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Todos os capítulos de She Belongs To The Sky: Capítulo 41 - Capítulo 50

126 Capítulos

The Now: Chideziri POV

A whisper of words, that's what it begins as. Then slowly, ever so slowly, it creeps, then crawls into a formidable tempo that can turn heads. A smile bright as any street light in this crazy city Suns up Amanda's face. Resplendent in its rays, beaming directly on my face. I wonder why they even bother with all these solar powered lamp posts lining the alleys and walkways, when a single person can make-up the whole town in glowing, scintillating shades o'brown and white. "Oh my God! This is my song!" She shrieks. I don't recognize the song until Falz's voice seeps out of the home-theatre speaker, loud and accented, and confident in its pitch. YahWhat if I ask you to marry me?Born for meJe ka ride till eternityWhat if I say there's no plan B?Say I ready to come in to meet the familyComeWhat if I already planned it? I find myself being hauled back into the hou

The Now: Amanda POV

That Disc Jockey knows his stuff. The cheer is a roar, and it is a combination of hollering and lip-synching. Soon the party is alive again. Abe leaps out of his seat, startling Ahmed wide awake. He bounds into the quickly converging crowd and screams "Gimme space, make I no kill person!" then he does that swaying dance he does, with his knees bent in a crouching stance, his arms moving as if he's rocking some big Madam's hip. SMH........ We are immediately caught up in a tide of skin—russet, honey, latte, cinnamon, umber, whatever. Sweaty, dry, oiled, perfumed; it doesn't matter. We all are just skin. What matters is the now. The damp heat that isn't even a little uncomfortable, the screams of "She say A-ye, No lele", the energized air forcing birr down my burning windpipe, the touch of strangers arms and bodies and vibes on mine. That's all that has an iota of meaning in this now. And this now.....this moment...it's covered

The Now: Chideziri POV

Even Chantelle gets into the fray. It's that dope. I've been thinking on what Tobi says about the brother of a fool being a fool. Judging by the crazy dancing I see I say my friends are fools. Big time. And If it makes any sense, then i am one, too. And I couldn't care less. I want to be a fool for life, if I get to keep these ones, if by some chance, fate doesn't reappear to tear our clique apart after this stage of our lives. I am aware that there are few re-beginnings and fewer happy endings, but these moments—these minut bursts of light are all I'm certain of.

The Now: Amanda POV

There are only three words for what we are:Young. Wild. Free. Snoop and wiz khalifa said it all. I get the feeling that this is what being a teenager should be like. That songs were made to be sang out loud, with lungs fresh from Heaven's factory. Life—to be experienced in an uncontrollable atomic fashion constituted by bursts of unbridle-able energy. The air—to be inhaled without thought or obligations or responsibilities; released, unshackled, worry-less, unchained—free. Young. Wild. Free. Until our eyes are fixed beyond the sun, our nostrils will know less roses than our skins the thorns. Life is as complex as a pendulum tossed to and from opposing extremes. Though the storm rocks our boats and the gentle wind eases our rows, our peace still ebbs and flows, because until our eyes are fixed beyo

Post-Euphoria: Amanda POV

Trouble as defined by an English dictionary: A distressful or dangerous situation. Trouble as defined by Me: Bad shit that ambushes us at the worst possible times, when we least expect it. That's how it creeps up on us, stealthily. Then in a whoosh of air, it lands heavily on Abe's jaw. The punch rocks Abe's chin and throws him off balance. The petite babe he was practically humping shrieks and scampers away. "Gee," Abe growls, he spits on the tile "who be you?" The guy that hit him stands over him glowering. The music's volume is turned down to its lowest immediately, only its beat remains. It sounds lonely, unaccompanied by the coarse pitch of Kizz's voice. "Oboy c'mon wida you, you dey jons?" he sparks. He sounds like a frog on a rainy night. Abe wipes his mouth with the back of his palm and straightens to his full height, glaring the guy down. They are nearly the same height but where Abe is burly, frog-guy i

