Bad ➰Michael Jackson

Part 12

                            Part 12

Daryl, Max and Arnold leave before Shaka's mother comes home. They called down at the station to complain about the treatment they were given and were told to come down in person to write a statement the next day. They were still upset about it but having no other choice, agrees. She ends up locking herself up in her room, not in the mood to be bothered by anyone. Her mother came in and asked her what was wrong, but she blew her off, making sure to keep her face cleverly hidden.

She remains this way for the next couple of days, hiding out in her bedroom until the day Daryl would have to leave comes.

The night before however she sneaks over to his house, nimbly climbing up the fire escape and knocking on his window. A few seconds past by and then the curtain ruffles to reveal Daryl's smooth face. He holds his finger in the air then disappears, coming back a second later and jerking the window up. She hefts her leg over and he grabs her arm, helping her in.

"Thanks." She mumbles.

Daryl shuts the window after her and closes his curtain.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, turning back to face her and taking a seat on his bed. Shaka shrugs as she removes her coat gloves and hat.

"Wanted to see you before you left." She says, taking a glance at his packed suitcase resting by the door. She frowns before turning her eyes away, sitting down at the end of the bed.

Daryl smiles, his hair a ruffled mess and his body clothed in pajama gear. He flicks a curl away from his face. "You shouldn't be walking the streets this late. What if something happened to you?"

She shrugs again, tucking her bottom lip in her mouth and choosing not to respond. Daryl waits a moment for her to say something and when he realizes she wasn't going to say anything at all, he gets up from the bed and walks over to his desk, picking up a small black box.

"Here." He says, standing in front of her and holding it out to her. She frowns and reaches out for the box, taking it and holding it in her hands.

"Go on, open it." He urges when she just sits there looking at it.

She glances up at him then back at the box, taking her slim fingers and removing the lid. As the lid comes off, her face becomes blank, her eyes focused on the object.

"It's a necklace. As soon as I saw it, I thought of you. It was surrounded by all these heart and stars necklaces, just in the middle looking out of place." Daryl chuckles self consciously when she doesn't speak, rambling a bit.

"Not saying you're out of place, but you remind me of a storybook. I mean-you have this aura that speaks of something else."

Mogadishu. As soon as Daryl says that, Shaka thinks of her home in Somalia and the fact that everyone around her knows about her accent and heritage besides him. He's yet to meet her mother but when he does, she knows he's gonna have some questions. Like why have they known each other for more than a month and the subject of why she could speak in another language never came up. Like ever.

"Oh." She mumbles, a sinking feeling filling her stomach.

Daryl puts his hands behind his back, looking between her and the box apprehensively. "So do you like it?"

She looks back down at the necklace, swallowing away the knot in her throat. "I love it." She whispers.

It was beautiful. It was the size of a quarter and was silver, the chain and the ornament. On the face of the circle was the carving of a lions side profile, mouth open in the middle of a roar and mane flowing freely. It was gorgeously simple. Like her.