis? Oh my heavens, you’re okay!”

“What’s wrong? You sound so…panicky.”

“My, my mom…was taken to the hospital twelve minutes ago.” She started sobbing.

“What? What happened?”

“…Twelve…stab…wounds. But I think…she’s gonna live.”

“WHAT?” Marquis shouted.

“Marquis, calm down please. Please,” Monica pleaded. She got no response. “Marquis? MARQUIS! Answer me dammit.”

“What?” Marquis shouted again.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“The curse…”

“Curse? What curse?”

“I didn’t apologize…”

“Marquis, you’re scarring me…Marquis? You there? Hello?” Her phone made the irritating beeping noise of a call being ended.

Marquis stormed out of the nurse’s office and found Cherish in the hall. “I am sorry, so sorry.”

“What?” Cherish responded.

“I’m sorry for being such an ass to you. I shouldn’t have overreacted when you told me how you felt.”

“Do you mean it?”

“Yes! Yes! I mean it,” Marquis dropped to his knees.

“You took something from me, that I can never get back.”

“Please just don’t let Monica’s mom die.”

“Fine. You’re forgiven. Her mom won’t die. But maybe she will…” Cherish said, evilly pondering the possibility. Marquis got up and ran to find Monica, hoping she hadn’t gone to the hospital yet.

“Monica! Monica!” But Monica didn’t hear him. He went to get her but he was too late. She fell to the floor. He looked in her eyes, but no one was there.

“Someone call for help,” a girl shouted. He looked around and saw it was Cherish standing at the other end of the hall. She looked at him, smiled, and blew him a kiss before walking away. Marquis started crying. He could hear Monica’s voice in the air conditioning breeze.

Don’t cry little Marquis, don’t cry little Marquis

She repeated the phrase twelve times before she left him forever.

Natalia Colon
Age 12, Grade 7
Bronx Charter School for Excellence
Silver Key

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