His Eyes are Open

His Eyes are Open

Jamaal Zindi

“Get the book.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cus I said so.”

“I promise you bro, it’s genuinely not as bad as you think it is.”

“I don’t care, it’s way out of my budget too. Check the price!”

A slim finger pointed at a small rectangle of card dangling from a box.

“Fine. You’re genuinely so silly Andrew.”

“You believe what you want, Alex. I’m just smart. And I haven’t had much money since my mother passed, you know.”

Andrew was a 14 year old boy that didn’t do too well in school. His grades were just barely what they were supposed to be and his lack of revision would almost definitely lead to him failing.

“Oh. Yeah.” Alex replied awkwardly. In response, he took this as their cue to leave the shop.

“We need to get to school, you know.” Alex said. Andrew nodded.

“Bro, I’m telling you to hurry up!” said Alex, rolling his eyes at Andrew.

Andrew jokingly punched him in the arm, and the two began their walk to school.

The pavement underneath their feet was jagged and broken, having tiles building up, almost like a staircase.

As soon as both of their small feet had stepped foot onto the school grounds, a long, slender arm blocked them on their way into the building. This strange arm stepped out from behind the gates, revealing a tall, stern face dressed in a spotless brown suit. The old man's face was riddled with wrinkles and his resting face was close to a frown.

“Oh my day-” 

“Before you say something, Alexander, may you tell me what time it is?” The old man inquired.

“It’s 8:57 sir.” Alex replied obediently, keeping his face nowhere but the ground.

“Very good. Andrew. What time does form registration start?”

“8:50, sir.” Andrew said this with confidence all while maintaining eye contact with the man that blocked their path.

“Good. So I will see you in the library afterschool Andrew, and your friend here will be happy to spend his time in my classroom. Okay?”

The two said nothing.

The old man lowered his arm and gave each one of the boys a dirty glare, before they ran to their form class. By the time Alex had reached the top floor (Andrew shortly behind him) his head was glossy with sweat and all efforts of using deodorant in the morning had become futile. The two entered the class like a comedy duo, their hair drooping and 10 minutes late.

“Well well well. I think you kn-”

“Yes, 8:30am, I know. I know. Gosh.” Alex fired back, gasping to gain his breath back.

After a long and tiring day at school, all Andre wanted to do was go home and sleep. Ever since his mother had died, he’d go home and throw his bag off of his donkey-back and crash onto the bed. His attendance mostly remained the same, but waking up in the morning became more of a difficulty.

Today, however, none of this was possible. Due to this petty detention, he’d have to sit in the school library for who knows how long and ponder over why being late is such a terrible thing…

“Welcome, Andrew. Welcome to detention. You can sit there young man, and think about why you constantly being late isn’t good enough for our school standards!”

Andrew sat down, silent as a corpse. He sunk his head down onto the table, using both of his arms as a pillow and immediately felt a wave of tiredness hit him. Just as he was about to shut his eyes, he felt a gentle tap on the back of his shoulder.

“You are tired. Even though I usually wouldn’t do this, I do feel a bit of sympathy. You can go pick up a book.” the old man said.

Andrew stood up and brushed his finger delicately along the rows and rows of stories. By the end of one collection the tip of his finger had gone grey with dust. His finger traces rows and rows and rows but to no avail, until he remembered the book that Alex had recommended he buy earlier that day.

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“Can you help me find this book?”

There Andrew sat, with the book that was incredibly overhyped by his peer. He flicked the page and put his head back down on a cold wooden table, outstretching his arm so he can read while resting. He flicked the page again. He yawns. He flicks the page again.

“Detentions over young man. You can go home.”

“Already, sir?”

“It’s been 50 minutes.”

Andrew looked down at the book, confused, and realised he’s halfway through the 42nd page... He then checked the amount of pages in the book. 652. 

“Thank you sir.”

On the walk home, Andrew began to wonder the reason as to why he was so invested in that book. When he flicked through each of the pages, he felt like time had no concept whatsoever, and almost like he was absorbed into a land of his own where he was in control of how long he stayed there. 

“I wanna buy that book.”  the boy muttered. Just as he said this, he turned his head to his right and saw an off licence.

The vibrating alarm beside Andrew’s bedside unrelentlessly shook about on the desk, knocking things about onto the floor. The boy shot up to slam down the snooze button on the clock, and rose himself out of the bed and into the bathroom.

By 7:30am, he was out of the house and starting his trek back to the off licence.

“Are you ready to start work young man?”

“Yes. How much do I get paid?”

“£4.00 an hour. Is that good enough for you?”

The book was only 10 pound, so 3 sessions would leave him with a book and £2 to spare.

“It’s good sir. Thank you. May I use your bike to deliver?”

“Sure. Do good, kid.”

Andrew collected the newspapers from the shop owner's office and launched them into the basket in front of his bike. The weather was cold and sharp and at times pierced his large earlobes, making them flare red. Despite this, the boy was dedicated to get what he needed. He travelled from house to house, only occasionally making conversation with the people that he delivered to, and rushed to school using the boss's bike. This was quite good for Andrew as it ensured that he didn’t get to school late but also allowed him to have a source of money. Only downside was that he couldn’t talk to Alex on his way to school, which he was kind of willing to sacrifice temporarily.

