Two

Two-Hour Parking

by Sappho Su

It is another day at this big strange place where no one can find parking up the street, down the block, or around the corner. DING, DING, DING! The fake, wannabe old-school bell rings. The flashers shine a metallic-white light, awakening the deaf students with their bright glare, notifying them that it is indeed the end of the period. Students pour out of the classrooms and into the narrow hallways of Berkeley High School. The dings and flashes at 10:30 indicate the beginning of the second passing period, signaling car owners to scurry out to Martin Luther King Jr. Way, and move their “babies” into another slot on the street. Life within the cramped halls of BHS continues as the car owners race down the block to rescue their automobiles.

The talkative students chit-chat with their friends on their way to class. The slackers drag their bodies in the direction of their third period class, demonstrating the “cool” walk where they sway their stone-heavy feet down the halls, and arrive at their next class a few seconds after the tardy bell rings. The worst happens when careless individuals line up in the middle of the halls like unmovable islands in the middle of street intersections, blocking those who actually want to get to class on time. Knowing that these kids chill in the halls of the H-building and that they are probably in the Computer Partnership Academy small school, where their next class is just 10 steps away. Kaya, a senior, also known as the 6’2” BHS and CPA basketball star, just turned eighteen a few days ago, and got a car from his well-to-do family as a present. He hasn’t had a chance to drive the nice little coupe sports car around yet because of all the applications and financial aid packets he has been filling out in his spare time. Aside from these dull events, a more eventful part of his life takes place at the Jacket gym basketball practice. He convinces his parents to let him drive to school because of late practices. Rumors are going around that he got a full-ride scholarship to some school for basketball, but who knows if it’s true. Kaya has always been an idol to many students in the African-American community because of his academic accomplishments and successes on the court. His relatives and friends are very proud of him. However, the closest people are not always the friendliest...and Kaya found that out the hard way.

The vehicle Kaya drives is quite dissimilar because of its name and quality. He isn’t ready to dump the thing into the wild all-day parking zone, five blocks west of the campus in the secluded residential area. The notorious lot where cars get keyed, robbed, and even dented when the bumpers are parked too closely to one another. All these things happen to cars when students are at school, being good children. No, that’s just a myth, but a lot of times, students find that the further they park from school, the more damage gets done to their car. Kaya is not yet ready to release his baby into the wild, so he parks it in the two hour zone right outside school. He’s a smart kid, but often times his lazy way of life overrules the intelligent decisions he should make.

Every morning Kaya gets the spot in front of school, adjacent to campus on the east side of MLK Way, where cars are packed like sardines, bumper to bumper. At 8:25 in the morning, Kaya pulls up in front of this curb that leads into the campus. He rests his automobile behind the curb in the actual parking space on the street, and inches out a few feet every two hours, so that he will be able to hide the nasty chalk marks on his tires by rolling forward every two hours into the spot in front of the curb, instead of searching for a new space every time. His plan had worked for about 3 months, but once basketball season started, his routine became less effective.

One day when Kaya has zero period lab, which starts at 7:30, he finds his tires decorated with chalk marks and blotches when he comes back for the forgotten pieces of homework scattered on the floors of his backseat, before the wee hours of 8 o’clock, when the city of Berkeley officials begin their day. The situation is quite awkward, but he never thinks it over twice because of his overwhelming schedule.

Day after day, the meter maid beats him to the car before he moves it. He knows that the city of Berkeley is money-hungry, but the way they chalk his car does not make any sense. It seems as though a meter maid is hidden in the bushes with her binoculars, comes out once the coast is clear. Day after day Kaya gets parking tickets for parking in a two hour zone for only an hour and half. This is ridiculous. He goes to the city hall to file a complaint, but there is little a high school student can do to capture the attention of the almighty city workers.

Kaya picks up his teammate and longtime friend Shaka on the way to school every morning. Shaka doesn’t have a zero period but Kaya picks him up anyways, or else Shaka will have to walk in the heart of winter when it is cold and pouring. Shaka is often left alone in the car to nap or catch up on homework. There isn’t a problem because Shaka and Kaya have been close friends since their elementary school days. They established brotherly love, but unfortunately their lives drifted off into different directions in academics, athletics, and future goals when they reached high school. Kaya has always had familial support and headed in the right direction while doing his best, but Shaka’s single mother, who works around the clock to support his three brothers and six sisters, is unable to tend to Shaka’s needs. Instead, as the oldest kid in the family, Shaka has to take care of his own needs as well as those of his siblings. As different as they are now, their friendship is still intact, and they still talk on the court at basketball practice, and on the way to school.

As soon as Kaya sees his daily lucky spot on the side of MLK, where an out-of-use spot merges into a regular spot, he immediately makes a U-turn across double yellow lines and parks right into it, where only a few seniors know of this illegitimate space. He turns off the engine, rolls up his window, turns off the radio, opens the door, closes, and beeps the door shut. Kaya runs toward the main door at 7:29, while screaming, “Later Shaka, see you at practice.” Shaka usually leaves the car when Kaya does, but Kaya offers Shaka the keys so that he can nap or do his homework until first period starts. Once out of the car, he wanders around until school starts. At these words, Shaka dawdles around the other way and drifts off into the opposite direction. He doesn’t do much in the mean time because he doesn’t have a zero period. He roams around Berkeley for about forty minutes until school starts.

