181 Days of Madeline Jesty

Chapter 63: Transactional Relationship

I almost allowed panic to set in me if not for Mrs. Cecilia's presence. I thanked her and then turned away, biting my lip as I walked back to the multipurpose building. In my head were unpleasant scenarios about what could've happened to Mickey and Mrs. Angie, and taking them off my mind was impossible unless I would do something about it.

We hadn't finished packing relief goods yet when I messaged Troy to pick me up in thirty minutes. Iola and Steph saw me in a rush, but they didn't ask. My aura might have given a vibe that I couldn't be approached at that time.

Once Troy had arrived to fetch me, I grabbed my things and got in the vehicle. I didn't even say goodbye to Iola and Steph. My mind was in chaos.

Where are you, Mickey? I frantically thought, biting my nail as I tried to clear my mind. There was only one place I could think of—the abandoned house.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and remembered the directions to the abandoned house. Troy took a lot of turns before the road finally became familiar. He probably noticed I was totally stressed out.

"There!" I shouted. My heart jumped in excitement when I saw a motorcycle parked in front of the house. When Troy pulled into the side of the road, I hurriedly opened the door and dashed toward the house, yelling their names.

"Mickey! Mrs. Angie!" I called, my voice bouncing around the field.

Mickey showed up at the opening of the house, wearing a very loose fit shirt, dark green shorts, and sandals. Mrs. Angie followed behind her, surprised that I was there.

Waves of relief washed over me the moment I got closer to Mickey. We wrapped each other in a tight, and if Troy and Mrs. Angie weren't there, I could've kissed her.

"I swear to God," I whispered. "I will fucking buy you a phone. Don't you fucking make me worry like this again."

She chuckled and tapped the back of my head. "Why? Miss me? Am your girlfriend now?"

"Shut up." I freed myself from the hug, gently and jokingly pushing her while also stealing at Mrs. Angie for her reaction. But her mother just stood behind us with a hint of relief in her expression.

"Just taking my chances," Mickey replied, smiling. She also waved at Troy, who stayed in the car. "How did you know I was here?"

"Just a hunch. But, you mean, you stayed here during the storm?"

Mickey shook her head. "Y-yeah, about that . . ."

I raised a brow, feeling that she was hesitating to say something. Mrs. Angie also seemed to give her a push by giving her a nudge.

"What?"

Rubbing her nape, she let out a sigh and finally confessed, "Jane took us in,"

"Oh" was all I could say. I felt a pang in my heart, but I didn't want to admit I was hurt. Why would I be? What right did I have?

"B-but w-we stayed in another house. A small one. She asked Mr. Ganymede—"

"It's okay," I muttered under my breath, interrupting her speech. Taking a deep breath, I faced her with a faint smile and changed the topic before I lost control of my emotions. "I was worried sick when you didn't go to school today. But, you mean, Jane didn't let you go to school?"

"I can't. Ma and I have only saved a few clothes. I can't go to school with a dirty uniform. Everyone will know."

I wanted to argue that no one would care, but deep down, I wasn't sure either. Being a scholar in our school meant that they had hidden potential that the school could use in the future and that a family member worked there, though they couldn't afford the education the institution offered. Scholars were often subjected not only to prejudice but also to the pressure of having to prove that they were worth the spot.