happy march ending, everyone!

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Stercus accidit-
Shit happens.
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006: Running From The Past

"Four bundles."

Niel gaped. "Won't they know?"

"Who?" The boy in front of him gave him a weird look. "BSH runs a drug test every two weeks, but I'll be fine. The drugs aren't for me. I just sell."

Oh. The boy was selling drugs just like he was. "But you're new in this school, right?" the boy asked, studying every detail of Niel's face in skepticism. "Better be careful, Building Stone High doesn't take it easy with junkies."

It was probably a piece of advice, but that statement pissed Niel off more than he could control himself. "I'm not a junkie," he corrected, tone a little too hard and jaw locked in a glare.

The boy grinned at him, placing a hand on Niel's shoulder in attempt to comfort him. He shrugged. "You deal in it, you are like one."

With his eyes trained on Niel in a stare, he snatched his drugs from him and walked away, leaving him alone in the empty basketball court.

The guy had effortlessly managed to make him all tense and frustrated, but here he stood, like a hopeless person in an empty field. He raised up the cash in his hands and fisted the notes tightly in his hands.

He just wanted all of this to be over.

Maybe he had to put an end to everything himself.

-

Electronic dance music blasted through the speakers, the only thing filling Madam Zuha's ears as she made her way to the VVIP lounge. On one hand was her clean, spotless white Chanel purse, one which screamed luxury and the other was used to hold her black tailored suit which was draped over her broad shoulders.

"You have a visitor, ma'am. I instructed them to stay in the VVIP lounge and wait for you," an escort informed, careful to trail behind and not walk ahead. Once they'd gotten to the VVIP lounge, Madam Zuha stopped in her tracks and threw a sharp glance at the escort.

"A visitor and you're just telling me now?"

The escort bowed his head in remorse, and fear because he had a crazy boss who could throw hands and give orders at any moment.

The guards who stood in front of the lounge made a slight bow and pulled open the curtains for Madam Zuha to enter. In the lounge sat a hefty looking man who patiently waited for the appearance of Madam Zuha.

Four unopened bottles of alcohol had been placed on the table in front of him, with glass cups. However, Madam Zuha noticed he had refused to take a drink. For a reason, that made the corner of her lips curve in a smile as she took confident strides towards the opposite seat. "I heard you wanted to meet me."

"You know Daniel, don't you?"

Madam Zuha pulled her eyebrows together, staring at the guy in front of her irritatedly. "Not even an introduction?" She made a tsk sound and shook her head. "Anyways, I'm Kazuha. But my people call me Madam Zuha."

The guy exhaled sharply. "I'm Omar."

Madam Zuha smiled once again, and relaxed more in her seat. "Okay Omar, what business have you come to deal?"

Omar's reply was almost instant. "There's a boy you know, Daniel Abara. I want every information on him..." he paused halfway, "or better still, make us meet."

"And what do I get in return, Omar?" Madam Zuha asked. "You must have surely heard enough about me. I believe you've done your research? I don't do things for free. There's gotta be a reward on my side."

Omar maintained a hard stare as he gestured for the body guard who stood by the door to come over with the briefcase in his hands. The body guard dropped it on the table and clicked it open, revealing perfectly arranged neat notes in bundles.

Madam Zuha squinted her eyes and said nothing for a few seconds, only to scoff out loud. "Did you think I was a pauper on your way to meet me? This is chump change."

"What if I said this was a down payment? Half payment."

Madam Zuha tilted her head and continued to watch and listen. "Daniel Abara was my brother's best friend. And I believe he knows something about his death..."

"To cut short the sob story, you think he killed your brother," Madam Zuha completed, a statement to which Omar responded with a curt nod.

"I won't rest till I find the culprit behind my brother's death, and not when I have my suspicions."

Madam Zuha said nothing in response, only coming to a realization that luck might be on her side after all. She'd just found out a secret of Daniel's, and with this she was sure she'd have him wrapped around her fingers for a good while.

But... was that the past he seemed to be running away from? Did he actually kill his best friend?

-

Marcel stared at his friend who seemed to be deeply engrossed in his books and not a bit conscious of his surroundings. He thought George would have been a little different over the years. Yes, he'd always been the serious type... but not to this extent of always reading even when he wasn't in class. It was almost like his friend had no other life apart from his academics.

