Martha's Party.

Zafa and I were in the music room after school when Martha Jones was looking for me.

“There you are,” she’d said, smiling. She flipped her curly blonde hair back. “Oh, hi Zafa.”

Zafa lifted his hand up as a sign of acknowledgement for Martha as he adjusted the microphone on its stand. “What’s up, Martha?” I asked.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard but Aaron and I are now a ‘thing’,” the words came out of her mouth as if she was bragging, showing off that she wasn’t single to someone who’d been crushed the day before.

“So what?” I find myself saying, instantly regretting it as I could see that her smile dropped just a bit. I strummed by guitar randomly, averting my eyes from her.

“Aaron and I’ve decided to have a party this weekend at his house-”

“And you want me to be a musician for a night?” I guessed, looking up at her now. She tucked a lock of curly blonde hair behind her ear and walked closer.

“I’ll pay you,” she said.

“Sorry Martha but Muhzim doesn’t sing. I do,” Zafa, who’d apparently learn from his previous experience, told her. Martha thought about this for a few seconds before saying, “Sure. Muhzim, you can bring Zafa and you both can be a band for a night. I’ll text you the details of the party tonight.”

“What kind of music would you like?” I asked before she went off.

“Hmm, some kind of soft music. Like ‘Paris in the Rain’ by Lauv. Alright, I’m off. See you both this weekend!” And she walked off, her high-heels echoing through the hallway. I turn back to Zafa and grin.

“So, I see that you’ve learned from your last experience to get yourself invited to a party by becoming my singer for a night.”

“Oh shut up,” Zafa puts his hand on my face and pushes it. I laugh.

“How much do you think she’ll pay us?” Zafa asked, his eyes sparkling.

“Won’t Aaron pay us too? I mean it’s their party,” I said.

“C’mon Muhzim we both know Aaron only wants Martha for her money,” Zafa deadpans.

“Martha doesn’t know that though.”

“Why don’t you write a song about it then?”

“Aaron will kill us.”

“Aaron’s too stupid to know it’ll be about him,” Zafa scoffed. “The guy maybe the best basketball player in school but he definitely has the worst brain. I’m surprised he isn’t a caveman.”

“Speaking about brains I have to go back now, actually. Swafa needs my help on her science homework about neurones,” I said, groaning.

“I thought you got a ‘C’ for that topic a few years back during the exams,” Zafa said, getting up as I did.

“Ah and so the tradition will continue,” I said, laughing.

…

“Muhzim explain what are neurones again, please?” Swafa asked me for the hundredth time. I could’ve gone mad and end up in an asylum chanting what neurones were.

“Read your text book, it’s in there,” I replied. We were both in her room, her at her study table whereas I was on her bed, playing with my guitar as I tried to play ‘Paris in the Rain’. Zafa knew the song by heart and secretly, I thought he was an amazing singer. Can’t tell him that though; he’ll get full of himself.

“Why don’t you write a song about it?” Swafa suggested the worst idea I’d ever heard.

“Sure, why not I make a song about the seven continents after that?” I deadpanned. Swafa threw her pen to my back and I howled in pain.

“What’re you trying to play anyway?” She asked, getting off her chair and sitting next to me on her bed. I scooched over a bit to let her see my laptop screen that showed what I was trying to play.

“Ah,” she said, nodding. “Whose party is it?”

“Martha Jones,” I said.

“Oh cool, she’s Erna’s cousin.” My ears perked up at this statement and my eyes widened.

“And now I regret talking,” Swafa said after she say my reaction. She got up to continue doing her homework.

“No one leaves right after they say something like that,” I said, getting up from her bed and hovering over her.

“Go awaaaaaaaaay.” Swafa groaned.

“Will she be at the party? What will she wear?” I blurted out, my heart desperate for an answer. Instead, Swafa put on her wireless turquoise headphones and drowned me out by playing ‘All Falls Down’ by Noah Cyrus and Alan Walker.

“Fine, ignore me. Help yourself to neurones and such,” I said, taking my guitar, laptop and myself out the door. I pressed my ear against her bedroom door to hear if she was going to say anything.

