Chapter 2: Crossroads
Ada's POV;
I sat in my car, parking outside campus. Criminology class in ten minutes. Dad's voice echoed in my head, "Ada, got a case briefing tomorrow." Ugh, fed life. I sighed and texted Cassandra: Meet you at the café? My fingers lingered over the screen longer than necessary, heart already racing from thoughts of the day ahead.
Damson's POV;
Damson stepped out of his old rusty bike, That his the only thing he has left of his Dad..
His eyes scanning the block. Cracked pavement, graffiti-tagged walls, and the smell of jerk chicken wafting from Ms. Jenkins' kitchen. This was home, gritty and alive in its chaos. He nodded at Gustavo, leaning against a lamppost. "What's poppin'?"
"Just chillin', man," Gustavo said, grinning. "Ma Li's cooking, though. I got my priorities."
Damson chuckled. "Bella's got a math test tomorrow. I gotta help her cram."
Gustavo snorted. "You? Math?"
Damson flipped him off playfully. "Hey, I got skills."
Bella, twelve, burst out of their apartment, backpack bouncing against her small frame. "D! Mima says get in, dinner! And D, I need money for school fees tomorrow, Mima said no but..."
Lillian called out, "Bella, don't bother Damson!"
Damson's jaw tightened. Mima worked three jobs, and it still wasn't enough. He ruffled Bella's hair gently. "Tell Mima I'm walkin' Gus out. We'll sort it."
Inside, Lillian bustled, cooking up jerk chicken and rice. "Damson, eat something. You too, Gus."
Gustavo grinned. "Mama Lillian, your jerk chicken's the best."
Damson smiled, taking a plate. "Mima, you spoil us."
Bella piped up again, eyes wide. "D, pleeease? The fees..."
Damson's gaze softened, then hardened. Gotta make this work. "Don't worry, Bel. I got it."
His mind raced. Opportunities. Connections. Every choice felt like a balance between survival and compromise.
Damson walked Gus out, the weight of responsibility pressing on his shoulders. "Gus, hit me up about that meet with Rico tomorrow. Might be something."
Gustavo raised an eyebrow. "The 'import-export' thing? You sure, man?"
Damson nodded. "Mima's stressed. Bella needs those fees."
Gustavo nodded back. "Gotcha. I'll set it up."
Damson returned inside. Lillian was clearing plates. "Mima, don't worry about the fees. I handle it."
Her eyes were tired but proud. "Damson, no trouble. We'll make do."
Damson kissed her cheek softly. "I got this, Mima."
Bella tugged his arm, her small fingers clutching his. "D, thanks!"
He glanced at his watch. Criminology class. Ada would be there. He smirked, a mixture of nerves and anticipation coiling in his stomach.
Damson walked into class, scanning the room. There she was. Ada sat in the front row, posture perfect, eyes bright, radiating a confidence that made his chest tighten. As he slid into his seat, she turned, eyebrow raised. "Enjoying the view?"
Damson leaned back casually. "Just checking out the competition."
Professor Thompson started lecturing. Ada scribbled notes, focused, deliberate, ignoring Damson. Until she didn't.
During a break, Ada stormed out into the courtyard. Damson followed, smirking. "Can't handle the heat?"
Ada spun, meeting him head-on. "I can handle you." Their chests bumped, the contact electric and unintentional.
Damson stepped back, laughing softly. "Tough girl."
Ada's eyes flashed with fire. "Don't push me."
Students nearby started watching, whispers buzzing through the courtyard. Gustavo appeared, grinning like he knew exactly what was unfolding. "Tension, tension!"
Ada stormed off, leaving Damson and Gustavo exchanging looks and quiet laughter. Gustavo nudged him. "You got a thing for her, D?"
Damson snorted, almost defensively. "Nah. She hates me."
Gustavo chuckled knowingly. "Game on then."
Back in Ada's room that night, the glow of her phone lit up Cassandra's message: You good? The garage incident feels bigger than you think.
