Me and a kid named George Morrison were schoolyard rivals. Not in the sense of sports or the arts, but as social competitors. There was this girl who was the same age as us. Her name was Destiny. We both liked her, but whether she took interest in either of us still remains a mystery.
Destiny was nothing special. She was the average girl from the projects with an uncertain future. The clothes she wore was the same as ours. The shoes she wore was the same pair with the same dirt marks on each side. Only mindless boys would fight over a person so basic.
Good old Destiny Houston must've had two choices. On the left she saw George Morrison. He stood tall, dark, and somewhat handsome. Morrison wore a gap in his teeth. That jacket he use to wear was nothing but all black leather with some kind of black fur on the hood. If you asked me this jacket only made him look darker than mid-night. On her right was me, Malcolm Montgomery. I stood 5ft,0in. I was never muscular or physically attractive. Never played sports really good. The only clothes I wore were the one's that my mother could afford. To sum it up I didn't have a package or a half off deal.
Years later time would be the best revealer. While working with a summer youth program a girl that I worked with told me what Destiny's fate had came to. As told by this girl's mouth Destiny was in a state of decay. Messed up teeth and everything. If true I wouldn't be surprised seeing a person my age looking like that-it's common. I Guess if you waste your youth on foolishness disaster strikes.
Till this day I hope that me and George Morrison can bump into each other and reminisce. While we stand by the Kennedy's on 228th Street we could talk about our battles over Destiny Houston and the trends of that time. We could also discuss our current ventures and endeavors. If we never see each other again the one thing we could agree on is that, boy were we stupid.
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