“I know you’re there,” her muffled voice said. I groan and walk into my own room, settling on my bed.

Suddenly, I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. I took it out to find a text from Martha.

Begins at 7, ends at 11, snacks and food will of course be provided, Aaron and I will pay you what you and Zafa deserve. Here are the songs we want you to play.

Just the Way You Are, I Like Me Better, Paris in the Rain… The list went on. I forwarded the list and details of the party to Zafa and he instantly replied with, Hope I get paid a lot. I have to sound like Bruno Mars and Lauv this weekend.

I have to deal with sore fingers for the weekend. You wanna compete?

Touché, my man.

“Better get to strumming,” I murmured to myself. I pick up my guitar and sit on my bed, expressing myself through music.

…

“Muhzim hurry up! Zafa’s been honking outside the house for 10 minutes now,” Mom knocked on my door aggressively. Instantly I opened the door, showing her that I was in a vest with a white t-shrit underneath, wearing jeans to go with my outfit.

“Should I go with a fedora or just let my hair be ‘bad boy’ style?” I asked Mom, showing her my dark blue fedora. Swafa passed by my room with her headphones on. She took them off when she saw me and whistled, saying, “The fedora will make you look like a nerd, Muhzim. Go for the bad boy hair. You’ll make Qizy regret she ever left you.”

I smirked at the thought and gave Mom my most charming bad boy smile. She kissed me on the forehead and that was when Zafa knocked on the door this time, hollering, “Muhzim I will bring a maraca band up the doorstep of your house if I have to. I swear I’ll do whatever it takes to get you out of there!”

And that was when Dad answered the door.

“Oh, good evening, sir,” I heard Zafa’s loud voice go meek. Mom, Swafa and I grinned at this and listened to what Dad was about to say.

“You too, Zafa,” Dad replied. “So, what was it you said about a maraca band?”

“Uh…” Zafa’s voice went stale and I scampered down the stairs with my guitar.

“Oh hello Zafa! I didn’t hear you come!” I said in my most cheerful and most charming voice. For a split second I thought I saw him scowl. His tensed face turned jubilantly fake at once and he turned to Dad, saying, “Well sir we better get going. We’ve got a party to attend to. Muhzim’s playing, I’m singing.”

I ran to Zafa’s side and he subtly nudged my back with his elbow, making me wince. “You boys enjoy yourselves. Good bye now,” Dad said before he closed the door in our faces. I turned to look at Zafa to see that he looked deadpan.

“Maraca band,” I snorted out laughing as I got into his mustang, sitting in the shotgun seat.

“Mention that again and you’re walking,” Zafa got in and started the car. I laughed and we drove off.

…

Martha and Aaron’s party was better than Ivy’s I have to admit. Maybe it was because of how much she paid me and Zafa by the end of the night ($80!!) or maybe it was something else. It was a lively one, filled with my guitar skills and Zafa’s attempt to sound like Bruno Mars (which turned out to be pretty good).

But there was no sight of Erna.

By 11, the party died out and people left. Martha and Aaron thanked me and Zafa as we headed out.

“It was our pleasure,” Zafa said, beaming.

“I liked your outfit, by the way,” Martha said, pointing a finger at me. I flipped my hair back and gave her my most charming smile, the one I’d given Mom earlier that evening. I could’ve sworn I saw Aaron glaring at me before he said, “now, off with you two. We’ll see you both at school on Monday.”

As Zafa and I turned away, he asked me in a whisper, “Did Aaron just glare at you?”

I grinned at him and gave him my sexiest smile. “Oh yes he did,” I whispered proudly.

As we approached Zafa’s mustang, I said, “You know what? I’ll walk home.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah I mean, it’s an autumn night, it’ll be cold but hey who cares,” I told him, waving my hands. He nodded sceptically, got into his mustang and before he drove off, he asked me, “We should do this again sometime. You play, I sing. What do you think?”

I smiled and said, “Yeah, I think so too,” without hesitation. Zafa smiled and told me, “Have a good night, Muhzim.”

“You too.”

