Code of Jinge: His Mafia Code

2.0

The Unexpected Call

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The book covering my whole face was blocked by my breathing but I concentrated on how the hot lull breath fanned my face. I can almost feel it, my lids were almost dropping. I'll just sleep it over and It will be gone in my dreams but my stomach made sure that I know its current state right now. EMPTY. UNFED. FAMISHED. Aish! My allowance ran out and I still have to wait until two days before my account will be deposited again. I have nothing but water in my faucet to keep me alive for that time being and nothing else.

“Hey wait a minute,” my mind lightened up with a 'ding' as I recall the poor lonely cold clubhouse on the fridge. I scampered out from my room, ignoring the book that fell over the floor, and vigorously reached to the source of hope- the fridge. The chilly fog that came out made it look like a treasure was sitting on one of the racks in the fridge. The ham and veggie fillings were working so hard to look as edible as possible and my eyes watered in much appreciation as I grabbed it. I was on the edge of having a bite when the phone in the living room rang. I wanted to just ignore it but it was persistent. I ran near to the effing thing.

“Hello?” I said curtly, my eyes never leaving the bread on the kitchen counter, having my foot tapping on the floor.

“Sicily? This is Mother Magdalene.”

“Mother superior!” I exclaimed in surprise not expecting to receive a call from her directly. Usually, it was the sisters that would just give me a call and not the mother superior herself.

“How’s your break?” she asked in a rather somber tone.

“Huh? Oh, I’m fine.” I told her sheepishly. I don't know if she will be interested to hear that I'm about to scavenge the poor clubhouse after this call. But her voice was laced with the oddity that I can't explain. “Is there something wrong, mother superior?”

She didn't reply to that. Instead, she breathed out loudly enough for my left ear to catch.

“Sicily, someone's gonna pick you up in your apartment.” She said. Although she has this wonderful gentle manner in talking to the phone, I still felt that something’s amiss.

“Why?” I asked again, gripping the phone hard.

“We'll talk when you get here, alright?”

I nodded. “Yes, mother superior.”

By the time she hung up, I tried to think of some possible reasons for that unexpected call and the pick-up. Pick up by what? By whom? And why?