Them White Fellas With Rare, Beautiful Eyes

Tommy approached Shan'titon High School with a mix of awe and apprehension.

The building loomed before him, a grand structure of brick and marble that seemed out of place in the rundown neighborhood of Tennessee.

Its towering columns and elaborate facades spoke of wealth and privilege, a stark contrast to the modest surroundings Tommy had grown accustomed to.

As he walked through the wrought iron gates, Tommy was greeted by the sight of manicured lawns and well-tended gardens.

The grounds were expansive, dotted with statues and fountains that hinted at the school's prestigious history. He couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, wondering if he truly belonged in such a place.

Approaching the gatehouse, Tommy was met by the stern gaze of the gatekeeper, a middle-aged man in a crisp uniform.

He held out the letter from Mr. Charlene, his hands slightly trembling with nerves. "I'm here to enroll," Tommy said, his voice steady despite the butterflies in his stomach.

The gatekeeper scrutinized the letter before nodding curtly and stepping aside to let Tommy pass. "Head on over to the main office," he instructed, his tone brusque but not unkind.

Tommy walked on, trying to ignore the curious glances from students who passed by. He was acutely aware of his own appearance—his simple, worn clothes standing in stark contrast to the tailored suits and elegant dresses of his peers.

Some students whispered behind their hands, casting lowly gazes in his direction.

Lost in his thoughts, Tommy nearly collided with a boy who zoomed past him on a vintage Benz, a car that even in its aged state still spoke of luxury and privilege.

He stumbled back, catching himself before he fell, while the boy shot him a disdainful glance over his shoulder before speeding away.

Feeling a mixture of embarrassment and frustration, Tommy straightened his shoulders and continued toward the main building.

As Tommy stepped more cautiously through the grounds of Shan'titon High, he was suddenly again startled by the roar of an engine and the screech of tires.

Before he could react, a Royce swerved sharply, narrowly missing him. Tommy jumped back, heart pounding, as the car came to a sudden halt just a few feet away.

The driver's door swung open, and out stepped a girl dressed in a chic blouse and a pleated skirt that seemed straight out of a fashion magazine. Her blonde hair was impeccably styled, and her expression was a mix of annoyance and entitlement.

"You best watch where you're going," she snapped, her blue eyes narrowing as she looked Tommy up and down.

Tommy, taken aback but trying to maintain his composure, replied firmly, "You best watch where you're driving. You nearly ran me over."

The girl huffed, crossing her arms defensively. "Whatever. This ain't a place for... your kind," she said, her tone dripping with condescension.

Tommy felt a surge of anger, but he kept his voice calm. "I got every right to be here," he shot back, holding up the letter from Mr. Charlene. "I'm enrolled."

The girl glanced at the letter briefly, then shrugged dismissively. "Doesn't mean you belong around here," she remarked haughtily, as if stating an obvious fact.

Tommy clenched his jaw, struggling to keep his temper in check. "Well, I'm here to learn, same as everybody else," he replied, his voice tinged with defiance.

The girl rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed.

"Good luck with that, then," she muttered sarcastically, turning on her heel and striding away, leaving Tommy standing there, seething with a mixture of indignation and determination.

As Tommy stood there, facing the girl's dismissive attitude, he took a deep breath and chose to ignore her. He knew getting into a confrontation wouldn't benefit him in any way, especially on his first day at Shan'titon High.

Instead, he focused on his goal and continued walking towards the main office.

He could feel the lingering stares of other students as he passed by, but he kept his gaze forward, determined not to let their judgment affect him.

The halls of the school were bustling with activity, students chatting and rushing to their classes, but Tommy remained steadfast in his purpose.

Inside the main office, he approached the receptionist and handed over the letter from Mr. Charlene. "I'm here to enroll," he explained, trying to keep his voice steady despite the nerves.

The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with a fake smile, glanced over the letter and nodded.

"Welcome to Shan'titon High," she said plainly, handing him a stack of forms to fill out. "Just fill these out, and we'll get you sorted out."

Tommy nodded gratefully, taking the forms and finding a seat in the corner of the office.

As he finished filling out the forms, Tommy handed them back to the receptionist and received his schedule and a school map in return. "Go on and see the principal."

Tommy followed the directions given by the receptionist and soon found himself standing outside the principal's office. The door bore a plaque that read "Mr. A. Goodman, Principal," and Tommy took a moment to steady himself before knocking lightly.

"Come on in," a deep voice called from within.

Tommy pushed open the door and stepped into a spacious office lined with bookshelves and adorned with framed certificates and awards.

Behind a large oak desk sat Mr. Goodman, a distinguished-looking man with graying hair and a stern yet thoughtful expression.

"Good morning," Mr. Goodman greeted warmly, gesturing for Tommy to take a seat opposite him. "You must be Tommy Jones."

"Yessir," Tommy replied respectfully, settling into the chair.

He handed over the letter from Mr. Charlene, his hands steady despite the nerves fluttering in his stomach.

Mr. Goodman took the letter and read it carefully, nodding occasionally as he scanned the contents.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Charlene mentioned you'd be joining us," he said, folding the letter and placing it back on his desk. "We're always pleased to welcome new students here at Shan'titon High."

"Thank ya, sir," Tommy replied, feeling a sense of relief that the initial hurdle was passed.

"Now, Tommy, I understand you've come a long way," Mr. Goodman continued, his gaze kind but probing. "You'll find Shan'titon High quite different from what you may be used to. It's a place of academic rigor and social refinement."

Tommy nodded, understanding the implication behind Mr. Goodman's words. He knew he would have to work harder and navigate unfamiliar social dynamics, but he was determined to succeed.

"I'm here to learn, sir," Tommy said earnestly, meeting Mr. Goodman's gaze with determination.

"Excellent," Mr. Goodman said with a nod of approval, though there was a hint of sarcasm in his tone that Tommy didn't catch. "Your classes are all set, and I've arranged for a student mentor to help you settle in. If you have any questions or concerns, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank ya, sir," Tommy said gratefully, still unaware of the subtle sarcasm in Mr. Goodman's demeanor.

With a firm handshake, Tommy bid Mr. Goodman farewell and left the office.

As Tommy exited Mr. Goodman's office, he nearly collided with a tall, striking figure entering the room.

The guy had blonde hair that almost seemed white under the office lights, and piercing eyes that matched the unusual hue of his hair.

Tommy couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity, a nagging memory tugging at the edges of his mind.

Then it clicked.

He had seen those eyes before, in a fleeting moment at the Copa with Mr. Charlene.

Tommy remembered how Mr. Charlene had handed him the key and papers, and in that same instant, their eyes had met—a young man wearing a hat, playing poker with older, more affluent men.

The memory stirred unease in Tommy.

His mother's words echoed in his head, a warning passed down through generations: "Do you see them white fellas with rare, beautiful eyes? Stay clear of 'em; they're the devil's agents."

Tommy shook off the unsettling feeling and continued down the hallway, his pace quickening slightly. He couldn't afford to dwell on superstitions now.