Her fingers hovered over the screen. She wanted to reply, to reach out, but her chest felt tight, crowded with all the little moments that kept replaying—the half-smile in the hallway, Gustavo's carefree grin, Damson's calm, sharp presence. She flicked the phone away and tried to sleep. Sleep didn't come easily.
The next day in class, the air hummed with tension. Ada rose, chin set, eyes burning with determination. "If loyalty is currency, then how do you protect yourself when the market crashes?"
Damson met her gaze from the back row. This wasn't a challenge; it was a silent declaration, a line drawn between them that neither wanted to cross yet both could feel.
Professor Thompson leaned forward, chalk tapping softly in his hand. "Loyalty is tested by the consequences of your choices, not by the comfort of your company. The true measure is not who you stand with when it's easy, but who you stand with when it costs you." He paused, letting the weight settle. "Today's stakes aren't just about principles. They're about who you become when you must decide who to protect and what you're willing to sacrifice to protect them."
Ada's hand rose, then trembled slightly. She spoke anyway. "Loyalty's currency isn't just what you hold, it's what you're willing to expose about yourself to keep it." The room shifted, whispers fluttering through the students as eyes flicked to Damson.
Damson, still in the back, felt the tug of the moment tightening around him. He stood, leaning forward with a casual ease that belied the tension coiling inside him. "Loyalty's currency is trust. You don't spend it carelessly, and you don't misprice it. You pay with it where it matters." His voice was calm, measured, but each word carried weight, a quiet warning..
Ada's gaze sharpened. "And what if the truth you hide helps you survive?" she asked softly. The classroom seemed to still, every student holding their breath.
Gustavo, half-smiling, leaned back. "People run on fear and pride too. The trick is not letting the fear push you into bad choices." He glanced at Damson, then at Ada. "You both know the costs aren't equal for everyone. Same race, different hurdles."
Class dismissed. Ada lingered, gathering her things with meticulous calm. Damson and Gustavo exchanged a look heavy with unspoken words, then stepped into the corridor where lockers slammed and voices bounced off tile.
By four, Damson and Gustavo were at Rico's place. The sprawling mansion, guarded and imposing, stood in contrast to their neighborhood. Rico welcomed them warmly, leading them to a hidden room stacked with packets of white powder.
Damson's stomach dropped. "What the..."
Rico smiled, smooth, calculating. "This is the business, D. Easy money. You're in a tough spot. Mima working hard, Bella needs stuff. This solves it."
Damson shook his head. "No way, Rico. I'm out."
Rico leaned in, voice sharp. "D, don't be stupid. You need this. You've got mouths to feed."
Damson hesitated, heart hammering, then stormed out. Gustavo followed, catching up outside. "D, wait. For Bella. For Mima."
Damson's jaw tightened. "Gus, this is wrong."
Gustavo's voice softened. "We need the money. We sell it fast, get out."
Damson looked away, torn between right and survival.
Gustavo pressed gently. "Remember where we come from? We have to make moves."
Finally, Damson nodded. "Alright. But how are we gonna sell it?"
Gustavo grinned. "We start at school, hit some parties, find the right spots. It'll work."
Damson exhaled, resolve settling, though doubt lingered. "Okay.".
Back inside, Rico watched them. "Well?"
Gustavo nodded. "We're in. One kilo, max. Sell fast."
Rico's smile was cold. "I'll give you a kilo. Sell it, make profit, come back."
Gustavo nodded. "Deal."
Rico handed them the package. "Here's the deal. One kilo."
His voice dropped, sharp. "Remember, boys. Feds, cops. I don't joke. Two weeks to return my cash."
Damson and Gustavo nodded, serious. Rico's gaze lingered, warning clear.
Outside, Damson turned to Gustavo. "This feels crazy."
Gustavo clapped his shoulder. "D, we got this."
Damson nodded, still uneasy. "Where do we keep it? Mima's home."
"My place. I'm alone. We'll stash it there," Gustavo said.
Damson nodded again, a plan forming, but the weight of choice pressed heavy on him.