A girl named Chevy
Chevy ran in excitement, she was holding the mangoes she had stolen from Mr Swiss, he was a middle-aged farmer. The distraught man cursed and swore after her and her accomplice, Gerald. They laughed merrily as they ran. They were panting hard. They climbed an abandoned cart by a wall, it was filled with rotten hay, with a putrid stench oozing out of it. But they didn't mind, they smelled worse after all. They had not had a bath in days. They climbed the low roof and ran with the fear an angry mob would come after them. It wasn't their first time stealing food. If they ever got caught, the outcome was going to be fatal. They ran until they got to the last roof on the outskirts of the tiny town. It was the roof of Gerald's house, he looked down from the roof to confirm they were safe. He sighed in relief, no one was coming after them, and they could take a break.
Gerald sat on the warm roof. Thankfully, the day had been devoid of sunshine, the skies were glum. Lined in the skies was a faint glimmer of the fading sun. The roof's temperature was perfect, they could sit. It also had an old coal-stained brick chimney where they could rest their aching backs. The rooftops of the houses in Geneva were small and rectangular, except for Chevy's house. Their roof had been stacked up with too much hay over the years. It had some clumsy patching done by her father. There were too many leaks on the roof, her dad had to cover them up until it was almost turning into a thatch roof. Although it was a bit outside town, their house was a stone's throw away. She had come to source food for her sick mother and her little brother.
Her dad worked with a steelworks company outside town, he was barely home.
Over the last few days, all the living plants and trees had mysteriously begun to die in Geneva.
People were down with a strange illness. It had killed almost everyone. Geneva was polluted as a result of illegal industrial activity; the press paid regular visits to Geneva, but none of their plights ever got aired on the news. The elites were trying so hard to bury what was going on in Geneva.
Chevy lost her younger sister to the strange disease the previous year. Gerald had also lost his dad.
They feast on the mangoes hungrily and struggle to catch their breath at the same time. Mr Swiss who was the only president that never seemed to run out of supplies, always had a constant supply of food. Which was why Chevy and Gerald always stole from him. An information alien to the people was that the city of Geneva housed a dangerous chemical factory belonging to the current prime minister where they produced a mileage of Ion 33. A toxic chemical that brought harm to crops, lives, and the waters as well. Many residents who came in contact with the chemical suffered blood cancer till they died. It had claimed the lives of many and was clamoring for more.
Mr. Swiss was in charge of the factory. He was deployed by Gideon Haul to monitor the factory and give the prime minister constant feedback. Mr Haul was striving to get the current prime minister on his side, he was the major support system he needed to win the election. Thus he did his bidding without questions.
Mr. Swiss was well compensated, they ensured he never lacked what to eat, or suffered like the natives of Geneva.
He was living large, he got hefty paychecks, and was well guarded against ION 33 because he knew of its existence. It was never going to harm him.
The skies were radiating orange lights in no time.
Chevy and Gerald ate the mangoes until they were full. Chevy stuffed some into the pockets of her blue and dirty mud-stained baggy shorts. I have to keep some for James, he'll be hungry, and Mum as well." "My dad also needs some, he'll be coming home tomorrow." She felt compelled to explain when she noticed the surprise on Gerald's face as he watched her stuff away; he had been watching her eat; she only had one out of six. "Well, I guess it's just me and my mum," he said, juggling the two juicy mangoes in the air.
Gerald lived with a butcher's widow, an unpleasant old lady who overworked him a lot. Regardless, he still tried his best to win her heart. He never experienced any form of motherly love, his mother passed away shortly after he was born. Chevy's mother was the only woman close to being a mother figure in his life. She loved him like her son.
He stuffed his mangoes in his past pocket as well. His Orange singlet had patches all over as well as his brown shorts. His thick black hair glistened under the evening sun. He had pale pink lips and amber eyes. Chevy loved staring into them. He stood up, the sun had faded away, and darkness was going to cover the skies any moment from then. It was time to go home. Chevy extended her hand to him and he grabbed them and helped her up. She stood on her feet. Chevy placed her hands above her eyes to survey the distance she had to cover Gerald lived inside town, but she didn't.
Her eyes got some figures in the distance. They looked like tiny moving black and white dots. "Who are they?." She asked Gerald in curiosity. He edged closer to where she was to have a look. He strained his eyes to see, he was able to make out who they were.
"Probably Boy Scouts, I heard Mr. Swiss tell someone about some child volunteers who're going to help us clean up the dead plants in Geneva. "He made mention of Henry Haul, declaring he's a bright kid and we should vote for his dad. "He'll make a great Prime Minister."
"Great." Chevy shrugged.
" I'll be heading home then, goodnight Gerald." She said and began to descend the roof. She was already on the ground when he called her name. "Chevy !. "
He called after her urgently. There was something on his mind, but he had never really mustered the courage to do it until now. She stood where she was to hear what he was going to say. He began to ply down the rooftop. He was soon on the ground. He came to where she stood and in a flash he placed a kiss on her right cheek. "Goodnight." He let out awkwardly and sprinted off, leaving her confused and rooted to the spot.