With that he drove off, leaving dust behind him. I sighed and started my journey back home, letting the autumn night breeze leave me in awe.

On my way, I passed Greenwood Avenue’s public playground. It had to be the biggest (and cleanest) playground for miles from my neighbourhood. The swings and slides shone, reflecting the light from the moon (actually the Sun’s light because… you know what nevermind).

I was admiring the playground when I saw,

Erna.

She was sitting on one of the swings, looking up to the moon. And above all,

She was actually smiling.

I stopped dead in my tracks to admire her smile. It was so aesthetic, so natural, so…

Aaaaaand that’s when she turned to me. And her smile faded.

To be continued in: A Million Stories in a Night.

All the Wrong Steps.

I walked to school alone the next day as Zafa had a basketball tournament whereas Swafa was homesick with a fever (correction to that she just told mom she had a fever as she didn’t want to attend Geography class today).

It was 10 minutes until the bell rang but I couldn’t care less for some reason today. I took my time, enjoying the sing-song tweeting of the neighbourhood birds and autumn wind. I smiled to myself as the wind flips my black hair off my forehead. I felt like a movie-star, heh.

Everything was perfect, my mind was in peace; all until I saw her.

Erna had her long brunette her down, the curls showing. She was walking on the opposite sidewalk, her eyes yet again, downcast.

My heart ached as I asked myself whether I should go and talk to her. Don’t let the moment go to waste, I told myself. With that, I walked over to her, crossing the road.

I wasn’t halfway across the street when she turned, as if she’d always known I was there. Her hazel eyes enlarged and she begin to walk hastily. I groan. “Erna, wait!”

She stopped abruptly and turned back to me. That was when she finally spoke to me. “How do you know my name?”

I plastered my most charming smirk on my face and scamper over to her, expecting her to run off but she didn’t. I glanced up at her for a second to see her face still horrified, as if I was Shrek. I laugh at my nonsense thoughts.

“You’re Swafa’s older brother, aren’t you?” She said, surprising me and killing my happy-go-lucky morning vibe. In an instant I stopped laughing and stared at her. She rolled her eyes and walked away, muttering, “I knew it. I knew I shouldn’t have befriended Swafa.”

“Hey,” I said, catching up with her. “How do you know I’m Swafa’s older brother?”

Erna stopped walking and twirled back, her hair flying but landing back on her shoulders gracefully. “Your laugh. It’s just as peculiar as hers.” And with that, she started walking off again, this time faster.

“Peculiar how?” I asked, catching up. I heard her groan to herself and I just grin. Her eyes were downcast once more.

“Are your eyes always downcast?” I find myself asking. She craned her neck to look up at me, her hazel eyes a piercing shade hazel now. “Are they downcast now?” She asked, almost in a whisper. I felt my heart skip a beat. As if she knew, she looked away and started running off now.

“Hey!” I hollered after her. But it was too late, of course.

She was gone with the wind.

…

“So you chased the girl?” Zafa asked me at lunch. I groan and slam my forehead on the table, wincing, instantly regretting my action. Zafa laughed and I wished his laugh would just drown in together with the sea of noisy high-school students.

“It was an idiotic thing to do, I know.” I said to the table. It came out muffled but Zafa understood anyways.

“Swafa’s going to kill you. The girl’s first and last chance to make a friend is now ruined thanks to her obsessed brother.”

“I’m not obsessed!” I said, lifting my head and widening my eyes.

“Call it what you want Muhzim but it’s called obsession,” Zafa told me as he took a bite into his burrito.

“How was the basketball tournament by the way?” I asked, trying to get my mind off Erna and change the subject. My move as obvious but Zafa deliberately ignored the fact, I could see.

“We lost, as usual,” he said, shaking his burrito. “Stupid Tom West shot a goal for the other team.” Zafa muttered, pointing his chin to the well-known Tom West. He was handsome with wavy blonde hair; problem is he was incredibly stupid.

“Anyway,” Zafa said, putting his burrito down and lifting an eyebrow, looking at me. “About Erna-”

“No, no, no,” I said, holding my hands up. “We shan’t talk about her.”

