Keep Singing

[Cactus]

((CLAUDESON BADEMOSI MEMORIES START))

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

It was a beautiful day in Chattanooga, Tennessee. The sun was shining, the birds were singing their wonderful songs, and the quality of the air was for once, not marred with the sticky humidity that had been causing most people to choose the safety of their air-conditioned homes over the parks, the forests, and the streets of the city. The forecasts were calling for a hot summer, and since the school year was winding down, the kids of George Hunter High School were chomping at the bit to put the 2016-17 school year in the books and get out to their various summer camps, vacations, and summer debauchery. It seemed like everyone had at least something to look forward to, and the mood around the student body was one of anxious excitement. That was, after all, how it usually went in the weeks leading up to the summer break. Claudeson Bademosi was no different - he had his own set of summer vacation plans, and was excited for the opportunity to have a few months off from school.

Unfortunately for Claudeson, one of the things he'd been looking forward to the most for his future hadn't come to fruition, and it was causing him all sorts of strange emotions. As he sat in his car in the parking lot of GHHS, he softly tapped his keys against the leather of his steering wheel, his mind wandering, lost in thought. The old adage rang so true for Claude, and he was a little disappointed in himself for getting his hopes up. What happens when you assumed? You made an 'ass' out of 'u' and 'me', or so the joke went.

Well, Claudeson felt a little bit like an ass. He'd run for vice-president of the student council, and he hadn't even considered the possibility that he wouldn't win. A win for him, judging by whom he was running against, seemed like a certainty. He'd walked in with the expectation that he'd be heading home for the weekend to start planning what he wanted to do to help the student body reach its full potential. But that wasn't the way that things were laid out to unfold.

The results were in, and he'd lost. Faith Marshal-Mackenzie had beaten him.

As he tapped his keys against the steering wheel some more, Claudeson tried to figure out where he'd gone wrong. While his speech had been rushed - more by necessity than by choice, he'd still cultivated an image and a persona of someone who was all about helping his fellow students; Claudeson was someone who could be trusted to do the right thing, no matter what. He was visible around the school, nearly every single event, bake sale, school dance, or anything that needed a helping hand, he was there for. Balancing that kind of presence along with his responsibilities in the congregation was no easy task, but he relished the challenge and the opportunity to try and do as much as he could for the betterment of his school, and his city.

But it hadn't mattered. He'd still lost. To Faith.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

The inside of the car was warm, and Claudeson felt himself starting to sweat, the back of his checkered shirt becoming damp as he sat, pondering. His lips were pursed, and he was staring out the window at the school itself as he tapped his keys, his eyes not looking at anything in particular but taking it all in as his mind tried to make sense of his fate. When he'd informed his parents a month prior of his intentions to run for student council, his mother had been proud, but had cautioned him against making too many plans too quickly. "So much in this world is about the journey, and not the destination", she'd said, and when he'd excitedly attempted to fill her in on what he was planning to do as a student council representative, she'd put a warm hand upon his shoulder and reminded him that "God has a plan for you, son, and maybe it's to lead your peers in this position, and maybe it is not. Whatever the case, you must trust that it will be right, and to take whatever happens with the grace and the courage that I know you will."

She wasn't wrong - in fact, Ifechukwu Bademosi knew her son about as well as anyone in the world, and she had correctly surmised that her son would be enthusiastic and rely upon his self-belief to guide him through the election process. She'd also correctly assumed that he wouldn't have considered the fact that he might lose. He had yet to call or text his mother the news, as he had found out near to the end of the day, and it was a lot to process.

Outwardly, Claudeson had been gracious, and had simply shrugged, and brushed off the loss to his friends as just another step along the way for him. He'd echoed what his mother had said to him about the journey, though the words felt slightly hollow. He'd been saved by the bell to end the school day, and had made some excuse, now finding himself sitting within his car. Alone with his own thoughts.

Tap.

Tap.

Ta-

Claudeson stopped tapping his keys against the steering wheel, and let his head slump back against the headrest. He shut his eyes, and brought his hands up to his face, cupping his face for a moment, and then running both hands through his hair, gathering the dreadlocked mass back behind his head. He sighed, and shook his head. He'd lost. To Faith, of all people. It wasn't that he disliked Faith - rather, it was the opposite. He knew her family from many of the church events around town, and they tended to fall on a similar side of the spectrum as far as opinions on certain things that went on around the school. Claudeson knew her to be a fierce debater and a strong proponent of things that she believed in, though at times he wondered if she veered a little too far to the right for him to be comfortable with. Nonetheless, she'd been a gracious opponent and an enjoyable peer to talk to and hang around with at several of the events that the candidates all had to attend. But as a student council vice-president?

He opened his eyes, and was struck with a momentary confusion as everything was blurry. Sniffing, he wiped his eyes and blinked a few more times, his vision returning to normal. The car was getting unbearably hot, so he took the keys and stuck them in the ignition, turning the mid-2010 sedan on and causing the air conditioning to cut a bite through the heat. That was better.

