Rats, Roses And Paper Bones

Chapter 30: She did not just do that!

It was a dry, sunny Tuesday afternoon, and the harmattan had arrived in full force.

By the time I stepped out of the hostel, my skin was ashy enough to pass for powdered sugar, while my light hostel wear clung to my body for dear life.

I had no idea what kind of weather phenomenon that was.

All I knew was that I hated it.

I was on my way out of my sister's hostel, where I'd gone to check on her, as I did at least twice a week.

This time, however, she didn't look too good.

That didn't exactly catch me off guard.

During the cold and dry season, it was perfectly normal to find my sister sneezing and coughing like a goat and breathing like she'd just run a marathon.

She was asthmatic, as I'd mentioned before, so harmattan wasn't exactly her favourite season.

Thankfully, she had medication for situations like this.

Unfortunately, they were in my custody.

"Don't skip your meals."

I tore a couple of tablets from their packets and handed them to her.

She was curled up on her bed, sniffling miserably.

"Blah, blah, blah," she muttered, taking the medication.

"I'm serious."

I folded my arms.

"I know you don't like beans, but you're going to have to eat whatever they give you. Your medication isn't going to do much if you keep starving yourself."

She rolled her eyes.

"And keep your inhaler with you at all times."

"Whatever, Mommy."

She sneezed immediately after.

I stared at her.

"You're so irresponsible."

She groaned.

"How do you manage to go to class without your sweater when I've told you a hundred times to keep it with you?"

"I told you, I forgot it in the hostel."

"Exactly. Don't let it happen again."

She rolled her eyes again.

I sighed.

I had somehow become responsible for keeping this girl alive.

And she was making my job unnecessarily difficult.

As if her habit of getting into trouble wasn't enough, she was still involved in the whole Death Note situation.

She hadn't been completely cleared yet.

And now another note had appeared just yesterday.

"Speaking of Mommy," Dara said, "did you tell her I'm sick?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"She said you can't come home."

"Damn it!"

I frowned.

"Watch your language."

"Not even for a visit?"

"Nope."

She fell back onto her pillow dramatically.

"Maybe I'll just pretend to faint. Then she'll come."