“Why are you running away from the subject?” Zafa laughed at his own stupid pun. I got up and walked away, disgusted with him.

“Hey where are you running off to?” He hollered after me with a laugh.

…

“PLEASE SWAFA GIVE ME THE GIRL’S DAMN NUMBER,” I screeched, Swafa covering her ears from my madness.

“No, Muhzim. YOU’RE OBSESSED AND I WILL NOT FEED YOUR OBSESSION,” She screeched back, pointing a finger at me dramatically. I fall onto the couch as if I’ve been shot and Swafa groans.

“Muhzim you don’t even know who this girl is! What is up with you? I remember you said you were going to take your time with Qizy so that you wouldn’t mess it up a long time ago but look where you are now!” Swafa gave me an earful, reminding me of mom.

“What’s all the ruckus about?” Said a voice. It was dad. He came down the stairs with a coffee mug and in his hands, wearing only shorts and a blue t-shirt.

“Muhzim is obsessed with my best friend Erna,” Swafa deadpanned, her finger once again pointing at me. I sit up on the couch and say, “I am not!”

“You’re asking me for her number, Muhzim. What could that be called then?” Swafa retaliated, raising a sassy eyebrow at me. At that very second I felt like shaving off her eyebrows.

“Obsession isn’t the right word Swafa; love is,” Dad tells her, literally making the situation worst. I plaster my most deadpan look and say in my most deadpan way, “Wow thanks for backing me up, dad.” He lifts his coffee mug and heads for the kitchen.

…

Swafa was busy watching the Simpsons when I got hold of her phone. Stupid kid, she knew I was going to get Erna’s number anyway. Ah, bonus; her phone didn’t have a passcode to unlock.

I scroll through her contacts and find Erna’s name, typing it in my own phone. I put Swafa’s phone back on the coffee table and head up stairs to my room, texting Erna as I went.

Hey, it’s Muhzim. And without thinking twice, I hit send. Erna reads it instantly, giving me the blueticks.

And the next thing I know, she blocked me.

My texts didn’t go through nor could I see whether she was online on whatsapp or not. I groan. ‘Well, better start hacking.’ I tell myself. It was 5 after 10 at night when I got her location and apparently she only lived a few blocks down from my house.

I wrote her a letter that simply said, ‘hi’ and folded it into a square. I get on my pale blue bike and cycle to her house. It’s dark now but I don’t mind.

Her house is literally a graveyard. It’s gloomy and painted with dark colours. Erna was at her doorstep when I arrived and my heart skipped a beat. Her hazel eyes shot me a look when my bike came to a stop and I was afraid now. Afraid that she had a baseball bat with her or a stick to hurt me with.

“What’re you doing here?” She said it ever so softly that I thought I’d imagined it. Her brunette hair was down in curls now and she was in a black nightdress. I hold out a shaky hand with the paper in my grasp. “H-Here you go.” I felt like a coward.

She got up after a while and took the piece of paper out of my hand aggressively. She unfolded it, read it and tore it up right in front of me. I felt my heart shatter to bits.

“Don’t come here. Ever.” And with that she walked back into her house and slammed the door behind her.

I felt dead.

To be continued in: Martha’s Party.

Last Night's Gal.

I hear a car honking outside my house and I see that it’s Zafa in his antic mustang. I grab my bag and as I’m on my way out the door, Swafa runs to block me.

“Ugh, whaaaaat,” I groan as I roll my eyes. Swafa gives me an evil grin and says, “Take me to school on Zafa’s mustang and I won’t tell Miss Jones that you did my homework.”

“Tell Miss Jones that and I tell her that you didn’t even bother to try and that you forced me to,” I retaliated, raising an eyebrow. I push her away and twist the doorknob to get out but Swafa gets hold of my hand.

“Just bring me along, please? My bag’s really heavy today and you know how mom is about posture,” Swafa whines.

“What’s in this deal for me?” I ask, smirking. Swafa glares at me and says, “Give me a ride with Zafa and I won’t ask you about my chemistry homework for a MONTH.”

