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Student @ Adekunle Ajasin university,Akungba Akoko,Ondo state
HARDNOCK LIFE
<p>Chapter 4 – Break Bread or Break Heads</p><p><br></p><p>Micah's stomach growled as he watched the lunch line shuffle forward. The cafeteria at Eastside High was loud—kids clowning, deals getting made under tables, threats whispered between bites. It wasn’t just lunch. It was the arena.</p><p><br></p><p>“Micah,” a voice called behind him. It was Dre, his closest thing to a real friend since the funeral. Dre was slick, always smiling, always knowing too much. “Heard you gave that corner boy Tyrell a new smile yesterday.”</p><p><br></p><p>Micah didn’t answer. He kept his eyes forward, hands in his hoodie pockets.</p><p><br></p><p>“You gonna let me eat with you or you still acting like you John Wick?”</p><p><br></p><p>Micah gave him a sideways glance. “Depends. You bringing food?”</p><p><br></p><p>Dre grinned, lifting a brown paper bag like a trophy. “Ham and cheese. I even got chips.”</p><p><br></p><p>They sat by the window, two seats apart—close enough to talk, far enough in case things went sideways. Micah unwrapped a sandwich Dre handed him, and for a moment, the world slowed down. A bite of food. A laugh. The sound of sneakers squeaking down the hall.</p><p><br></p><p>Then it sped up again.</p><p><br></p><p>“Word is,” Dre said, mouth half-full, “Mrs. Freeman called a social worker on you. She say you smell like the street.”</p><p><br></p><p>Micah’s face tightened. “She don’t know nothing.”</p><p><br></p><p>“I’m just saying—watch your back. People start asking questions, next thing you know, they trying to place you somewhere with rules. Curfews. Cameras.”</p><p><br></p><p>Micah stared out the window. “Let them try.”</p><p><br></p><p>But Dre wasn’t done. He leaned in, voice low. “I got something coming up. Real job. Not corners, not boosting. Just a run. One drop, one pick-up. Money in hand. I trust you.”</p><p><br></p><p>Micah narrowed his eyes. “How much?”</p><p><br></p><p>“Enough to get your water back on. Maybe even lights.”</p><p><br></p><p>That night, back in the apartment, Micah sat with a flashlight under his chin, reading a water bill like it was a war plan. He thought of his mom’s favorite saying: *"Ain’t nobody coming for you but you."*</p><p><br></p><p>He folded the paper, tucked it into his duffle, and zipped it up slow.</p><p><br></p><p>Tomorrow, he’d make the run.</p><p><br></p><p>One drop. One pick-up.</p><p><br></p><p>Easy.</p>
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