The Retribution Chronicles

A d e | t h r e e

Ade woke with a blistering headache made worse by Daniel's off-key rendition of a Whitney Huston ballad he had no business butchering. His voice grew while Ade shuffled towards their kitchen, swelling to an indefinite point until it crashed and burned, leaving Daniel rocking a sheepish grin and Ade a scowl. "I'm making eggs," he said as if it made up for the tone-deaf crooning.

Ade's scowl deepened and he stepped towards the stove. "I'll make the eggs."

"Why? My eggs are far superior."

Being the eldest of three taught Ade several things, namely to ignore other's delusions. Living with Daniel served only to strengthen the lesson, especially when, up until two months ago, he was liable to burn pasta and make thin, gruel-like rice which doubled, or really only, served as glue. And yet, despite his history of kitchen woes, or maybe because of it, Daniel seemed to think he was the Gordon Ramsey of eggs. So, Ade backed off, hands raised, and stationed himself beside the fridge, glancing down to check Daniel returned the fire extinguisher to its rightful home beside the dustpan and brush.

"Did you find that girl?" Daniel asked as he cracked a speckled egg into a still cold pan. "You know, the one from last night."

"No."

"Mad. Ryan said she has a boyfriend."

Ryan also proclaimed that Tupac was alive, and the illuminati was real, so Ade said, "Ryan doesn't know shit."

"Maybe, but he did see her leave with Wes last night."

"Wes?" Ade raised an eyebrow. "As in Wes Wes?"

"Yeah."

"So?" Wes may have been many things, but competition he was not. At least not anymore. "I left with that first year."

"And you had sex with her." Daniel waved the spatula until there was a trail of olive oil around his feet.

"Yes, but she's not my girlfriend."

"I don't get you," Daniel laughed good-naturedly. "You put all this time and effort into chasing girls, and then never stop to enjoy it."

"Trust me," Ade grinned, "I enjoy it. And you would too if you just—"

"I love Abi." There was no shame in Daniel's voice. No whiff of embarrassment. Not even a well-deserved lick of mortification. In fact, there was nothing, that is if you don't count the sour taste of truth. One which had become the bane of Ade's life. That is unless it would finally come in handy.

"Do you think Abisola knows her?" Ade asked.

"There are thousands of students," Daniel said between his attempts to flip the egg. It stuck to the pan, leaving flecks of blackened flesh and brown crispy edges in its unsalted, overly firm, wake. "I doubt Abi would know her," he continued, undeterred, "and even if she did, she wouldn't give you her number."

Bane.

"You're doing it wrong." Ade stepped forward. Daniel raised a hand for all of two seconds before side-stepping out of the way, leaving a clear path to the stove and the now smoking sunny side ups. Ade filled the space quickly, disposed of Daniel's crime, and oiled the pan. He cracked an egg once the oil was hissing and watched the translucent liquid turn opaque.

Unsurprisingly, Ade cooked double the number of eggs in half the time. He served them with toast and grilled tomatoes.

"Fancy," Daniel grinned when Ade handed a plate over.

Ade resisted the urge to roll his eyes and followed Daniel towards the living room, where they collapsed into the plush grey sofa cushions in sync. "I bet Abisola knows her," Ade said with a grimace. He hated to admit it, but she seemed to know everyone. That is everyone who made up the potential membership of Eastford's burgeoning ACS.