He had very little faith - pun intended - that she would be capable of making decisions that would benefit the entirety of the student body. While Claudeson's own beliefs occasionally put him in a personally uncomfortable spot with some of the more outwardly far-left liberal populace of the school, Faith sometimes took it to the extreme, and that made him even more uncomfortable than the sight of two men kissing, for instance. Watching two people carry firearms around in the open gave him a far more foreboding sense of uncomfortability, and he had a learned tolerance for one of those options far more than the other. So that someone who advocated so much for free weaponry was in power? It certainly didn't make him feel good.

Particularly as the one who'd come up short. It was his own fault that she was in power. He should have been more charismatic, maybe made more promises. Had he set out an actual platform instead of knowing his peers would have recognized his tireless service, maybe this wouldn't have happened. He was a failure, and he should be ashamed of himself!

He paused short of punching the steering wheel.

This was odd - and unlike him. Claudeson felt his shoulders fall as he exhaled, the cool air starting to bring the temperature of the sedan back to manageable levels. It was too hot out, and the heat was making his mind go askew. He wasn't a failure. Certainly, he'd failed in this particular instance, but like his mother had said, the Lord had a plan for him. Clearly, this position wasn't meant for Claudeson to hold, and that was something that he'd need to come to grips with.

Exhaling, he reached over and grabbed his knapsack from the passenger seat. Quickly unzipping his pack, he extracted his iPhone from the front pocket, and unlocked it. A smile crept its way upon his face as he saw the photo that he had as his background: it was taken from an event that he'd helped put together earlier in the year in support of one of the local shelters. They'd put together a bingo night, and the proceeds had gone towards helping feed some of the less fortunate. The photo was Claudeson, with some of the other volunteers, all smiling, with him in the center, holding up a completed Bingo card. It had been a wonderful night, and he'd come home feeling a real sense of pride that they'd accomplished something great. He still kept in touch with some of the volunteers, and planning had begun on another such fundraiser for later on in the summer. So there, he wasn't a failure. Far from it, in fact.

He wondered where that kind of a thought had come from.

Scrolling into his contacts, he paged down until one particular name came into view. As soon as he'd found out the results of the election, it was a phone call that he knew he needed to make. It wasn't expected, but it was the right thing to do, and he believed that the sentiment would be appreciated. He selected the number and triggered the call. The phone rang several times, and when the telltale click of a voicemail service kicking in came up, he felt an odd sense of relief. This was much easier done by way of a message versus a conversation.

"Sup. You've reached Faith's phone, which is probably out of charge or in a ditch. Leave a message after the beep and I'll hit you up when I can. Peace!"

Claudeson inhaled as the greeting went to its apex, and finally, as the beep was sounding, he exhaled, calming himself and bringing up the smile that he constantly wore around as he spoke. He certainly hoped that Faith wasn't in a ditch somewhere.

"Good afternoon Faith, it's Claudeson calling. I just wanted to leave you a message of congratulations for winning the vice-presidential election! I can imagine that you're probably off celebrating somewhere, and with good reason. I know that you're going to do a fine job representing George Hunter in our senior year, and particularly in supporting..." Claudeson trailed off for a moment, trying to decide how best to phrase this next part.

"... in support of our very special and very capable president. It's a very large responsibility, but I know your vigorous attitude and enthusiasm for the student government is going to keep us in great hands for the next year to come." He exhaled - that was good. The issue of the mentally-challenged Nathan Coleman being elected president was an interesting one, and it had essentially given Faith a de facto presidential position without the benefit of a vice-president to assist her. Which is where his next step was.

"I just wanted you to know that if you ever needed a hand with anything as far as the student government is concerned, I'd be more than happy to lend a helping hand. You know me, I'm always ready to jump in if there is some work that needs doing, and I know that the next year is going to be a rich and challenging one for all of us, particularly you in your new role."

Offer extended, Claudeson began to wrap it up.

"You have my phone number if you'd like to get ahold of me, and I just once again wanted to express my congratulations. You ran a great campaign and you should be proud of yourself. Have a great weekend, and God bless!"

Pressing the red button to end the call, Claudeson hit the lock button on the side of the device and put it back within his bag, the smile falling from his face. Closing his eyes for a moment and exhaling, he looked around the lot outside of the car. The school parking lot had emptied out, and it seemed that he'd missed the initial rush of cars. It was a perfect opening to head home. Shifting the vehicle into reverse, he slowly backed out of the spot, pulling the sedan around and slowly making his way from the parking lot. The temperature of the vehicle had normalized again, and was actually starting to cool below comfortable, which was fine, considering that he could see the heat radiating off the pavement as his car made its way up the incline that lead out of the school parking lot.

It was unusual, then, Claudeson considered as he pulled away from his school, that his face was still damp and his vision mildly blurry, even though the car had cooled down. Sniffing, he wiped his face once more, and returned his vision to normal. The car made the right turn and pulled away from the school.

The summer would be humid, the weather was primed to be hot, and so Claudeson Bademosi kept his mind on the things that he had, rather than the things that he didn't. He just wished that doing so still managed to fill him with the same happiness that it had before he'd come to school that day.

Before he'd failed.

Before Faith.

((CLAUDESON BADEMOSI MEMORIES CONCLUDED))