To Kill Like Santa

11

As you exited the house, your phone rang and the door closed behind you. George. You picked.

“Hello,”

“What's up?” George said.

“Nothing... What about you?”

“I am driving into the estate.”

“Now?”

“I want to see Manda. I bought her something.”

“Driving? To see Manda?”

“Yea, my mum is not around. Using her car.”

“Okay...” You curiously stretched it.

“I just wanted to tell you?"

“At least i will see the gift.”

“How?”

“Going to Manda's house.”

“No, don't be there and make things awkward.”

“George, I was already going there.”

He didn't reply and his distant voice seemed to be replying the security at the gate. “Yes, I am on the list. Thank you.” His voice came back strong, “Since when did you start meeting Manda? Just keep off. Please...”

He hung up.

The night was not dense and you could see the colours of the neighboring houses, except those down the street that remained a silhouette. John's house was the only house with a gate. The gate was short and did nothing to preserve privacy.

You stood before Manda's house, knuckles above door, pondering whether to knock or not. The porch light kept you on spot. You decided not and stepped down the short stairs to the aisle between a lawn. The aisle was hedged with purple hibiscus.

You were stuck, unsure of your next action, and as you pondered the next possible action of which going back home weighed more, you jolted in response to the loud bang that echoed. You ducked beside the purple hibiscus.

Apparently, John just emerged from his front door, and the sound, amid jerking you, prompted the neighbor's room light to flick on, and curtains to shift aside with curious eyes peering. Mrs Metuonu's voice followed after him, audible from where ever she was. “And don't come back to this house! spoilt child!” Then a door inside banged.

John had a black hood over his head. His both hands were buried in his pocket and his legs moved briskly, almost running. Scratch that, he started running and shouting. As he ran through, lights turned on in the flanking houses and silhouettes peeped through curtains.

You watched him until he arrived the junction ahead and turned right. That way led towards the recreational centre. At the far end of the street, you saw a headlight creeping up. You followed John.

The recreational centre was barricaded by a short fence that could be sat on.

Apart from the dim bulbs mounted on short poles that were lined intermittently, and the moon above, nothing else emitted light in the centre. The seesaw, slides, and Merry Go Round were silhouetted. But as your eyes roamed about, you saw that a figure sat on a swing, and a phone in use emitted light too.

The entrance into the centre was locked. You hopped over the short fence and your legs sank into the beach-like sand.

Your knees felt like they would yield as you strode toward the figure on the swing. You knew it was John. His gaze rose to you and your pulse added speed. You miss-stepped and kicked your heel and crashed to the soft sand. You would stand sooner or later but before you chose the latter, you wondered why he didn't stand to help you up. A gentleman was supposed to. Maybe, he was the type of boy that would cut one's heart for soup.