Saving Neba

𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐈𝐈: Go On, Get Up, Fight Me

On the Tuesday after school, because, according to the deal I didn't have to go to Neba today, I decided to visit Madeleine Douglass.

Maddy lived in a two-room apartment not far from Birmingham City University, the kind with an extra bed that can be unfolded from a sofa. There were two of her friends who lived with her: Margaret and Clementine. Sure, she and Rowan went to the same university, they went well as a couple, and now that it was gone, I wanted to know why. Not that it was my business or anything. I mean, I could have been at Asterion.

But I was concerned. There had to be a good reason to close my brother's heart completely.

Maddy's apartment was not close to my house, nor was it an I-can-walk-there kind of place. And, having a taxi to take me there did not seem worth it.

Not when I had Mehjazgeu — even if Crypta didn't want me using Neban oil for personal use.

I had learnt from Crypta that if you wanted to be at a particular place, you didn't necessarily have to meet the person face-to-face, as long as you think you know where exactly the person was at that moment. And because I knew, I hoped, that Madeleine was home, I sprayed the potion and thought about the front door of her apartment.

And, there, I was there. I stuck the can in my purse, took a deep breath and knocked, thrice.

"Maggie? You're here already?" I heard Madeleine's voice just as I heard footsteps from inside, approaching the door. She sounded surprised. "Did you see Clementine on your way? Did you run or something or did you not buy the—Emery Scother?"

She called out when she opened the door and figured that I was not Margaret Peterson. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?"

"Uh—why? Oh, let me guess, your brother sent you here." She threw her hands up and down. She was wearing flowered shorts and a night sleeveless top. Her golden hair was messy. I heard a chuckle, and the sound of lid against pot, which was absurd because, according to her questions, neither Clementine nor Margaret was home. "Get out!"

"Actually, no, I just wanted to see you because, well... I used to visit you before, you know, like old times." I pressed my lips and held onto my purse, trying to see who was in the kitchen.

"Come during the weekends if you want to visit like old times." She made to shut the door.

But somehow, I got so annoyed and impatient that I pushed open the door so that I could see the figure of a shirtless tattooed man. And when he turned to see me, his gunmetal grey eyes rung a bell.

"Emery?" "Sandro?" We said simultaneously.

"You know her, Ale?" Madeleine asked. Sandro was frozen to the spot, wearing only loose shorts. I could only make out his messy dark hair but I was shocked to see Sandro—Ale—in Madeleine's room. Curiously, I turned my face to the bed. Sure enough, the bed was messy too. My heart clenched, the gears in my brain turned, but once again my mouth was kept shut.

"Babe, you're asking if I know her? Rowan's feisty sister?" He moved to Madeleine and wrapped an arm around her waist then pulled her to him, giving her a light kiss on her messy golden hair. "Poor manners this girl has. I can't blame you for breaking up with Rowan."

A tear slid down my eyes. This was who she left Rowan for? A potential gangster?

I mean, who else encouraged people's brothers to waste themselves in a room, drinking beer, smoking, watching violent movies? Who else would date a girl who broke up with his friend, and so soon? Was there not anything like bro code anymore? What kind of person would care less about how a person felt?