A/N: I have a feeling this may be a touchy chapter for some people. Backstories are necessary to understand why people act or behave the way they do. Remember these are all Emery's thoughts and do not directly reflect what I, the author, stand for or against.✨
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"Uh. . .Your mum's asleep," Giada replied, jumping her words. "Is everything alright where you are?"

The phone was still between the constrictions of my palm and my ear but my attention was on Dad who still hadn't said anything, other than the hands in his pocket which I wanted to remove so badly. Who did he think he was being confident for? Then, he brought out his left hand and spared his gold, expensive wristwatch a glance then gave a long sigh.

"Well?" I inquired, peering at him.

"Well, honey, it'd be rather inconvenient to wake her up," Giada mumbled from the other side. Angrily, I cut the call. Couldn't she perceive I hadn't been referring to her?

"Dad!"

"Emerald, can I come in?"

"You can," I replied curtly and gave him room to walk in. When he did, I walked out and closed the door.

Was going to break out into a run when his deep authoritative voice called out, "You have never walked out on your dad and it won't start today." I stood there like a sad toddler, wishing, like times before, he would come and raise me high up into the air and twirl and twirl and twirl...

A tear slid through my eyes. Why didn't the beautiful things last as long as we wanted them to?

"I was just about to leave, really." I ignored the croak in my voice but kept my eyes fixed on the porch.

"Look at me."

Turning, he was standing beside the door, his hand on the handle to keep it open. He gestured for me to come in and I groaned as I stuffed my phone in my purse and made my way inside. I made sure to walk past Dad without sparing him a glance, then I crossed my arms. Leaning on one leg, I watched him walk towards me. "I'm looking at you."

"Sit down," he ordered.

"Talk to me."

"Emery, please--"

"You're not the one who's found out your entire family was a lie, so you either talk to me or go." My throat heated up.

Dad gave a long sigh. "Your mum must have told you about my offer to switch you to another school. . ."

My throat heated up. "Look, if this is what this is about, count me out."

"Emerald Scother!"

"If you're hungry, there's frozen yogurt in the refrigerator, minus the frozen. Thanks for this chat." I grabbed my purse and walked past him, making sure to hit him with my shoulder.

I pulled down the zip of my body warmer as I headed to the door. "If you won't do this for anything, Emery, at least do it for Nora. She misses you a whole lot, wishes you were always there." I stopped dead in my tracks.

Norah Scother. My bubbly, innocent beautiful person. There to bounce on my bed and demand chunk brownies. I never even got to make those with her one last time before Dad came carrying her into his new home to stay with them, permanently. Life really is unpredictable. . .and unfair.

Quinn, Dad, and I looked so alike. I hated to think about this; I hated that Dad was making me think about this. How, why, did he have to come now, now that the last thing I wanted to think about was all the Earthian problems that came with leaving Neba and coming back here? If, oh, if I could stay in Neba permanently.

I turned to him, determined to let him see just how much he was involved in this. "None of these issues would have been if you hadn't been so. . .So selfish and inconsiderate."

"Emery, we've been over this?"

"Over what?" I screamed and threw my hands as far as far could go. "What have we been over? The issues? Your selfishness? Your inconsideration."

"Be mature."

"Are you serious?" I palmed my forehead and shook my head. Slowly, I whispered, "Jayden in six. Norah is five. Can you. . .Do you. . .?" I trailed off, there was no way I could say it as explicitly as Rowan.

"Hillville is a great school. It's the best economic decision if we're living in the same place. You and Nora can be close."

This was Dad talking like a businessman. Like when he enticed Nora with the idea of a boy named Jayden, and a baby, Quinn, a beautiful high-pitched loving woman and a beautiful playroom to spend free time in.

"I've spent more time than I should here. We can continue some other time if you're up for it." I dashed out before he had the chance to order me back, stepping over puddles mindlessly.

***

Mister Pat's was mostly now just a place for me to chill and enjoy the scent of coffee, dough, and people's scent. I loved the combo — used to it, more of — and Mister Pat's was another Neba away from Neba. Here, serving people, I didn't have to bother about Josh or Luan — not like there were still big threats anyway — nor did I have to worry about Mum or Nora or Rowan, and all the problems that came with thinking about them.

Yet, this was nothing compared to being in Nesylone Waters. Lying beside the river, water brushing your legs. Lost in thoughts, my hand went up to the purple stone hanging down my neck. Tevessa had made a necklace out of it and had given it to me when I woke up, lying beside the river. He was clad in another shirt and what I assumed was beach shorts. I wondered how he'd passed through the bricks and I couldn't, but when I asked him, he brushed me off with a simple, very silly pick-up line for a morning greeting.

For a Saturday, Mister Pat's was barely filled today. Rinsing the last tray, I hummed a song my mother was very much fond of. I never liked the song anyway, didn't like the singer either. Both — my mum and Michael Jackson — were the same, promoting peace, in a way that annoyed me.

I guess, the one reason this music stuck, was the situation I was in when she rang it into my ear. It'd been a year ago, and I'd just turned sixteen. I'd tried, really tried, to get to the bus as soon as I could, but Josh and George had been quicker and they had met me.

I had tried to be assertive, pretended to be unaffected by their teasing. When he'd showed me a knife, I'd frantically run out. A locker was opened and when Josh had pushed me against it, the metal had slid down my back diagonally. It was the first time I'd rushed home and reported, and Mum had just brushed the issue off. Violence didn't exist, she'd said. Rose-Gold is the best I've seen if you make it a better place.

