The Reigning Champ

With every drop of savings in his account, Renlo Corrington purchased a first class ticket from Wilmington, Delaware. He clutched in his hand his mobile device which he only found the window in which to use it enticing. He reclined, his sixteen-year-old legs stretched out before him. Flight attendants offered him champagne and spirits and then their glare changed. They noticed he had been lanky but that baby face spelled the fact that he would not imbibe.

In his hand he held the future. In an app, he would know whether he got accepted to New Sweden University. He wanted to take a trip out to California to celebrate or drown his sorrows in cheeseburgers and girls his age.

“You’re free to use your cell phones and other devices now, also remember to keep your bags stowed and in their proper location upon placing them." An attendant directed. "Enjoy the rest of the flight,” the pilot announced. His voice didn’t seem like the robotic, script-bound way. It seemed marked with a bit of excitement, controlled, but still with an ounce of flair to it.

Corrington looked at the back of his shea butter colored hands. The phone’s screen should have cracked, he gripped it so tightly. He turned in his seat to an older woman. The color of an alabaster box, she had slight gray but virtually no wrinkles in her face. She seemed like aristocracy and everyday life all rolled into one. A wink from her permitted Corrington to return the gesture.

“Relax, kid,” she intoned. “It’s only first class. You’ll be a frequent flyer like myself one of these days.”

Corrington breathed. “You look familiar….” he let the phrase hang out like a glider over a cliff.

“I’m the editor-in-chief of the Daily Delaware. Sharla Toque. And you hail from Marley High School. I’ve had some reporters do stories on you. Why the flight to California, if I may ask?”

Corrington shrugged.

“Oh, come on, now. No one just gets up and boards a plane to the West first class if he doesn't have a purpose….” Sharla’s head leaned slightly forward as if a tiny weight drew it down a bit.

“Alright. I’m allegedly treating myself to some recharging. And I want to see if I got in….”

“Got in where?”

“NSU.”

“That’s my alma mater. With your engineering talent, you should be accepted. You are accepted, right?”

“I don’t know. The message is in an app and I just have to open it to find out.”

“Well, go ahead and open it!” Sharla almost growled.

“I'm waiting until we land.”

Sharla looked like she had been wounded.

“You mean to tell me you purchased a ticket to sit up here and you don’t even know if your school of choice took you on as a student next year?”

“That’s the facts, ma’am.”

Sharla shook her head and almost swore.

“Son, you’ve got to be the smartest and dumbest somebody I’ve ever seen! But it took guts, I must admit. Who the hell am I talking to right now? I once traveled across the country from Delaware in an old beat up pick up truck just to interview a man preparing to be extradited to Delaware on charges of murder.”

“Why didn’t you just wait until he was handed over to the state?”

“I wanted the scoop!” Her eyebrows raised and her mouth curled into a semicircle. “I was a cub reporter doing puff pieces and then this opportunity presented itself so I just seized it. I couldn’t have been more than twenty-two at the time.”

“That was quite a chance,” Corrington replied.

“Hell, yes it was! But look where I am, now. Who knows? If it had not been for that story, I’d be doing obituaries somewhere in Lower Slower Delaware (LSD).”

Corrington squeezed his mobile device as if wrangling a black mamba. The moment felt as fraught with potential peril as gripping a deadly serpent. Still, he glanced over to Sharla and grinned.

“Is college all it’s supposed to be? All I’ve heard is that I need a degree. But I’ve already sold two innovations to major corporations. Most of the top billionaires are dropouts or didn’t even go to college.”

Sharla inhaled sharply. “Well…, I’ll put it like this…you’re going to want to go to NSU because of its awesome engineering department, yes. But you’ll get the academic and the social experiences. You’ll learn how to properly order the right wines, you’ll know geographic locations outside of the United States, you’ll be exposed to more cultures than you have taken in at Marley.”

Sharla’s hands flew as she spoke. Her enthusiasm matched her perfume, bright, and springy.

Corrington shifted in his seat. He folded his left leg over his right and stretched. He looked like a puma flexing its muscles and returning to its natural form.

“I think you should go ahead and open the app,” Sharla encouraged. Her voice seemed hard, though. An edge crept into it and almost startled Corrington. The glint from her wedding ring caught his eye from the sun’s glare outside his window. He changed the subject entirely.

“How long have you been married?”

“Eighteen years this July. I met him––you’re not going to believe this––but I met Chet on my little excursion to get the murderer write-up.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks. He is the fuel to my rocket.” As she mentioned this, Corrington knew what she had just said still remained in her consciousness. He continued to throw softballs in her direction.

“What’s your business out here in Cali’?”

“I’m meeting with a conference of other editors. I’m the only one from the First State, too.”

“I respect your ambition,” Corrington acknowledged.

“Yes it’s my tenth one. I’m completely over it, but hey, California right?”

