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Chapter 5 - Echoes and Symbols

Echoes and Symbols

After the brutal incident in the schoolyard, the supervisor kept his tone stern but didn't raise his voice again. He eyed each of the boys before letting out a heavy sigh. "Just so you know You won't be heading back to class today" he said. "Go home and Bring your parents tomorrow—every one of you, except Wilkens."

Peterson, Jean-Daniel, and the others exchanged glances. Wilkens gave a small, surprised nod of gratitude. "Thank you sir" Wilkens say.

 The supervisor turned his attention to the four attackers and finally asked their names.

"Gregory," the tallest of them mumbled.

"And last name" The supervisor asked 

"Lafoi sir" 

The others followed.

"Alfred Baptism."

"Tony Petador."

"Jacques Makis ."

The supervisor wrote the names down, then waved them all away. "Go now, And don't make me regret this."

The boys left the office one by one, each carrying their own thoughts. Jean-Daniel muttered under his breath, clearly not done with the adrenaline in his system. Wilkens lagged behind a little, keeping his gaze low as if the weight of the day was finally sinking in.

Outside, the schoolyard had returned to a normal buzz. The other students were in class, the distant hum of recitation and chalk on blackboards filling the background. But for Peterson, the day was far from ordinary, His body ached so bad, not just from the fight but from the pressure of everything that's been building up lately.

When he reached home, his mother was in the kitchen cutting tomatoes and turned around to welcome him home and noticed the bruises right away, she stopped what she was doing with eyes wide open "What happened to you Peterson " she gasped, rushing over with a damp rag. Peterson winced but didn't pull away.

 "It was just a little thing at school," he said softly.

She stared at him, torn between concern and disappointment.  "This doesn't look like a little thing like you said , you have blood on your uniform and they're torn, will the ones done that to get punished ?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yes."

She sighed, pressing the cloth to his forehead. "You have to tell me if things aren't going well at school, I don't want you to carry any burden by yourself" she said.

"Okay, Mom, don't worry I'm fine, i promise. "

She smiled lightly ,but felt sad for her son, wishing she had money and take him to a private school .

Later that night, Peterson lay in his bed, his limbs still sore and his head buzzing with thoughts. He held his phone loosely, scrolling without really paying attention of what he was looking at, until a message popped up. It was from Naëlle.

"Hey! Pete, I almost forgot I have your number, by the way, I saw everything from the window. Are you doing okay?"

He stared at the message, a rush of emotion hitting him." She saw me fighting? All of it? Damn it " A Part of him wanted to just vanish. But Another part of him, one he didn't fully understand, felt seen like he matters to others.

"I'm alright, Just a little sore, but hey! Thanks for asking that was so kind of you." he replied.

"You're very brave, jumping in like a hero like that, Just wanted you to know that." she answered almost instantly.

He didn't know how to respond. So he simply stared at the screen, reading her words over and over.

But ended up writing something. 

" Thanks again, I'm going to bed now ,have a goodnight Naëlle. "

She replied " Goodnight Pete" 

Much Later that night Across town, Peterson, Jean-Daniel and Wilkens sat by a street merchant who made fried marinad and (banan peze) which is fried plantains. The air was thick with the smell of hot oil, spices, and charcoal smoke. The flickering fire cast dancing shadows over the cart.

"I'm telling you," Jean-Daniel said, rubbing his jaw, "Gregory fights like he got cement in his fists, that bastatd."

Wilkens chuckled, handing over some cash to the merchant. "This one on me tonight guys."

Peterson raised an eyebrow. "You sure bro?, I have some spare change I can collaborate."

"Yeah no worries. I don't pay rent. I can buy y'all dinner once in a while, It's no biggy."

Jean-Daniel and Peterson looked at each other, a little sheepish.

"Next time, it's on us," Peterson said.

"For real, and don't you say no when we do" added Jean-Daniel. "on top of that ,You already paid for the painkillers earlier."

They sat on makeshift stools, eating quietly, savoring each bite of the hot, greasy food. The tension from earlier had faded, replaced with a strange sense of brotherhood.

"You think we'll get suspended?" Wilkens asked between bites.

"I hope not" Jean-Daniel replied. "If they were gonna do that, they would've already. But we still gotta show up with our folks, or they'll think we don't take it serious."

As they wrapped up the meal, they watched a group of little kids playing with bottle caps and chalk. Laughter echoed down the alley.

"Life's simple when you're that small," Wilkens mused.

"Too simple," said Jean-Daniel. "They don't know what it's like yet."

They finished the last bites, thanked the merchant, and stood to leave.

"Alright boys ,See y'all tomorrow," Peterson said.

"Bright and early, with parents, oh wait i don't need to bring mines " Wilkens replied with a grin.

They parted ways under the streetlights.

Peterson walked alone through the maze of cracked sidewalks and flickering lamps. The city hummed softly at night—distant radios playing kompa, dogs barking from behind fences, the sound of mopeds buzzing down alleys.

Then something shimmered in the corner of his eye.

"Wait ! What is that ? He muttered "

A puddle by a broken curb caught the flicker of a nearby bulb. He stepped closer, a little curious.

In the water he can see something metallic, half-submerged. He bent down, brushing aside debris and murky liquid.

"A necklace!! Did someone dropped it."

The pendant was unlike anything he'd ever seen—two snakes circling three skulls merged together at the temples, the eyes glowing a faint green even under the dull street lamp.

It pulsed faintly.

As soon as he touched it, a cold spike ran through his fingers, up his arm, then deep into his spine. The world seemed to twist. His vision blurred.

"Wait! No I'm about to faint, this is not good"

Whispers shimmers around him.

He heard them, Not voices, but echoes. Not words, but something he couldn't understand, His breathing grew shallow. His knees buckled.

And then—

Darkness.

Peterson collapsed beside the puddle, the necklace clutched tightly in his hand.

A soft green glow remained under his curled fingers, barely visible in the night.

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