The boy next door

Chapter Thirty Four: Dirty Messages

Yes, you might not be hearing of the #blacklivesmatter movement as much now, but that doesn't mean we should stay silent. This is a worldwide issue we have to fight for, together. Keep signing petitions, keep educating yourself, and most importantly; keep fighting. This won't end unless we work together.

Love you x
*********

Also, Yemen is currently suffering the worst humanitarian crisis in the world. Yemen is on the brink of becoming the worst famine in the world. As of now, over 24 million citizens are in need of our help and our aid. Mothers, fathers, and children are dying. COVID 19 cases are rising and getting worse every day.

What can we do?

We can sign petitions, help use our social media platforms to spread this terrifying crisis, and donate to charities that support, help, protect and most likely—save— Yemen.

Please take time out of your day to help and educate yourself on both cases ❤️

*************************************

Chapter Thirty Four: Dirty Messages

"About time", I complained.

Benny, Joanna, Clarissa and Ayesha walked up to me, with apologetic looks on their faces. I've been standing outside the crowded school entrance, for the past ten minutes, in the bitterly cold weather.

"Sorry about that. Traffic was kind of hectic," Joanna confessed, hugging her jet black puffer jacket, closer to her shivering body. Her curly black hair was tied in a messy ponytail on her head. I also noticed she applied a sheer face of makeup, and styled her simple—yet classy— look, with small hoop earrings.

I raised my eyebrows, a grin playing on my face. "You guys look great," I complimented, leading the way to the soccer pitch. Ayesha flipped her long, dark, and glossy brown hair over her shoulders.

"Thank you Sofia. I thought I'd put in a bit more effort for tonight."

I could tell Ayesha was struggling to keep up with us, due to her small height. With every step we took, she took two. I sympathised, but couldn't help snigger as she desperately tried to catch her breath, by the time we reached the bleachers.

"Fuck me, you guys walk way too fast," she coughed, as she took a seat beside me on the bleachers.

As predicted, the place was heavily crowded. A certain electric buzz ran through the hyped atmosphere. Students were already beginning to chant the teams name, as we waited for the match to start. The loud murmurs and shouts of the students of ALS High School, bounced off the sheltered bleachers and out into the cold autumn breeze.

I felt my hair move rapidly in the light wind. I turned to look at Benny, who sat on the other side of me. He's been a bit nonchalant ever since we arrived, and it got me slightly worried.

"Hey, are you okay?" I asked him. He looked up from the floor, and faced me. A barely-convincing smile spread off his face.

"I'm okay," he reassured. I raised my eyebrow accusingly, but he just shook his head. The deep brown wavy curls on his head blew in the wind.

"I'm just scared the wind is going to make my eyes tear up. I can't ruin my mascara." He dabbed the back of his tanned hand, on the outer corner of his eye. I gave him one last reassuring look, but he told me he was fine.

I could tell he was still stressed out about the drastic events of last weekend.

Suddenly, the marching band started their music for the game tonight. The loud buzz died down as the band continued beating on their drums, and marching to the beat of their music. Our school would usually sing some songs, and have musical clubs from our school set the high energy for each important sports match.