*Charlie's P.O.V*

Pamela called. Someone answered. Between Mia and Harry, Harry raises my suspicion more since he wants to go with me back to the UK.

"What? I want to see Sil and Leo. I want to know how everyone is doing. Plus, I've written most of my sit-in exams. Just left with final essays," he claims.

"Ok. Pack light."

Harry doesn't pack light.

*
*

The flight back is exhausting. We arrive around midnight, and call Leo to tell him we are on our way.

Once home, he welcomes us and Harry's large suitcase with this: "Argh, you wierdos."

"What happened to hello? How are you? How was the flight?" I quirk.

Leo grunts, already dragging the suitcase inside our house. I help him while Harry ambles as if he hasn't been in here before.

"Y'all have security cameras everywhere." He observes. "Are you hiding diamonds?"

"Yes! I'm a diamond!" Leo yells, earning no reaction.

"And the flowers?! Whose flowers?! Mine?! Oh, Leo, you are so sweet!"

"Ugh! I'm not sweet!"

"He's sweet!" I counter him. Entering the living room, I spot the bouquet of tulips Harry is gushing about.  I yank a card out of it.

Harry peeks from behind me. "This is ... from Monet? Who is Monet?"

"A friend."

"How many girls are just your friend, Charlie?" Harry chuckles.

I don't know. I start to count when Leo reappears to say, "It doesn't matter because he has a wife, remember?"

"Oh yeah, Mia!"

I breathe in.

Out.

And burst: "Will you two stop calling Mia my wife?!"

"We all saw the ring you bought her." Harry plucks out a tulip.

"Ya, because she said she liked it! It was a whole set with the matching necklace and earring and like... It's fashionable."

"That's what he always says," Leo chortles. "And before you know it, they are turning us into uncles."

Harry gasps. "I can see it! You'll be grumpy uncle, and I'll be awesome uncle -"

"We are friends. And she's dating someone." I stress on 'dating' and retrieve my tulip like lightning.

"Ahh," says Harry, "well, we've Monet to tease you with -"

"No. Bye."

"Oh wait -"

"BYEEEE GUYS!" Why are they my friends, again?

*
*

Harry stays true to his word, bombarding my ears with high-pitched love songs early morning. It doesn't help that Leo departs with a cool-headed: "If you spoil my toaster, your hand will burn, Harry."

"Your threats mean nothing!" Harry yells after Leo and then turns to me.

I blink. "Anyway, how are you?"

"Huh?"

"How are you? Like feeling," I chime in, drawing near Harry. He shrugs, and I halt, trying to read his body language. It doesn't look like he's worried for me. What would he even say if he answered Pamela?

Was it Mia? I gasp. Oh, no.

"Seems like I should be asking if you are ok," Harry muses. I shake my head, but he asks, "What is going on? You and Mia seemed very distraught when you got back with Desi."

"Her parents died."

His eyes bulge. I sigh, causing him to blink after ten seconds. "She doesn't know, huh?"

"Mhmm."

"Oh, that's sad." He looks down. "But she will have to know."

"I think Mia will figure it out."

"Charlie, there's no perfect time and - no, Mia doesn't have it all figured out," my bestie replies. "If anything, she's kinda lost."

"Lost?" I frown.

"Yes, like she's not herself. She's absentminded -"

Before Harry can explain further, my notification sounds. Checking my messages, I mutter, "Let's talk more on this later. I have to go to work."

"Oh. You are leaving me?" Harry pouts. Unfortunately, I have to.

*

After two hours of being home alone, Harry decides to visit Sil. He heads for workplace and sits near the exit, waiting for her shift to end. A rhythm plays in his head, causing him to hum. As 'mmm' turns into lyrics, he notes the words down.

His skeleton of a song engulfs him, so much so that he doesn't see Jamiel waiting for Sil too.

Jamiel jerks his knee. He doesn't notice Harry either due to his agitation to get on with his mission.

Sil, hurry! He thinks. He can feel time fly with every breath. He should not be here; he should be killing the cop that got him out. He should be getting shit done. This is boring. Watching her make coffee is like watching bread mould. Silver herself has become so, so dull.