In an instant I open the door and yell at Zafa, “Swafa’s hitching a ride with us and I don’t care what you have to say!” I glance back at Swafa and see that she’s smiling. Zafa has taken off his sunglasses and is now glaring at me. I ignore this and slap my shoes on and run towards Zafa’s mustang, sitting in the shotgun seat.

“Tell the kid to ride in the trunk,” Zafa tells me with a glare. I laugh as Swafa gets in the back seat, saying, “Thanks, Zafa!”

Zafa grunts and pulls away from our house. I put on my sunglasses and look towards the rising sun.

…

We get to school early and Swafa rushes off to her class, not forgetting to thank Zafa once more. Zafa and I walk to our class together. And I tell him about the girl I met last Saturday night.

“She may be a ghost,” was Zafa’s comment when I told him she’d disappeared when I turned back to look at her after 10 seconds.

Speak of the devil. That very same girl appeared in front of my eyes once more.

She had her backpack on her back and had her brunette hair tied into a messy bun. Her face was freckled and from where I was, her downcast eyes were hazel and had long eyelashes. It was as if she was the only one I could see; as if it were only the two of us in this entire school.

“Is that her?” Zafa asks, apparently noticing my awkward staring towards the girl. I hide my blushed face and manage to choke out, “yeah.”

Zafa whistles and marches over to her and immediately my blood runs cold. “No, no, no, no!” I yell as I tug onto Zafa’s shoulder to stop him. But of course he doesn’t.

The girl is now looking at Zafa and when she sees me, her hazel eyes widen and she trots away. She gets missing in the midst of people and Zafa groans. “What the hell Muhzim; I almost had her!”

“Exactly!” I say, glaring at him. I scamper off to my locker, stuff my books and take out other ones, close my locker and walk to class, not paying any attention to the questions Zafa was terrorizing me with.

As I walk in front of Zafa, I feel his disgusting smirk behind my back. I roll my eyes and turn around to see that I was right. He was smiling smugly and now that I’d turn, I’d given the monkey some entertainment.

“You like her,” he whispered, still smiling smugly. I glare at him and walk towards class.

“She looks too young though,” Zafa says towards my back. I pay no heed to his words instead I trot to class, getting away from him.

“You’ll ever get her, Muhzim!” He hollers.

…

The halls are now empty and quiet. I walk in the lonely hallway and pass by the cafeteria that might as well turn into a warzone by how noisy it is. Its lunchtime and I don’t wish to bump into Zafa.

Or anyone.

I think about the brunette and how her face changed when she saw me. Does she know me? Do I know her? Have I ever done anything to her to make her hate me so much? She turned down my help offer on the night we met. Is there such a thing called ‘hate at first sight’ now??

I sigh and walk towards the football field. It’s a cloudy day. It’s windy too. I look up to the rows of seats and my heart skips a beat when I see who’s sitting down on one of the seats.

It’s her. The brunette. She had her hair still tied into a messy bun and yet again her hazel eyes were downcast. There was a notebook in her lap and she was writing in it. Her bag was next her, leaning on her shoulder. She looked so aesthetic.

As if she was posing for a photograph.

‘It’s now or never,’ my heart says. I inhale and as I begin to walk to where she was, something stops me.

“There you are!” Hollers a voice from behind me. I turn back and see Zafa. I groan.

“What’re you doing here?” I ask, raising my voice. I might as well be enraged.

“That’s what I was about to ask you,” Zafa says as he gives out a nervous laugh. I ignore him and turn back to where the brunette was.

But of course,

She was gone.

…

“You sure you don’t want to hope in?” Zafa asks. School’s over and I’d told him I was going to walk home.

“Pretty sure I don’t,” I say, raising an eyebrow. He sighs and smiles at me anyway. He puts on his sunglasses and drives away.

“Hey, big brother,” I hear a familiar voice say behind me. I turn back and see Swafa walking towards me. “Where’s Zafa?”

“Oh,” I say. “He left without us. We’re walking home today.”

Swafa looks at me in disbelief and I just flash my most handsome smile. I begin to walk and Swafa catches up with me and we both walk in silence.

