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Smartly Pretty

Promo: Family

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Cameras make their way to an empty corridor. AfterShoX is over, and no one is here. Except for three people.

 

Michael Cross, Akira Kaibatsu, and Mr. Kobe. Cross’ chest has the odd pigment of dry blood; he never bothered to wipe it up, or bandage it.

 

 

“I’ve never had a family,” Cross chokes out. Akira is standing with his back against the wall, holding his hands in the pockets of a zip-up hoodie, listening to Cross, with his head at the floor.

 

“That fucking whore, who gave birth to me? My so-called mother? My piss-drunk father? Is 28 days enough to call a family?” Cross’ words are strong, but he’s not yelling. He keeps his composure well.

 

“No”

 

“The Conrad’s? Are they family? With their honor student, and honor band trumpet player, the one they loved so much? Is that little show-off a brother?”

 

 

“No”

 

Akira takes his hands out of his pockets, and takes a sip from an Auqafina. Kobe takes a step forward, putting his hand on Cross’ freshly shaven buzz cut, consoling him.

 

“How about the Tanner’s? After all, it was their marvelous support that kept me in school, and on the right track. A beer bottle to the chest every now and then isn’t too painful after all. . Surely they were my family?” Cross stands up and continues.

 

“A good enough family to keep me from getting on a plane to Japan, for sure.”

 

“Even over there . . . even in Japan no one took me for who I was. I wasn’t Michael Cross. I wasn’t the suicide machine . . . I was some 16 year old kid, who would always be too small, too short, to young, too bruised, too poor, too everything.”

 

“Except for Mr. Kobe. Kobe saw me . . . and he took me with him.” Cross stops for a second, to look back at Kobe.

 

“And he took me here.”

 

 

 

“And for the first time . . . I have a family.”

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