A good day to be Alive

Content note: violence

I shouldn't have been there. The shot cracked the quiet, and blood bloomed across the rug.

The boy with the green eyes looked straight at me-and smiled.

- - -

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz--

I was dead asleep until my excuse of a best friend shook me awake so hard my brain rattled.

"Izzy, I love you, but what the hell were you thinking?"

Isabella-Izzy for short-is Egyptian-Kurdish.

Hazel eyes, long wavy light-brown hair with purple streaks, about 5′5″. And she has both top and bottom of her ears pierced, with silver studs. Gorgeous. Also, elite-level annoying when she wants to be.

"Hey... can you help me put my hair up in a high ponytail?" asked the girl who drifted in wearing an oversized shirt-long blonde hair, huge blue eyes, dimples for days.

Sarah is absolutely adorable.

"Sure. Sit," I said, grabbing a thick brush. Her hair was surprisingly dense for a blonde, and she melted a little as I worked through it, smoothing the sides and tying it high.

Me? I'm Bunmi. Black braids, warm medium-brown skin with a natural golden glow, dark brown eyes, black-rimmed glasses.

A regular girl of a Nigerian and of Japanese descent. 

My dad is Japanese and my mother is born and bred Nigerian. 

Perfectly normal next to two accidental supermodels.

We'd moved in together for our last year of sixth form. Parents grumbled; we did it anyway. Self-sufficient since.

And full disclaimer, we are all 18 year olds. Sarah turned eight the latest though. 

I stretched, ready to face the word I hate-school-and clocked the room: purple and black. Izzy's. Right, I'd crashed here.

She stood there in uniform, clearly unimpressed. "Morning, Izzy!" I chirped.

"Don't 'good morning' me. Do you know what time it is?" she said in full mum mode.

I checked the digital clock: 08:20. Exactly the time I should have been out of the house.

I sprinted to the bathroom, brushed teeth, face wash, scrub, rinse. Speedrun mode.

Ding-ding.

Doorbell.

No time. We bolted downstairs. I yanked the door open and nearly smashed into a chest. Hands landed on my shoulders, steadying me.

"Sorry," I said, already pivoting to flee, when a hand settled on my head and gently turned me back. I looked up into very light, ice-blue eyes, platinum-blond hair, black suit.

Dani.

Short for Daniel.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" I asked, smiling.

"I came to pick you girls up. But I see headless chickens instead. Did you forget school starts at 1 p.m. today?" he said.

Jaw: dropped. Yep. Forgot.

He smiled. "Go back inside and eat."

Izzy peeked around me. "What time is the bus leav-oh. Hi, Daniel. When did you get here?"

"I'm guessing you forgot too," he sighed. She nodded and retreated. We followed.

We gathered around the kitchen table.

"Have you girls eaten?" he asked.

Grrrrrrr-

Our stomachs answered. He checked his watch.

"Omelettes with stir-fried veg and toast-we've got time," he murmured, rolling up his sleeves.

"Thanks, mum," we chorused. He eye-rolled and washed his hands.

Daniel is our super reliable, 23-year-old childhood friend. Mine, technically-I grew up in London. He and his uncle were always kind. These days I rarely see the uncle. Daniel visits when he can, busy with, you know, graduating in criminal law like a serious person. Also: best cook in the house, even if I'm decent.

- - -

FLASHBACK - 10 YEARS AGO

"Daniel, how do you make this?" Eight-year-old me held up a magazine photo of crêpes.

He tapped his chin, set out ingredients, and told me to wash my tiny hands. I couldn't reach the mixing bowl on the top shelf. He lifted me so I could grab it.

"Flour, sugar, pinch of salt," he said. "Make a well. Egg. Mix. Now slowly add milk. Melted butter."

He cooked. I handled condiments. He liked lemon and sugar-boring. I went chaotic neutral with chocolate, peanut butter, and jam.

"Go on, that stack's yours," he said, sliding me three crêpes.

"Thank you, Dani!" I hugged him. He patted my head.

He would make a fine house-wife someday.

I said laughing to myself as I used my fork to dig in.

"Watch it," he teased. "I can tell you're mocking me in that tiny head."

Best day.

- - -

PRESENT

"Here you go-three omelettes, veg, and toast," Daniel said.

"These look amazing. Thanks, Dani!" Sarah squealed, digging in.

"Thank you. This is making my mouth water," Izzy added.

I was already halfway done.

"-and thank you for the meal, Daniel," I said when they stared. He laughed. I'm not great with the pleasantries. He's used to it.

We chatted until eleven; then he drove us to school. We talked the whole way. Daniel listened, parked, and sat with me a moment.

"How long this time?" I asked.

He sighed. "Was it that obvious?"

"You only spend this much time with us if you're about to disappear."

"Three weeks," he said.

Ouch. I'd miss him. I'd survive.

"I'll be back before you know it. Lock the doors and windows at night," he said, hugging me.

We went to our form room. Quiet. Everyone doing their own thing. I sat up front with the girls, putting on my Best Behaviour Face. Last year-no detentions. That was the dream.

Our tutor walked in. I blinded him with a smile.

"What do you want, Bunmi? You've been smiling for a while. Are you ill?" he asked.

Snickers behind me.