“You look glum,” she says abruptly. I turn to her and she turns to me, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear. The wind untucks it and covers her piercing blue eyes.

“I’m fine,” I mumble. I look down to my shoes and I can feel her eyes on me. I groan.

“Do you know a really cute freckled-face brunette with hazel eyes?” I ask, sounding pathetically desperate.

“Oh you mean Erna?” Swafa answers. I widen my eyes and look at her. “Who?”

Swafa takes out her phone and soon enough she’s showing me a picture of her and the exact same girl I met at the night of Ivy’s party.

“Y-You know her?” I manage to stutter. Swafa laughs and says, “Why wouldn’t I? We’ve been friends since months ago.”

My eyes are now wide and I’m ruffling my hair with my fingers, the usual thing I do whenever I’m in disbelief. Swafa sees this and asks, “Why, what happened between you and Erna?”

And so I tell her everything, from the night of Ivy Wolf’s party and until today at the football field. “Does she have some kind of story to her?” I ask at the end of my story.

“I don’t know. We haven’t been friends for that long to talk about that kind of stuff,” was Swafa’s reply. I nod anyway despite the fact that I’m distressed by this.

Erna… Who are you?

To be continued in: All the Wrong Steps.

Musician for a Night.

The breakfast bell rung and students get up from their seats to head to the cafeteria. I’m busy cleaning my desk when Ivy Wolf comes to my desk.

“Muhzim,” She says, flashing me her obviously fake smile. She’s done this to me loads of times when she asks for favours. I groan. “What.”

“I’m having a party this weekend,” Ivy tells me, her hand sliding across my table. “A party wouldn’t be a party if there’s no music.”

I sigh. I knew exactly what this girl wanted. “Fine, I’ll come to your party this weekend to play music. Do you want acoustic or rock?”

Ivy’s face lights up at this and she squeals with delight. “Acoustic!”

I nod and she squeals a ‘thank you!’ She scampers out of the classroom where her other friend is waiting for her. I guess she told her friend I’d agreed to play music at her party as they were both squealing with delight.

“You’re really up for it?” My friend, Zafa asks me. I thought he was waiting for me at the cafeteria so this took me by surprise. I glance back at him for a second before continuing my clean up.

“It’s either that or I help my younger sister Swafa with her chemistry homework. We both know I’m smart but explaining chemistry to her is like explaining chemistry to an animal. Trust me, even you’re smarter than her,” I deadpan. Zafa throws a pen at my head and I grin.

We head out of the classroom together. “Did Ivy invite you to the party?” I ask.

Zafa scoffs and says, “You wish. I have no idea why she hates me so much.”

“Maybe she has yet to invite you,” I mumble, shrugging as I speak. Zafa rolls his eyes and tells me, “Her party is this weekend. Muhzim I don’t know if you haven’t noticed but it’s already Friday and yet no invitation. She’s been inviting people since Thursday.”

“Hey, she only invited me, the musician, today. I have yet to figure out good acoustic songs to play at the party,” I remind him.

“I’ll sneak you in if you’d like. Could tell Ivy that I need someone to help with… stuff,” I say. Zafa’s face immediately lights up and I roll my eyes. “Thank you,” he says prolonging the ‘u’. I nod and give him a deadpan look. Nevertheless it makes me feel good to see that I’ve made two people happy under an hour in a day.

…

I grab my guitar and bag and walk towards the door. I grab my hat and as I’m walking out of the house, something grabs my sleeve. I jump and turn to see Swafa, staring at me with her eyes wide opened.

“Hey, Swafa,” I say, trying to hide my fear. After my years of experience Swafa can smell fear apparently. I learn new things every day with her in the house. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” She asks in disbelief. “You were going to help me with my chemistry homework! Miss Jones said I was getting better at chemistry!”

“Sure, and I’m going to marry the Queen of England,” I deadpan, raising an eyebrow. Swafa smacks me on the arm. I grin. “Look, I have a party to go to tonight. I’mma be a musician there. We have Sunday Swafa so I’ll help you then.”