She sipped some champagne which looked like a duchess drawing from a chalice.

When Corrington held onto the phone with the free WiFi, he felt as if he could just open the app and move on with it faster. Follow Sharla’s advice and get to know about his future with NSU, he thought. Right here and now on this plane. He glanced over to Sharla who spoke with a gentleman. Corrington just had a black tee, blue jeans and white sneakers. Sharla looked regal in her own ivory white business suit.

“Hey there, young man, I’m Grady Vernon,” proclaimed the gentleman who discussed with Sharla something he knew that they had talked about: his college acceptance announcement. He was five foot eight inches and dark skinned. He appeared muscle bound and wore a tan exercise shirt and green trousers. He looked military but executive at the same time. He had started his own electrolyte shot company and headed to the West Coast to certify a deal.

“I hear you’re literally holding your fate in your hands. Why not just go for it? Look and see. That’s what they taught me in the Army. I’m Delta Force and that’s as far as I can tell you. Now, though, in the civilian world, I’ve been able to go to school and get my business degree. I used it to generate my own company. C’mon. All it takes is a few swipes.”

Sharla’s teeth glistened as well. She felt an almost dirty elation by involving Vernon in the information. Corrington couldn’t blame her. Her journalistic style led her to her actions. Now, though, the other passengers not listening to audiobooks or music or the news or whatever seemed curious. A real estate planner named Quinley Barter walked back to see what the fuss was about. Corrington looked up into Barter’s face. A youngish man like him, he worked as a software developer as well and had heard vague stories about this light-skinned kid from the Small Wonder doing amazing things.

“You’ve gotta see it. You must. I didn’t finish college, but that’s all I hire are people with more degrees than I have,” Barter explained. The phone, still grasped tight in his hands, began to ring. Barter took the phone from Corrington’s possession. “It’s Alyssa,” he threw the phone back into Corrington’s grip. He answered her call.

“Baby, how’s the flight?” she asked.

“Weird. Let me text you.” He wrote: People are trying to make me look to see if I’ve been accepted. They’re people in high places though.”

She responded: “Wow. Crazy. Why don’t you just open it, though?”

“I don’t––I mean I will eventually. When we land. It’ll be the first thing I do. Then I’ll call you,” he typed.

“Awww. I can’t wait,” she messaged.

“Bye for now.”

Corrington looked over to where Sharla had been seated. Her chair remained vacant. She had made her way up to the restroom. Corrington just leaned back as Vernon and Barter swooped in and aimed at their prey. Corrington refused to be a victim and lifted his hand.

“Look, I’m going to find out when my feet touch Californian soil,” Corrington asserted.

Barter and Vernon brought up their hands in surrender and smiled at each other. “Hey, man. That’s cool, we can understand that. I was a commander with the rank of captain of D’Boys,” Vernon pointed out.

“Yeah, we’re just trying to allow you to be the reigning champ as the one who may be able to be a college man.”

This made the eyes in Corrington’s head light up. Then, he saw Sharla. She walked back to her seat with an air of distinction and a bit of slyness. Corrington observed her slick smile which curled around her mouth. In a few moments, one of the attendants got on the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to be turning off our mobile devices in a few moments…but before that happens, there’s a special young man who has no idea if he’s been accepted into his university of choice. So let’s all cheer him on with a bit of applause and a chant. The sound of cheers and clapping accompanied the words. They seemed to swim in Corrington’s mind. The chant then developed into a specific sound. “Open the app! Open the app!” The passengers in economy, business, and first classes all made an almost deafening din around the young man. He looked around and put a hand on his head. His palm slid down his face and he looked at Sharla. She winked again and sipped from her champagne.

Corrington got up and looked around. He went into the restroom and splashed water on his face like he was a boxer wiping off blood from too many blows to his visage. He had locked the door but the chant still seemed strong, though muffled. The door swung open and then he looked at the faces, a blob of colors and hands waving in the air. The chant started to die down in the economy and business classes but first class continued to goad Corrington. He looked around at everyone, especially Sharla. He stood to his feet.

“I’ve only got a few moments before we all have to put our tables in their proper and upright position. Now, I’ve got the power in my hand to see my fate. I have the chance to see if I will be a man on campus or just continue to go on my own and found my own company without university. I truly appreciate your enthusiasm. Thank you for taking interest in my education. I take all of your chants and claps as symbols of sincerity. As I go to my seat, I would like to say there’s still a world of people who also understand and get excited about good news. This is my testament to all of you no matter what happens.”

Corrington took his seat and fastened his belt. He still held onto his cellphone with the tightness of a vice.

“Whatever happens, you’re going to be alright, kid,” Sharla leaned over and offered. Corrington put his chin up almost as a salute to a woman about her business.

“Thank you, Mrs. Toque.”