Keep it together, BUNMI.

"No, sir. Doing well, thank you," I said.

"Look, we've been the main characters of this place for seven years," Izzy muttered. "You can't fool anyone."

It killed me to say but she was absolutely correct.

The day rolled by. Fast. Blessedly drama-lite.

After, we headed for the bus.

"Today flew by, right?" I said. They nodded.

We walked the 0.1 miles to the stop, and I let my brain wander. Mum moved abroad with my siblings a few years ago. Dad's still in London. It's... fine. I'll visit when I can. After I get into the University of Ashya. I just need to study like a maniac.

"So what do you think?" Sarah asked as we waited to cross.

"About what?"

"Let my uncle check our personal statements. He runs a successful business."

It made sense, but... last time, the man was a beady-eyed fossil who treated me and Izzy like gum on his shoe and Sarah like a princess. Still. We could keep her company.

We took the AZ9 instead of our usual B6.

The mansion loomed when we got off.

Sarah's parents had been loaded. Until they died. Tragic doesn't cover it. Izzy's dad had money too, which she inherited when he passed. Her mum remarried rich; they don't speak.

Somehow I met these two heiresses as kids and never escaped. Found family.

We used one of those heavy gothic ring knockers. The butler opened up; we stepped into a ridiculous hallway. No children live here. He built this palace for himself. Paintings of... acts... that did not need to be immortalised on canvas stared back at me.

"Uncle, are you in your office?" Sarah called.

"Is that you, Sarah?" came the reply.

We entered to find two... professionals... perched on either side of him. Outfits: minimal. Lipstick prints on his neck.

Izzy and I exchanged a look. Wtf.

"Thank you, ladies. See yourselves out. The butler will handle the usual fee," he said smoothly.

Sleaze. Sarah, bless her loyal heart, missed every red flag.

"Uncle Eailo, can you look at our personal statements?" she asked, offering a USB.

"For my favourite niece-of course," he said, dragging a spare chair to his desk. "But not long. I have a gathering tonight."

"What kind of party?" Sarah asked.

"Just friends," he said with a smile that made my skin crawl.

Message received: he's helping her. We already knew.

Izzy and I retreated to BFlix. One movie later it was 19:00.

"This is too late. We've got school," I said. Sarah blinked like she was waking up.

"We'll visit this weekend," she told him, kissing his cheek.

"Did you get everything?" I asked as we left.

She nodded.

We walked back to the stop. "Let's all sleep in Izzy's bed," Sarah said. "We can gossip. Trudor was staring at you again."

"Who?" I asked.

"Orange hair. Love letter. Two years ago," Izzy said.

"Ah. I erased him from my memory," I said. They chuckled.

"I don't dislike him. I'm just... forgetful."

The bus arrived as we laughed out.

It's only 19:15 and already dark.

Classic UK November.

Home. Showers. Matching pyjamas. Bowls of cereal. Code Lyoko. Peak culture.

We were queuing the next episode when Sarah stood up. "I just remembered-I need that USB from my uncle's."

We paused the show.

She could go alone. She'd left it.

"Guysss, it has my personal statement," she pleaded.

I sighed. This is why I tell her to double-check.

"I'll go. You two stay. Make me hot chocolate for when I get back," I said.

"It's 23:00," Sarah said, worried.

"It's our town. Nothing happens here," I said. Nothing that hits the nine o'clock news, anyway.

I pulled on black jeans, a blue sweater, trainers. "Lock the door," I said. They nodded.

The streets were emptying. Nearly midnight. The last bus crawled up; I sprinted and tapped my student card, out of breath, and stared out the window all the way.

I arrived around 00:30.

The mansion thumped with music. I needed to avoid Uncle Sleaze.

Sarah said there was a secret passage. I found it-loose bricks, a squeeze-and tumbled into his private library. The office was next door.

The USB stuck out of his laptop like it wanted to be rescued. I reached for it-footsteps. I yanked the drive, slid under the desk, peering through a knot-hole in the wood.

Uncle Eailo staggered in, someone's hand clamped around his throat. The other person raised a gun.

A gun. In the UK.

An illegal handgun. The kind you don't talk about.

Boom.

One shot. Something heavy hit the floor. His legs stopped moving.

Sarah's going to be devastated.

I clapped a hand over my mouth. Breathe, Bunmi.

Thump thump, thump

I could feel my heart beat against my chest.

Sunddenly i noticed it.

Blood soaked the carpet.

I couldn't hear the killer's footsteps anymore.

But,

I felt eyes on me. I turned.

Someone crouched to my level, peering into my hiding spot. Bright green eyes. Warm olive skin. Ruffled black hair. Dimples cutting into his cheeks. Pink mouth. A slash of blood on his face.

He smiled at me like this was an amusing situation.

"You know, it's not nice to peep, pretty lady," he said.

I couldn't move.

"Get out from under there," he said, standing.

I nodded, slid Sarah's USB into my pocket, and crawled out.

I stood. He was taller up close. The smile didn't reach his eyes.

He looked me over before locking eyes with me again.

We looked at each other.

- - -

End of Chapter 1

(A/N

Background music: "Let the World Burn" by Chris Grey [slowed] + "Messy" by Rosé / "Hypnotic" by Zella Day)