Marcel found it concerning; an unhealthy obsession.

With a shake of his head, his thoughts drifted off to the girl, Bukunmi he'd been acquainted with these past few days. Marcel's first thought when he saw her was, she's hot.

She could easily pass off as one of the most beautiful girls he'd seen so far, but he didn't think she realized that. She was too absorbed in trying to achieve the academic perfectionist lifestyle to appreciate any good thing about herself.

In a way, he thought she was similar to George. Both lived totally opposite lives but by the same secret, one he wasn't sure they were aware of. And the way she looked at him too, not even trying to hide the fact that she had a hopeless crush on George.

He'd spent just a short amount of time with these people, but he'd noticed so much.

But just as Bukunmi had her eyes on George, he had his eyes on her. She was intriguing and definitely had captivated his interest.

"Hey," Marcel was tapped, to which he turned his face, surprised to see his roommate almost hitting his lips unto his. Both had looks of horror on their faces as they jumped away from each other.

"What the hell?" Marcel sounded like he was about to cry.

"What? I didn't know you were going to turn your face that close. It was just a tap," Moyo defended himself, rolling his eyes as he spoke.

Marcel, however, wasn't having any of it. He didn't say anything for a while and looked around, noticing no one actually cared about them and each person was focused on their business. But one person was missing from the room. "Where's that tall, black friend of yours?"

Moyo raised a finger to his nose, pulling his nose bridge up to Marcel's question. The latter who looked confused at first soon had a deadpan look on his face as he stared at Moyo with a look that said, seriously?

"How am I supposed to know?" Moyo said. "And he can't even stand staying in the same room with George Amari." Moyo pointed towards George, a not so subtle gesture.

George, without looking up, next words dripping with sarcasm, responded, "He's rich. His parents can build a private hostel for him."

Dare sniggered aloud, apparently listening in the conversation and enjoying how George's words seemed to spite Andro. When he sensed George looking at him, he pulled on a straight face and serious composure. "Did I say anything funny?" George asked, and with the way his tone lacked emotion, one couldn't tell if he was being genuinely clueless and curious or sarcastic.

Just as Dare was about to answer, the door was opened and a blank-faced Andro walked in. Everyone but George looked up, and Andro stared, wondering why he had eyes fixated on him.

He got to his bunk bed and asked Moyo what the problem was. "I thought you couldn't stay here because of George, so when Marcel asked of you, that's what I said." He then told Andro what George had said.

Andro looked up, releasing an amused scoff. "Really thinks he's all that," he said, loud enough for everyone, including George to hear.

"Maybe because I am?" George lifted an eyebrow, daring Andro to come at him. Marcel rolled his eyes as he watched the scene unfold.

That did it.

Andro, like a timed bomb, was definitely ticked off instantly.

He scoffed out loud, for the second time. "This almighty complex thing you've got going on, Amari... it's coming to an end soon."

What's up with these two? Marcel wondered. The animosity between them was thick in the air.

"Humor me, Alexandro."

Alexandro laid back on his bed and ignored George's response to him who had also gone back to reading. Marcel couldn't stop looking between them. If this was how their relationship was, then he was for sure definitely not going to have an enjoyable stay in his hostel.

He gave a look to George who stared at him with a blank face in return. They both held eye-contact for a while before Marcel shook his head in disappointment.

-

"What's up with you and melanin boy?" Marcel questioned George as both were on their way to the cafeteria.

George rolled his eyes, taking a while to respond. "He's just an immature person."

"Or maybe you're both immature," Marcel suggested. "It seems like some sort of academic rivalry. And honestly, it never is that deep when it comes to academics."

George let out a scoff, refusing to look at Marcel but Marcel could see the hardened look on his face and how his jaw had set into a lock. "Really easy for you to say, Marcellus. You pass all your exams without breaking a sweat."

One thing about Marcel was... he would always argue. And that's exactly what he did. He argued. "You don't break a sweat either, Amari, but our lives don't revolve around school. Don't keep enmity with someone over some shitty ass grades."

Marcel's words riled up George. The way he said them without a care in the world, the way he named the grades he'd study his ass off for, like they were really something so trivial or useless. Some people really had things easy for them.

George was about to respond, give Marcel a piece of his mind but as he turned to speak to his friend, he was taken aback for a brief moment by the way Marcel's eyes lit up suddenly. He was smiling at something...