She's not the firecracker he remembers. Those times... Those times in the treehouse ... That thirteen-year-old Sil did anything he asked. She didn't make him wait.

This is not to say that she was gullible. Heck, Sil was the deceiver. She lied a lot. To him, teachers, her parents, me ... Everyone. Jamiel could only see through her facade because, well, once bitten, twice shy.

The first bite happened when Sil found some pills belonging to certain seniors Jamiel knew. It did not help that the stash was in their beloved treehouse, but he told her nothing bad would happen if they ignored it.

His assurance must have made her overconfident, considering that she stole the pills and made Jamiel suffer at the hands of the seniors.

She gave him enough money to appease the seniors, though, in a week, more was demanded. Jamiel knew money wasn't the solution at that point.

Hence, Jamiel considered reporting. He almost spoke to a teacher if not for Sil's friend blabbering that Sil was doing drugs and chasing boys. Whether or not that was true didn't matter to Jamiel; the consequences mattered.

First, the friend's nosiness got Krypton (me) to quit the competition, and then Sil fired back by telling her dad that said friend harassed me.

While that led to drama in the girls' camp, the boys saw fire. There began a manhunt for the 'those who want to taint the well-grounded excellence Saint John's Boys has nurtured for decades,' or whatever. Two of the seniors who bullied Jamiel got expelled. The others didn't let him off the hook for that; they attacked at any chance, petrifying him daily.

During vacation, they still came after him. Jamiel recalls that day when he was grocery shopping, and the boys attacked. With no money left for them to snatch, they beat him, kicking and kicking till  an adult yelled, "Hey! Stop that!"

The boys fled. Jamiel stayed on the ground. The adult strutted towards him with a soothing aura, like a father. He pulled Jamiel up, dusted off his jeans and retreated.

A stupified Jamiel stared at the man until it dawned on him that this was a moment he would never forget.

"Who are you?!" he asked, wiping blood from his nostrils.

The man turned. "Come find out."

~

As kids, we were often told not to follow strangers. Jamiel couldn't care less.

He entered the man's pickup, though something about him - be it his towering stature or the beard rounding his face - screamed, 'I don't take nonsense.'

The man said he was a farmer. Drigo was his name. Jamiel didn't tell his, but he trusted the man enough to let him see where he lived. Before he knew it, the man became a frequent visitor, always bearing food and other gifts for himself and his family. As grateful as he was, Jamiel was astonished by Drigo's wealth, so he asked if he could work on his farm.

"No, kid. Focus on your books."

"But my school hasn't reopened yet. I'll work till -"

"I said no."

Yet Jamiel hid in his truck bed, resilient. When Drigo found him, he mumbled, "You are dumb for this," and ushered him into his greenhouse.

"You grow blueberries?" Jamiel asked. Drigo nodded before going into how he cared for his plants.

Working in the greenhouse was so lovely that Jamiel kept it up every vacation. One day, he arrived to find Drigo talking to a light brown lady. She was in all black and had a cup of ice cream in one hand, digging into it as Drigo walked her around the plants. "...by the way, that's my boy over there. Jamiel!"

"Yes?!"

"Kindly wave to us!"

He obliges. The lady waves back and yells, "I'm Pamela!"

"Ok, nice to meet you, ma'am!"

"No! Just Pamela!"

"Nice to meet you, just Pamela!"

Pamela laughed at his response, making him smile. The next time she visited, she brought a truck carrying the harvest. When Jamiel asked Drigo what she would use them for, he shrugged.

Curiosity took over Jamiel as her visits increased. Feeling left out of some secret, he hid in one of her trucks. Little did he know that the truck driver had to check goods after every hour on the road.

The driver found him in no time. Jamiel begged for forgiveness, only for the driver to laugh. "Kid, relax. Nothing is going to happen to you. What brings you here?"

"Oh no, just wondering what happens to the berries."

"We squash them." said the driver, "for juice."

"Oooh."

"Anyway, I can't drive you back. You have money, right?"

Jamiel shook his head despite the heavy wallet in his trousers. The driver removed his larger one and dumped a wad in his palm. At the money, Jamiel wondered how a driver could have so much.

"Pamela pays well," answered the driver.