Leaving his second period a bit early so he will be able to move the car and go back to third period on time, Kaya finds two lines of chalk and a little rectangular lime-green envelope on the left side of his windshield that says “TICKET” across the front flap in bold font.

“FUCK!” he says. How is this possible, I was just here an hour and a half ago to check my tires...the system is cheating me. Ok…maybe one chalk mark and one ticket. Two chalk marks and a ticket is just pushing it. This is ridiculous. Kaya removes the ticket and inches forward so that the chalk marks is beneath his tires, and off he goes to class.

An hour and a half later, Kaya speeds out of the semi-filled hallways of the second floor of the H-building, and is racing against the traffic of the hallways to get to his car before the meter-maid comes again.

Kaya and Shaka check the car before going off to lunch. “AHHHH….how is this possible?” Questions Kaya. 10:30 to 11:30 is exactly an hour. “Another ticket? What is goin’ on Shaka?” Kaya shouts.

“Iono mang….I say you jus’ move spots every hour now. They have their eyes on you,” explains Shaka. Kaya is too furious to think. He doesn’t even bother to look at the price of the violation, and inches forward until the halfway point of the space adjacent to the curb.

“Ok, that will do it,” exhales Kaya, and heads back to school for lunch and his next few classes. Unfortunately he comes back within the next time-frame of two hours to find his car tires once again marked in various shades of white and yellow on the roadside, and another filthy ticket.

“Three tickets in one day! What is this world becoming?” screams Kaya. In fury, he stomps to his next class and thinks of better ways to overcome the stupid system, or maybe it’s just his own stupidity. Instead of going to 6^th period, he gets permission to get out of 5^th period early so that he can spy on his car as he watches himself fall into the traps of the meter maids. He checks the time on his cell phone. It’s 2:00, ok…I should hide somewhere far, but close enough to witness the action of the scene. He crosses the street and sits at someone’s front porch-step, and peers at his cell phone cautiously as he counts down the minutes until the school gets out of 5^th period. A few minutes before the bell, he witnesses Shaka, out of class. Imma tattle on this kid and tell his momma…or make fun of him at practice for skippin’ in broad daylight. Shame on you, kid.

He thinks about shouting, “Get back to class, Shaka,” until he witnesses what Shaka is doing. Kaya ducks back to his original position on the porch step, and his jaw drops in awe as he sees Shaka mark his tires, and place another lime-green envelope on his left windshield.

“This is ridiculous. Why would be do something like this?” Kaya mutters to himself. He is in too much shock, and stares at his car as Shaka’s silhouette drifts off and becomes smaller. Why…why? I thought we were friends. Maybe he did it as a joke or prank. I mean you never know what’s going on in that kid’s head.

As soon as he gathers his thoughts, he opens the second of the three parking tickets. Inside he finds an official ticket with a “pay to address” written out to Shaka’s house. Shouldn’t these checks be going to the city of Berkeley on Center Street? I’m surprised that Mom did not realize this address.

Well, it’s too late now. His mom has already sent out five checks this week, all worth thirty-five dollars a piece.

Why would Shaka do such a thing? I thought we were friends?

Later that day when the two are on the court doing basketball drills, Kaya pairs up with Shaka in the hoop toss. Right when Coach Naks leaves the court, Kaya pushes Shaka to the side and says, “I know you’ve been up to something with my car, why are you doing it? What’s the deal?”

“What are you talking about? Get off of me, fool, we’re on the court right now. I’m trying to play ball. Quit it man,” Shaka tries to whisper as Naks makes his way back onto the court.

“Everything alright, men?” shouts Naks.

“Yeu….yeeuh,” stutters Shaka.

“Yes, sir,” Kaya backs up Shaka.

“I want three more sets of the hoops drill,” commands Naks. As the pair is performing, Kaya asks Shaka between gasps and shoots.

“I saw you place that ticket on my windshield….and I know the thirty-five dollars have been going to your house. Why man?” interrogates Kaya.

“I dunno what you’re talking ‘bout Kaya, I thought we were friends, but I guess our friendship is over,” Shaka responds, and leaves the court.

He shouts back, “All throughout our childhood, you always thought you were better than me, you had the family support, the money, and clothes. I had nuttin’. Now I guess we’re completely different people, and you telling me that I messed up your car? Ridiculous! I don’t need your rides anymore. Take your stuff, your Jordans home. I’ll give ‘em all back once I gather them up tonight. Don’t worry, we’re over.”

Kaya feels bad for accusing Shaka, and has second thoughts on the whole situation. Maybe I had mistaken him for someone else…but seriously why would Shaka want to do something like this?

Later that night after practice and dinner, Kaya drops by Shaka’s house to find the joyous house lonely and quiet.

“Hello, anyone here?” says Kaya as he rings the doorbell. Silence occupies the howling winds of the chilly winter night.

“Be right there,” says Shaka’s little sister. “Hi Kaya, Shaka wants me to tell you that you can’t come in because he’s not feeling well. Here is all your stuff that he cleaned out.”

“Is he alright?” questions Kaya.

“He’s fine. Just kinda stressing ‘bout mom working overtime, so he’s been trying to help out with the bills,” says his little sister. “He’s doing a great job. Recently we’ve been getting these thirty-five dollar checks from his mail order business.”

“Wow, that’s very considerate of him,” says Kaya. Right at these words, Kaya realizes the motive behind Shaka’s plan, and goes home to fish out all the tickets he received for the week and pays them off with his mother’s checks. That was the last time Kaya and Shaka talk to each other.