Or someone.

George followed his gaze and was even more surprised to see Marcel smiling at the notorious girl. He tried to remember her name, but he couldn't. He did remember, however, that she was the girl who had spoken up against the Principal and Marcel had also said something to her.

Are they friends? That question popped into George's head. A tinge of envy rose amidst the heavy mix of confusion and suprise he was feeling. He had always been jealous of how social Marcel was. While he was the reserved one who kept to himself, his only friends being his books, Marcel could make friends with anything and anyone. He was the type to not listen in class, not pick up a book for months, party all day and night but somehow manage to pass still.

And no matter who the person was, Marcel befriended them if he really liked them. It was very much easy to get drawn into his orbit, to get attracted to him.

George watched the exchange between both Marcel and Bukunmi unfold.

Bukunmi rolled her eyes at Marcel. "Why are you smiling?"

The latter shrugged, realizing there was no actual reason for him to smile at her but he was really just happy to see her. He liked her that much.  "That is no way to speak to your tutor, Bukunmi."

"Ew, don't murder my name with your pronunciation, please." Clasping her hands together in a dramatic plea, Bukunmi shook her head.

Marcel raised a brow, surprised by how active Bukunmi was at the moment. "Keep the sassiness when you solve a question I give you."

"I'll cry, I won't be sassy, but at least pronounce my name well."

George found himself subconsciously smiling. The petite girl who stood in front of him was quite amusing.

"It's not my fault your name is so hard to pronounce. What's a Bukunmi?" Marcel frowned.

"It's Yoruba."

That wasn't Bukunmi responding. It was George who had responded instead. The trio suddenly went silent, including George who couldn't believe he intruded a conversation.

"Yoruba, that complicated language."

Bukunmi couldn't care less about Marcel's reply as she did currently. Her eyes had moved to George and both boys standing at her front noticed. She didn't know what to say. It was like she'd run out of words.

"I think we should be going now, Amari. I don't stand for too long."

No one detected the hint of jealousy in Marcel's tone.

"Okay, gramps," George teased. "Let's go."

"Never call me that again." Marcel hissed to which George chuckled. Both of them walked past Bukunmi without bothering to say a goodbye. Not like Bukunmi was disturbed by that. It seemed she had been momentarily thrown into a daze just with two words.

"It's Yoruba."

"I think my day is going well," she remarked to herself and beamed as she resumed walking.

-

What made him think she wouldn't have done proper thorough research on his background before coming to meet her?

There were two rival gangs which fought to rule the city; the Bloody Rose gang and the Oroo Brothers syndicate. It was a tussle for power between these two, as residents in several communities lost their lives due to many fights for ownership of either land, territory or position.

The Oroo Brothers had a clear leader, a man in his forties which Madam Zuha dealt drugs with on a daily basis. She was his sure plug and he was one of her several means of protection. He was one of the most ruthless gang lords she had ever come across. Human lives to him were nothing but a medium to stake money, and make it. Compared to the Bloody Rose, the Oroo Brothers were more violent in nature and caused a lot of chaos to society.

Society's worst nightmare, Madam Zuha thought.

The Bloody Rose which happened to be led by Omar Elah, the guy who had come to meet her to team up with her. He had an infamous moniker, Ila, a Yoruba word for parting. Its pronunciation was quite the same with his surname. Everyone called him that because of how revered he was in the city. Wherever his presence or name was announced, people made a way to listen and obey.

For the Oroo Brothers, it was more of fear and terror residing in the hearts of people who came across them or even simply heard of their name. But for Ila, it was more of respect and for the way he handled things in the city.

Ila however operated on a low. He lived in the shadows and sent out his members to work for him. People hardly knew what he looked like, but his name was used everywhere. He never made an attempt to hide his true identity, he just never thought it was necessary to make it known.

But now, he seemed to be blowing his cover.

"Ila wants to take revenge for his dead brother. He's ready to show up at the school any moment from now once he finds out that's where Daniel attends."

"Don't you think Daniel should know?" her hireling questioned.

Madam Zuha scoffed. "I have half a mind to let that boy deal with Omar on his own. But it seems he sells good for me. Those teenagers love to take a lot into their system."

"So what do we do now?"

"We pay a visit to the beloved twins, Joseph."

a/n: no author's note, but life is about to finish me.🎀