Just as Swafa was about to say something, an antic mustang stops in front of our house with Zafa in the driver seat. Zafa honks and I whisper, “bless that soul.” I grab my guitar, put on my shoes and run towards his mustang. I turn back to Swafa and say, “I promise I’ll help you tomorrow!” Swafa glares at me before going back in the house.

“You came just in time,” I tell Zafa as I climb into the shotgun seat, hugging my guitar to my chest. Zafa smirks and says, “Obviously. Looked like Swafa was about to beat you up.”

“You bet,” I say with a laugh.

“Have you told Ivy about me coming?” Zafa asks as he drives away from my house. My blood runs cold as I remember that I’d totally forgotten about that. Zafa’s staring at me now and he can obviously see that I’ve forgotten.

“Muhzim, what the hell,” he says, smacking the steering wheel as he takes a left turn. I take my phone out from the pocket of my jeans and begin looking for Ivy’s name in my WhatsApp contacts.

“Telling her now,” I say, not looking at Zafa. Zafa curses under his breath and I just grin.

Ivy, sorry for the last minute update but Zafa will be coming along. It’s either the both of us or nothing. I text.

Ivy reads my text instantly and types. Oh god, Muhzim. What the heck? Ugh, fine. Bring him along but make sure he’s on a leech.

Thanks Ivy. Cya there.

I slide my phone back into my pocket. Zafa glances at me and asks, “What did she say?”

“That I had to keep you on a leech,” I say with a laugh. Zafa glares at me and deadpans, “I swear I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

I shake my head and look out the window, letting the sun’s setting glow keep me in awe.

…

Ivy’s party had just begin and she beamed when she saw me although she scowled when she saw Zafa. Zafa only waved his hand meekly before hiding himself behind me. Ivy led us both to where she wanted the music to be.

“She can’t still be mad about the whole 5^th grade incident,” Zafa whispers to me.

“What did you do to her in 5^th grade?” I whisper back.

“I gave her a bruise on her face during camping. We were playing paintball and her mask fell off! How the hell was I supposed to know it was going to fall off right before the deadly ball of paint hit her face?” Zafa whispers loudly. Probably too loud as Ivy stopped in her tracks and glared at Zafa for a few seconds.

“I think she’s going to give you a bruise too tonight,” I whisper despite the tense environment.

“Here’s your stage, boys,” she says, pointing to a mini stage located at one side of the living room. There was a stool and a microphone attached to a microphone stand already prepared for me. I smiled at Ivy and said, “Thanks, Ivy.”

She smiled back at me and walked away. I turn to Zafa and smile, saying, “let’s get started!”

For the next few hours, I sang and played my guitar as Zafa hung out with some other guys at the party. I couldn’t care less honestly as I’d only brought him here in sympathy as he wasn’t invited. As I sang, suddenly, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I took it out and saw a text from Zafa.

Your ex, Qizy, 2 o’clock. He’d texted. I looked up and sure enough there she was, dancing with another guy. Qizy and I’d dated last summer but of course, the typical summer relationships don’t work out and I guess we were one of them. Qizy was like any average high school girl; beautiful, attractive, smart and witty. Alas, those were only outward beauty; inner beauty was and still is what matters.

I tried to lower my hat so that it’d cover my face but it was too late; she’d seen me. She walks over to me with her new guy and I feel like she has a point to make (mind you that I was the one that broke the relationship off, not her).

“Hey, Muhzim!” She says, coming up onto the mini stage. She gave me a hug as I hugged my guitar to my chest. It felt awkward to see Qizy; what more have her hugging me. She lets go of her embrace and I smile awkwardly.

Her new ‘guy’ comes up too and gives my hand a shake, introducing himself. “Jeremy.”

“Muhzim,” I say, shaking his hand back.

“What’re you doing here?” Qizy asks. I give her a deadpan look and gesture at my guitar. “Isn’t it obvious?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

She doesn’t say anything but instead, she nods and says, “Well, we’ll uh, cya!” She awkwardly walks away, taking Jeremy’s hand in hers. Jeremy glances over his shoulder to smile at me and I smile back.

