"Hello?" Presence repeated, feigning innocence as if she hadn't heard her mother's initial question.

"Presence Añulika Okafor, don't you 'hello' me. Where are you?" Her mother's words crackled through the phone like radio static, each syllable charged with that uniquely parental blend of exasperation and worry. It was the audio equivalent of a raised eyebrow and tapping foot.

Presence sighed, her frustration barely concealed. "I'm at school, Mom. Where else would I be?"

"Don't take that tone with me, young lady," her mother snapped back. "You know very well why I'm asking."

Presence pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on. "No, Mom, I don't know. Care to enlighten me?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Presence could almost see her mother taking a deep breath, probably counting to ten in her head. "Presence, you know today is... significant."

"Significant how?" Presence asked, genuinely confused now.

"It's the anniversary of your father's...." her mother said, her voice softening slightly. The unspoken word - 'death' - hung in the air between them, a chasm neither was quite ready to leap across.

Presence felt guilt sucker-punch her in the gut. She had forgotten. Between the ghostly drama and the looming threat of gang violence, the date had slipped through the cracks of her memory like loose coins through a hole in her pocket.

"Oh... right," she mumbled, each word feeling inadequate, a pebble tossed into the pool of grief. "I'm sorry, Mom. I've been really wrapped up in classes and—" She trailed off, realizing there was no good way to end that sentence. No excuse that could patch over the hole left by forgetting something so monumental.

Presence wasn't exactly starring in a Hallmark movie with her parents. Their relationship was more "awkward holiday dinner" than "tearful airport reunion." Charm was the golden child, the daughter straight out of a university brochure - all perfect grades and extracurriculars, with a dash of girl-next-door charm. Even in her utter normality, Charm had somehow cracked the code of functional adulthood.

Sometimes, in her quiet moments, Presence caught herself wondering if her parents had ever looked at Charm and wished for a flicker of supernatural ability. It was a ridiculous thought, of course. Who would want their kid to see dead people instead of dean's lists?

She hadn't forgotten the anniversary on purpose. It wasn't some grand act of rebellion. It was just... life. Messy, complicated, most recently ghost-infested life that had a habit of steamrolling over important dates like a cosmic calendar mix-up.

Staring at the dusty pathway, Presence found herself hoping that wherever her father was - heaven, Valhalla, or some cosmic waiting room - he'd cut her some slack. After all, isn't that what dads were supposed to do? Forgive you when you mess up, even if the mess-up involved forgetting they weren't around anymore?

"It's fine," her mother interrupted her thoughts, though her tone suggested it was anything but. "I just... I need to ask you something, Presence."

Presence's stomach dropped. She had a feeling she knew where this was going. "Okay...?"

"Have you... seen or heard anything unusual lately? Anything out of the ordinary? Supernatural or otherwise?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. Presence's mind raced. In a split second, she saw flashes of Kel's ghostly form, heard echoes of his voice, felt the weight of the impending gang fight intervention. She thought about the whispers she'd been hearing, the shadows at the corner of her vision that she'd been trying so hard to ignore.

But then she thought about her mother's worried tone, about the burden of expectations that came with their family's "gift." She thought about KK, about Nurudeen, about her chances at a normal life slipping away with each supernatural encounter.

"No," Presence said, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. "Nothing unusual. Everything's perfectly normal, Mom."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Presence held her breath, wondering if her mother's clairvoyant abilities extended to detecting lies over the phone.

Finally, her mother spoke. "Alright, if you're sure. But Presence, if anything does happen, anything at all, you'll tell me immediately, won't you?"

"Of course, Mom," Presence said, the guilt threatening to choke her. "I promise."

As she hung up the phone, Presence leaned against the nearest wall, closing her eyes. She had just lied to her best friend and her mother in the span of an hour. She was about to get involved in preventing a gang fight with the help of a ghost. And she had completely forgotten the anniversary of her father's death.

"Some perfectly normal life," she muttered to herself, pushing off the wall and continuing her rush to class.

•

That evening, Presence arrived at the old library dressed like she was ready for a covert ops mission or an impromptu parkour session. Her navy blue sweatpants and matching hoodie blended perfectly with the twilight shadows, while her track shoes promised quick getaways if needed. She'd packed her curly hair into two round buns, with a few rebellious strands framing her face like an avant-garde halo.

Kel, already waiting, couldn't help but smirk at her attire. "Going for the 'athletic ninja' look, I see."

Presence rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in her voice. "Hey, you said gang fight. I'm just being prepared for the worst. Not all of us can phase through punches, you know."

"Fair enough," Kel chuckled. "Ready for Operation: Ghost Whisper?"

"That's a terrible name," Presence groaned. "Let's just go before I change my mind."

They exited the campus, stepping into an evening that felt like it was holding its breath. The air hung heavy with a cocktail of anticipation and fear, garnished with a twist of impending doom. Presence was doing her best to pretend the fear wasn't there, like a kid squeezing their eyes shut and insisting that the monster under the bed would disappear if they just believed hard enough.

She flagged down a Keke tricycle, a contraption that looked like the lovechild of a motorcycle and a shopping cart with delusions of grandeur. As she clambered in, Presence couldn't help but think that their chariot of choice perfectly summed up their current situation: rickety, slightly ridiculous, but surprisingly resilient.

The driver, a man whose face told the story of a thousand Lagos traffic jams, gunned the engine. They shot into traffic with all the grace of a pinball launched into play, ricocheting between cars, buses, and the occasional brave (or possibly suicidal) pedestrian.

As they wove through the streets of Lagos - a city that treated traffic laws more like gentle suggestions than actual rules - Presence found herself gripping the seat with white-knuckled intensity. She wondered, not for the first time, how her life had turned into this bizarre mash-up of supernatural drama and Nigerian action movie.

