By Sam Faulkner
Copyright 2012 Sam Faulkner
Shawn Jefferson didn’t project the conventional image of a wizard. In his well-fitting tan business suit with complementary shirt and tie he appeared every inch the successful African-American business man. The students he was addressing on this day would have been amazed to hear about his magical or near-magical powers.
The six high school students, all either African American or Hispanic, were chattering among themselves in the conference room. The guys wore their denims low on the hip, showing some boxers. Carlene, was the only girl in the group. Her blue mini-skirt was worn low and short, and her white tank top barely constrained her blossoming figure.
The conference room was standard for a medium size company. The walls were unadorned and painted in a neutral color. The rug was even more neutral, but darker. There was one long metal table, with a vinyl top that was supposed to look like wood. The five footed swivel chairs from a discount office supply house, occupied by the students, were on one side of the table.
When Shawn had made his entrance into the room, the kids took their feet off the table and sat up straight before he said a word. Although he was only five foot ten, he stood straight and tall, with mahogany skin and short black hair. He was very fit for someone in his late thirties.