Post-Euphoria: Chideziri POV

One of the many unspoken rules of PH city everybody and their mamas know is that when you are in a place, and boys start speaking strange pidgin and sizing up one another or breaking bottles, you need to get out of there, and you need to do so quickly. I can't though. Bro code says so. Rule number one: Never let a brother go to war alone. Rule number four: Never leave a brother behind. It couldn't get any worse. I swear to God, Amadioha, Idemili, Ala, Anyanwu—every bit of divinity that cares to listen infact—if Abe gets us killed, I will resurrect him, just so i kill him myself. Abe punches the gee on his throat, and he staggers back, spluttering and spitting. Someone screams in the crowd and they disperse in a surge, on the brink of a stampede. The ruckus creates a rift between the guy and his backups, a small chasm of flowing bodies and for an instant he is alone. Abe follows up the fou

Post-Euphoria: Amanda POV

Abe didn't get himself killed after all, as hard as he tried. That's some consolation. I think of neither the fight nor consolations on the ride home. There were still some taxis zooming on the highway at that time, even as young as the morning was. Chideziri shoved Chantelle and I into the first one that stopped. The cab dropped me off at home and I wave Chantelle good-bye. She was still glued to her phone. She seemed happier at the party, lighter, less like a scared child. I liked that. I think of Chideziri sliding his hand into his hair and pulling at a single stubborn kink. I think of Pascal rolling up the sleeves of his GAP sweater. I think of Abe, just before the fight, I think of how he moved care freely, the mad vibe he gave off. I think of Chantelle's laughter, rare and wonderful. I think of the lights, how you won't think that crimson could be so lively. I replay the night in my mind when I climb the steps, till when I turn the key in the lock. I don't notice the dis

Then we imploded

Anger isn't always an outspoken emotion, but it always is a dangerous one. Dad's anger uncoils rapidly, in increasing degrees of piss-tacity, like a boa constrictor disentangling itself from an oak. He stares at me slack jawed. Even the black shadow that has pooled around his feet under the flame of the bulb and stretched toward me looks incredulous. They both stay there staring, still as rock."Amanda? " his tone is even more flabbergasted. He wore one of those his plus sized t-shirts that smell new and look old. It has a faded picture of an isle emblemed on its chest and i can see the links of the gold chain on his neck catch the light and sparkle above the cloth's fraying collar. He never takes that necklace off, ever. He even wears it into the bathroom, when he wants to take a shower. It's gold, plus it has his and Mum's wedding bands as its pendant. Gold upon gold. "Amanda is that you?" . "Yes Daddy? Daddy welcome." I manage.

Then we imploded: Chideziri POV

Amanda hasn't come online since we crashed the party. I'm thinking it's her battery. Or she has no data. Both of which are remediable if I knew which. Abe has been online, however, more than usual. Mostly, he's angry—at whom I don't know. How he is throwing shade online you'd think he sells sunglasses, i swear. He's there, talking about: They tried to put me down. But I came. I saw. I conquered. (Fire emoji)#undefeated. The guy is a joker. If Pascal and I hadn't showed up when we did, we'd be talking of how we should go about embalming him. I shut my trap though, lest he turn on me. I don't have strength for beef now. I am still lying there, on the sofa in the parlour, swinging my feet and laughing at his rants when Mumsi comes in. As soon as she showed up, she asked me a question, at the doorstep while I was still trying to haul in her numberless bags. Take a wild guess. "Have you eaten?" or "how are you?" are t

The Process Of Chasing You: Chideziri POV

Tom drums always lead the march. They are not the largest, or the most domineering. Basses, with their hollow echoes that bounce back from all corners of the space, making the place seem like one large bubble, coveted that position. They are neither the most impressive nor ear-catching; that is a privilege known only to the whistling rattles of snares. No, they are not. Still, tom drums lead the march. When they call, every one else answers, without pause, without question. That precisely is why I chose the tom. We are on the field, every last Little feater in the secondary section, outside. Blades of manicured spear grass swish gently beneath our hooves, the belated silver afternoon sun directly in our eyes, blazing off the linen white of our bright green blazers. It drizzled hours before, a weightless shower that descended in slanted spears. The swishing grass at our feet is humid with beads of the sky's tears. After-rain s

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