The Keke bounced over a pothole, and Presence's stomach did a somersault that would have impressed Olympic gymnasts. In that moment, caught between the fear of what awaited them and the very real possibility of death-by-tricycle, she had an epiphany: sometimes, the most terrifying part of an adventure isn't the ghosts or the gangsters or even the looming threat of academic probation. Sometimes, it's the simple act of choosing to keep moving forward, even when every rational part of your brain is screaming at you to turn back.

As Lagos blurred past them in a kaleidoscope of colors and cacophony of sounds, Presence took a deep breath of exhaust-tinged air and steeled herself for whatever came next. After all, if she could survive this Keke ride, how bad could a few ghosts and gangsters really be?

As they approached First Avenue junction, Presence's heart rate picked up. This was it. They were really doing this. But as the Keke pulled up to their stop, confusion replaced her nervousness.

Pa Obinna's Bar stood before them, looking utterly... normal. No rowdy crowds, no tension in the air, not even a hint of the impending chaos Kel had described. The place looked about as threatening as a sleepy kitten.

Presence turned to Kel, her eyebrows raised in a silent question. Kel, for his part, looked equally baffled.

"I don't understand," he muttered, his ghostly form flickering slightly in his confusion. "There should be... something. Anything."

Presence sighed, a mixture of relief and exasperation coloring her voice. "Well, great. I dressed up like a discount superhero for nothing."

Presence stepped into Pa Obinna's Bar, trying her best to look like she belonged there and not like someone about to foil a gang fight. She ordered a beer, handed over the crumpled notes, and made her way to a spot near the wall.

As she settled in, her back pressed against the cool surface, Kel phased through the table to sit beside her - a new trick he picked up - he could sit or lay on solid objects now without falling through them.

Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure the entire bar could hear it. Kel, noticing her tension, decided to lighten the mood. "So," he said with a smirk, "I take it this is your first beer at a bar?"

Presence shot him a sidelong glance, careful not to look directly at him. "What gave it away? My impeccable nurse's aide cosplay or the fact that I'm gripping this bottle like it might explode?"

Kel chuckled. "Well, the way you're eyeing that beer like it's a venomous snake is a bit of a tell."

"Hey, for all I know, it could be," Presence muttered. "This evening's already weird enough. Exploding beer wouldn't even make the top five list of strange things happening right now."

"Fair point," Kel conceded. "Though I have to say, your 'casual drinker' act needs work. You look about as relaxed as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs."

Presence took a sip of her beer, immediately grimacing at the taste. "Ugh, is it supposed to taste like bitter disappointment?"

Kel laughed. "Ah, the refined palate of a first-time beer drinker. Don't worry, it grows on you. Like a fungus."

"Fantastic," Presence deadpanned. "Just what I always wanted. An acquired taste for liquid bread."

"Look on the bright side," Kel offered. "If the gang fight doesn't pan out, at least you'll have a story about your first illicit drink."

Presence rolled her eyes. "Oh joy. I can already see the headline: 'Local Girl's Exciting Night Out Ends in Tepid Beer and Zero Action.'"

As they continued their banter, Presence felt herself relaxing slightly. The absurdity of the situation – sitting in a bar, drinking her first beer, and chatting with a ghost while waiting for a gang fight that might not even happen – was not lost on her. She couldn't help but wonder what other surprises the night had in store.

Kel's eyes ping-ponged around the room like a game of social pinball, bouncing off the appreciative glances aimed their way. It wasn't exactly rocket science to figure out why - Presence was a walking, talking paradox in human form, her mixed heritage painting her in colors that didn't exist on any standard palette.

In this dive bar masquerading as a lounge, she stuck out like a peacock at a pigeon convention. Her eyes - a mystery of color that seemed to oscillate between light brown and a hypnotic dirty grey depending on the angle and the whims of the flickering fluorescent light - caught Kel mid-stare. They both snapped their gazes away faster than teens caught making out on prom night.

"What?" Presence asked, her voice low and curious.

Kel, not wanting to make her more uncomfortable than she already was, opted for a harmless fib. "That hoodie," he said with a mock grimace. "You couldn't find anything fuglier?"

A small grin tugged at Presence's lips. She took another sip of her beer, barely suppressing a wince at the taste. "You know, I never got to ask y-"

Her words were abruptly cut off by a sound that chilled them both to the core. Gunshots rang out, loud and unmistakable. These weren't the pop-pop of handguns, but the rapid, thunderous report of automatic weapons - AK-47s.

The bar erupted into chaos. Patrons dove for cover, glasses shattered as they hit the floor, and screams pierced the air. Presence's eyes widened in shock and fear, her body frozen for a split second before instinct kicked in.

Kel, despite his ghostly state, found himself reaching out to protect Presence. "Get down!" he shouted, forgetting for a moment that he couldn't physically shield her.

Presence didn't need to be told twice. She ducked low, crawling towards the nearest cover - an overturned table. Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out everything but the continued barrage of gunfire.

As she huddled behind the makeshift barrier, Presence's mind raced. This wasn't just a gang fight - this was something far more dangerous. She glanced at Kel, who hovered nearby, his ghostly face etched with worry and guilt.

"What the hell have you gotten me into?" she hissed, her voice barely audible over the chaos.

Kel's expression was a mixture of shock and remorse. "I... I didn't know. This isn't what was supposed to happen."

As bullets continued to fly overhead, Presence realized that her evening had taken a turn far more perilous than she could have imagined. Her first time in a bar had quickly become a fight for survival, and she found herself wishing, not for the first time that day, that she'd stayed home and watched Netflix instead.

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