By lunchtime, he would be rushing to get a seat in the school library just so he can read the book. An hour would pass and he’d hear the bell ring, signalling that an hour had gone.

By the second day of this, Alex had come to check up on him.

“Bro, are you okay?” he said, one eyebrow raised.

“Yeah. I'm fine.”

“You haven’t eaten lunch at school for two days in a row… Are you sure?”

“Yes, Alex. I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Alex submitted to him, even though he was sure that something was wrong with Andrew. “Just checking up on you, you know.”

Andrew cycled to the off licence in solidarity, his mind filled with nothing but that book he had been reading.

6:30am. He was going to be late! He didn’t bother combing his hair, but brushed his teeth and showered, and rushed his clothes on. He grabbed an expired piece of bread from the breadbin and gently shut the door behind him. He lightly jogged to the off licence for his final day on the job, grabbed the bike without greeting as well as the papers, and rushed off. Today he went at speeds down the road like he never had before. He swerved in between lanes just to get where he needed to as quickly as he could, and by 8:40 his job was done. He was very fortunate that there wasn’t that old man guarding at 8:51am, but he didn’t really care about getting detentions, as long as it meant he’d be allowed to read.

The final bell for the day rang. Andrew ran past Alex in the hallway to the main gate, lept into the air and onto the shop owner’s bike, and pedalled as fast as he could to the shop.

“Well done boy. Here’s your £4.” he handed the money to the eager boy.

“You’ve been doing very well and made many people happy. See you tom-” he looked behind him. Andrew was no longer behind him, and had chucked his bike onto the floor and was sprinting down the road.

“12 pounds!!!” Andrew screamed, running towards the bookshop. He passed a few people in his school on the way, but that didn’t concern him whatsoever.

He flung the shop's door open and looked for the book. 

“Just this please.” Andrews quickly says.

“Okay. That’ll be te-” 

10 pound in coins is chucked onto the counter. Andrew looked up at the person behind the counter with an urgency.

“Okay… Have a nice day!”

With the book in his hand, Andrew feels as if nothing could separate him from that book. The best, most interesting, most perplexing time waster that the earth could spit up and conjure…

By the time he had lifted his head up he was already walking towards his front door.

5:30am. No alarm on this day, but he’s woken up for the sole purpose of reading. Andrew shot out of bed like a spring and immediately threw his hand onto the book and stuck his face, reading and processing every word in his vision. He did this while brushing his teeth, while eating.

“Dad?”

“Yes, son?”

“Can you drive me to school today?”

“Sure. You’ve been reading that book like crazy, haven’t you?”

No reply from Andrew other than the flick of a page.

It was another lunchtime in the library. However, this time, Andrew felt nothing but pure bliss. He put his foot onto the last step leading to the door and reached for the book stuffed in the pocket of his bag, ripped it out and simultaneously forced his eyes into the book all while getting himself a seat. 

Flick of the page. Flick of the page. An abrupt finger taps his shoulder. Flick of the page. The tapping is becoming more vigorous. Andrew is then forced to put his book down and look up at who is tapping him.

“Bro, we need to talk. Come with me.”

“Alex, can’t we just do that here.”

“No. Now.” Alex demands, and he stomps his way out of the library.

Andrew kisses his teeth and sulkily follows him out of the door, dragging his feet by the step. Alex is long in front of him by now, charging with anger through the isolated corridors with his long legs. And then, he comes to a stop.

“You’ve been staying away from me for almost 4 days now. What’s up? Is it cause of that book?”

“No. I’ve just been doing stuff.”

“Don’t think like I’m an idiot. You even avoid me at lunch. When you see me, you purposefully stay away, or you look at me and go the other direction. Why?”

“I don’t wanna argue, Alex.” Andrew fires back, being dismissive of how he thinks he feels.

“I don’t care. You’re addicted to that book. You need help!”

Alex continues his walk down the hallway and by the time he reaches the stairs, Andrew still doesn’t follow. He stands there, exactly where he stood when he got howled at by his closest friend.

5:30am. He shot up as soon as the clock struck that specific time. He rose himself out of bed. Brushes his teeth holding the book. Showers, keeping the book out of range of the water but still reading. Changed into his school clothes reading. Ate his breakfast reading.

“Son, put down that book for a minute please… You’ve been reading it almost all night and ever since I’ve seen you this morning!”

Andrew didn't reply and left the house at 8:10 on the dot.

One step onto the concrete. Flick of the page. One step. Flick. Flick. Flick. Mind for the car. Flick. Don’t stop… Keep reading. Don’t stop, you don’t need to stop…

The book propels itself into the air and so does the limp body of a 14 year old boy. They land parallel to each other, but still facing one another almost like they were true lovers.

Alex had a drop of sweating falling from his brow, nervous and anxious as to what to say to his best friend. He knew what he said the day before was wrong and out of order… You can’t say that to a person who’s just lost a mother, can you? 

Alex blinked and saw the sight.

His best friend, laying cold on the floor, blood on his face. Andrew’s cold blue eyes, facing the book, still reading, even in his death. Alex ambled over to him and was pushed away by paramedics from the body.

And then he looked at that book.