For the next few hours, I play my guitar and sing. Soon, people leave and the party ends. Ivy Wolf pays me 30 dollars but I tell her to keep her money. She hugs me instead and I leave the party without Zafa as he wanted to catch up with an old friend of his.

“Will you be okay walking home?” He asked me. I nodded. He pats me on the shoulder and gets back into Ivy’s house. I put on my hat and sling my guitar over my right shoulder, and walk out of Ivy’s house.

I play a little tune on my guitar as I walk home. It’s around half past ten when suddenly, I see a brunette girl sitting on the sidewalk, crying. I stop playing my guitar and stop in my tracks, staring at her. I walk over to her after a few seconds of standing, and ask, “Are you okay?”

Mind you that I had no idea who this girl was and I was just trying to help. She looked up at me for a few seconds before digging her head back in her knees. “Go away,” her voice was muffled but clear enough for me to hear.

“I could accompany you home, if you want. It isn’t safe you know for a girl to be out at night all alone,” I realized that I sounded like my mother whenever she spoke with Swafa and I absent-mindedly grinned. I realized that I was doing so and I hoped this brunette didn’t see me grinning.

She shrugs and says, “Just leave me alone.”

“It isn’t-”

“Just. Go.” She says fiercely. I close my mouth and get up, walking away. I hug my guitar to my chest. I feel bad to leave the girl alone. God knows what might happen to her. I turn back to see if she was still crying.

But she was gone.

To be continued in: Last Night’s Gal.

Betrayed

Nicole rides in Syimmi’s car while Yura rides his motorcycle, leaving Augustus to ride in his car. The four friends arrive at Harry’s workshop at the same time.

Yura gets off his motorcycle and takes his helmet off, murmuring, “this workshop is literally in the middle of nowhere.”

The windows of the workshop were tinted, giving it an ominous look. Chills went up Yura’s spine and he shuddered. Augustus pats him on the back and Yura jumps with a yelp. “What’s gotten into you?” Augustus asks him with a raised eyebrow. A grin curls Augustus’s lips.

“Come on,” Syimmi says, Nicole beside her. “Let’s get inside.” The two girls step forward towards the workshop. Yura and Augustus look at each other before trailing behind them.

Nicole twists the doorknob and gasps. “It’s not locked,” she whispers to Syimmi. Nicole pushes the door slowly and it creaks, making her heart skip a beat. She opens the door widely and finds Harry’s younger sister sitting on a stool, her right foot crossed over the left. She smiles broadly at the four friends.

“It’s about time,” she says, stepping off the stool. “I’ve been coming here every day just to welcome your arrival. I wouldn’t have done it if Harry hadn’t insisted.”

“What’re we here for, Nina?” Augustus asks, annoyed and creeped out. Nina doesn’t drop her smile. She flips her hair and points to a wooden door located at the end of the workshop.

“That key,” Nina says, pointing to the key in Yura’s hand. “Is for that door. Unlock that door and you’ll fulfil Harry’s last wish.”

Nina walks slowly towards them and whispers, “enjoy.” And with that, she leaves the workshop, closing the door behind her. The four friends stare at each other, not able to get anything out of their mouths.

“Should we?” Syimmi asks.

“Well we’ve come this far, haven’t we?” Yura says, stepping forward and walking towards the door Nina had pointed. The three friends slowly trial behind him.

Yura inserted the key in the keyhole and twisted the key slowly. The door unlocked at Yura gasped. “What’re you waiting for?” Augustus then asked. “Open it!”

Yura’s heart beat at full speed. He shut his eyes and twisted the doorknob, opening the door. Syimmi gasped loudly at the sight of what was behind the door. There laid Yvonne in a pool of blood, her hands chained to the walls and a deep cut in her chest.

“Wh-What?” Yura stammers. He steps back.

“Why would Harry want us to see this?” Augustus whispers his question, his blood running cold. Sweat pour down Nicole’s forehead.

Suddenly, the faint sound of sirens could be heard from afar. The four friends are now alarmed. Yura rushes to the tinted windows and sure enough, he could see police cars in the driveway. He turns back to his friends, his face deadly pale.

“We’ve been framed.”

 -End.