~

Jamiel took lessons from the driver. It was hard juggling schoolwork, the greenhouse and driving, but he made gradual progress.

About two months before Sil's arrest, he got a fake licence. Pamela wasn't thrilled about that, but she admired his work ethic enough to hire him for something else.

"How about I take you to the States this summer?"

Jamiel frowned. He didn't want to leave home, and he had never been outside the UK before. Pamela, however, promised to return him if he didn't like any of her vacancies. After much deliberation, he got on her plane.

*

Jamiel felt homesick not long after. He wished for his mother's embrace instead of the driver's snores. Staying with the driver in a foreign motel was weird. Could Jamiel complain, though? Nope. After all, he only had to clean the truck, check for maintenance and help offload goods.

"You're very hardworking. I like that," the driver commented one day. "How about a break? A fancy restaurant?"

"Yes!" Jamiel hopped into the passenger's seat of the truck. The driver had to transport some stuff first, but Jamiel didn't notice; he fell asleep.

Gun sounds awoke him. Jamiel squinted at his side mirror, then at the masked motorriders shooting. He watched until realisation hit him.

"Wha... What is happening? Are they shooting us -"

"Get down, boy!" The driver stopped. Still perplexed, he watched the driver jump out like a crazed man.

"GET DOWN!"

"Ur -" Jamiel stumbled to land. He wanted to tell the driver that staying in the truck would be better, but the man was already entering a bush. They got on another road to hitchhike to Pamela's villa.

*

When brought before Pamela, Jamiel felt beyond annoyed with the driver who stuttered and spluttered like a child, as though they would have died. They could have intimidated the riders with their truck rather than run away like cowards.

"So, you are telling me you fled and left my goods behind?" Pamela raged. Her brother was beside her, chuckling.

To not infuriate them further, Jamiel bowed. He stared at his sneakers hard enough to forget his surroundings. All he saw was white lace... With blood splashed on it.

He looked up. Down. Down. The driver was on the floor, bleeding from his head.

Oh my - Jamiel's heart sank. He turned to Pamela, only for her to hug him.

"It's ok," she said. "It's ok."

But it wasn't. Jamiel couldn't eat afterwards. He couldn't do anything. He was assigned to a new driver, although his efficiency dwindled. Realising that he wasn't sleeping either, the driver offered him sleeping pills. Next was oxys and, then, heroin.

Nothing took Jamiel's mind off the death.

"Ok, how about these pills," the new driver showed him what seemed like a foreign medication. Jamiel read the label and asked what language it was, to which the man replied, "Russian. Don't take too much, or else you'll get paralysed."

"May God decide." Jamiel took eight. Two minutes later, he was rushed to a hospital. The new driver abandoned him before the doctors could get his name or family contact.

Jamiel gained consciousness the next day, and the doctor asked if he had a guardian.

"Ur, no... But-" He paused, thinking back to the dead driver. He couldn't call Pamela after that event. He couldn't trust her.

So, he asked for a pen and paper, on which he wrote down Sil's number.

*Sil's P.O.V*

Jamiel likes to act like he doesn't need my help, yet whenever he's in trouble, I'm his emergency contact.

Today, he is in the coffee shop, anxiously watching me work. I hope that whatever is bothering him isn't as serious ... as back then.

The second my shift ends, he exhales. I tug him outside when he sighs, "This isn't you."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, you know." He shrugs. "You wanted to be an actress."

"I will be. I need to get my shit together first." My brows knit together."Anyway, here." I hand him some blankets and packaged pastries for his younger siblings.

He grins and hugs me with a chirpy: "See you tomorrow, ok?"

So you just needed me for food? What a guy.

After seeing Jamiel off, I return for my belongings only to realise Harry is seated by the door.

Shit. Did he see Jamiel?

Judging from his concentration on his notebook, nope. I slap his shoulder and he jolts before giving me puppy eyes. Shaking my head, I grab my stuff quickly and tug him towards the opposite direction from where Jamiel went.

We get a taxi. He leans on the car window, whereas I scroll through my feed until -

"Not him trending for this!"

"What? Who?" Harry pokes his head in panic. I point at my screen.

Then, we share a look and burst out laughing.

*

*