It wasn't easy to acknowledge her definition of peace, not while there was blood dripping down my back. I didn't tell her that bit, I never did. The thought of how she would feel if she ever saw practical evidence of bully prevented me from doing so. It wasn't like she hadn't seen instances on TV or social media, she just couldn't bring herself to believe. It was just like not believing in death, although everyone is well aware of how many people die a day. We just think: it can't happen to the us or ones we know and love... until it eventually happens.

Cursing under my breath, I had gone into the bathroom and set the water temperature to hot. In all my seventeen years of living, I don't think I'd ever felt a pain as excruciating as the one I felt that day. I kept admitting to myself how much I hated Josh, how much I didn't want to look into their eyes.

My mum's voice then came. It was soft and harmonious and I couldn't make out the lyrics, until eventually I could, "There's a place in your heart, and I know that it is love. And this place, it was brighter than tomorrow."

Her voice echoed and echoed, as she sang mindlessly while doing whatever she was. I had tried to endure the pain and shut my eyes as hot tears began to flow freely down. I'd felt violated when I'd heard another part of the song, "And if you really try, you'll find there's no need to cry. In this place, you feel there's no hurt or sorrow."

I had wanted to hold back those tears, to be a master of my emotions, at least for the song. But the more I had tried, the more I could picture Josh laughing at me, my petite body lying helplessly at his mercy. And I screamed in the bathroom — as quiet as Nora or Mum wouldn't hear — and shut my eyes to relieve even the slightest pain, and Mum's voice shot even louder.

"Heal the world. Make it a better place, for you, and for me, and the entire human race."

And the needles of hot water dropped on my back and met the red, fresh scar, and I groaned and mewled, and mum sang, "There are people dying. If you care about the living, make it a better place for you and for me." I couldn't hold anything back. I let it all out, crying — the only thing that ever provided me with the comfort I needed.

Mum knew so much about her beliefs, about the things she valued. And though she wasn't an entirely an entirely proactive or curious person, she knew so much.

But I knew more than she did; I knew there was no better place. And I knew I was the one dying. And no one, not a single person, cared about the living. And if Michael Jackson did, he wasn't alive anymore. . .

I spent the entire time I hummed the song cleaning that one last tray. I didn't want to leave just yet, but I'd planned to visit King so we could practise more for the upcoming elections. And, it would also be my way of waiting until it was time to visit Tevessa.

Catherine walked in, a short girl with raven hair and hazel eyes. She spoke like a Brazilian, but what did I know? She asked for a pack of tissues and I informed her that only Alexia knew.

Francesca no longer worked here. She'd quit almost after Mr Jupeng had employed the new five. I planned on leaving too because I didn't need the money as urgently as I used to. Nora no longer lived with us and mother was having a perfect time with her new friends. Plus, working here made scheduling a lot harder. I could've been with Herald, even though the last session hadn't ended well.

Before Francesca left, she used to tell, those times she was in a good mood, about her boyfriend who had a terrible attitude but who she loved anyway. In all of Francesca's flaws — and she had many — she was a far more genuine person than Madeleine Douglass. I hated to think about Maddy, or Sandro, any person who was directly or indirectly a pain in the neck.

Anyway, Francesca's boyfriend was a mummy's boy, and that included all the trouble that came with it: like the inevitable immaturity, for example. Unlike Francesca at work, Francesca tolerated her boyfriend's constant demands and attitudes, something Madeleine couldn't do. I guess it was that much tolerance that reduced the patience she had for the people around her.

I couldn't blame her. Her mother was an alcohol addict. Her father, in jail. And then there was her, being the breadwinner of the family, while still struggling with a demanding boyfriend.

I sighed as I untied my apron and removed my hairnet. Grabbing my phone, I sent a quick text message to King telling him that I would be in his place in less than an hour. This was how this whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing worked, right?

As I hit the send button, I thought about Francesca. She would have never let me call or text during working hours. She would have said, "If you're just going to come here whenever you want just 'cause you've been given special conditions by Mister Jupeng, I don't care. But don't get in my way of working you hear me?" And then she'd add, "Don't mess it up."

Maybe I did miss Francesca Leibing, just a little. Her wanting everything to be done right. Her demanding equal treatment for all. Her outspokenness, nonchalance, and still serious attitude. She was a complicated person, yes, but without her, everything was done in such a laid-back manner.

Alexia McDonald was the new "boss when Mr Jupeng was not around". And Mr Jupeng was barely around. Patrick Jupeng had initially opened the coffee shop to fulfill his desire of doing the job he loved: making coffee. He had a stable source of income —he and Dad were partners — and the shop was meant to be a one-man job done part-time. With work in the way, he needed someone to cover up and when Francesca came running, telling him her problems, he quickly gave her the job. She had been the first, and I had been the second when he eventually met his ole friend's daughter.

He must have realized that his idea of a coffee shop was an idea that could have worked well in his time but not now, and good for him, really, because he was beginning to lose people. Not like I cared though, because it wasn't my business.

It wasn't just Mister Pat's being Mister Pat's. It was all the things it made me feel — Neba away from Neba.

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I wish I had a Neba away from Neba. What do you think about the chapter?

"You're not the one who's found out your entire family was a lie, so you either talk to me, or go" — Did I get that from After? Maybe 🤭

Seems more like a filler? So much has been happening to Emery that both of us need a lie-down. So, less action, more thought. I wanted us to have a deeper insight into what goes on daily in Emery's head. Hopefully, this clears up some of your questions.

The relaxed state of this chapter may also signify the "calm before the storm" thing. (Fingers crossed🙂)

As always, don't forget to leave a vote.✨