Back on the Block | On My Block fanfic

One Missed Call

Jamal tossed and turned in his bed, covers flailing in a rustling frenzy around his restless form. Even in his sleep, his brain was spiraling. Sweat poured down his forehead like crazy, creating enough fluid to solve multiple water crises in several third world countries. This man was a shaky, sweaty machine. 

His lips trembled around the words -- "Julio... Julio..."

His eyes twitched for another moment before flicking open to the dark bliss of his childhood bedroom. A digital clock pulsed neon green numbers in front of his face. 3:05.  Just before he shut his eyes again, mumbling something about a bad dream, a sickeningly familiar figure came into view just over his nightstand. 

"JULIO!"

Jamal screeched, flinging the covers off his body, spazzing so hard he nearly tumbled off the bed. Julio's menacing figure continued to stare him down in the dark. He clutched his chest, breathing harder than Jasmin that one time she forgot her inhaler during the mile, and continued to stare at the unwelcomed visitor. 

Years ago, he read in a National Geographic magazine that several marine and land animals puff themselves up in hopes of intimidating dangerous predators in the wild. With this morsel of knowledge, Jamal stuck out his chest and pushed his shoulders back, which were still surprisingly scrawny after years of football training. 

Still, this tactic did little to help Jamal as Julio didn't shatter into a thousand pieces like he hoped he would. 

Before the situation could escalate, Mr. and Mrs. Turner stormed into the bedroom, flicking on the overhead light. In front of them stood their son, butt naked, his body oddly contorted like a wounded gazelle gearing up for attack. 

Jamal squealed again, grabbing the nearest t-shirt to cover his dangly bits. "Mom! Dad!"

Mr. Turner pinched the bridge of his nose, hardly able to look at Jamal. He sighed -- deeply. 

"Jamal." Mrs. Turner scrunched her face in concern and took a seat on the edge of his bed. "Is everything alright? It's been years since you've had one of your--"

She motioned aimlessly toward his slick, skinny body. 

"... Spasms. Have you been taking your meds, baby?"

Jamal did a frantic double-take between her and Julio. Both Mr. and Mrs. Turner craned their necks to get a good look at the peculiar garden gnome sitting amiably a few feet from his bed. Strangely, it was dressed like one of those Freeridge street thugs, with the sagging pants and chains.  They looked back at Jamal with confusion. 

"D-Do you see that?!" Jamal pointed at the gnome, his eyes wide as ever. "Because I sure as hell do! Pardon my language. But that, that -- demonic entity  -- was certainly not there when I went to bed last night."

Julio the gnome continued to stare off with a pleasant smile on his face. 

Jamal's parents exchanged a look. Mr. Turner, rubbing the side of his face, mumbled something about it being too early for this bullshit. Mrs. Turner shushed him and turned towards her son. 

"Jamal, I don't know anything about that creepy-looking gnome, but you need to get some sleep, kid. You signed up to help coach the junior football team tomorrow morning, remember?"

"How can I sleep, woman, with that thing stalking me in the middle of the night?!" Jamal was hysterical. 

"Look," Mr. Turner said. "You are way too old for this bull now, you gotta cut it out, and fast. I don't wanna hear anymore about this Chucky shit or there's gonna be trouble. Now babe--" He turned to his wife, "Let's let Jamal, uh, settle down, and let's go get some rest.  Everyone has a long day ahead tomorrow."

He threw Jamal a stern look before stumbling back into the hallway, towards the master bedroom. Jamal's mom lingered for a few moments, her eyes creased with exhaustion but filled with sympathy nonetheless. 

"Alright baby, you heard the big man. Time to go get some sleep."

Jamal sputtered. "But... but!"

... But it was pointless. No one ever listened to Jamal about things like this. 

He scoffed and flung himself back on his bed, the sweat-soaked comforter clinging to his body. Julio's pointy head caught the corner of his eye. 

"YOU!" Jamal hissed, staring straight at the garden figurine. "I will not let you make a fool out of me once again!" 

With that, he jumped up and bounded over towards Julio, fists clenched into balls. He towered over it, glaring down over the bridge of his nose, steam practically rising from his nostrils. With each steady breath, he reminded himself to smell the flowers, blow out the candles. Julio was just a gnome -- a tiny, fragile, ceramic gnome and there was no way he was the real Julio because the real Julio was dead, right?

With one last heavy exhale, Jamal picked up the gnome and walked over to his bedroom window, which he swiftly slid open. He chucked "Julio"'s body into the street, his demise marked by the sound of ceramic shattering into millions of little pieces on the asphalt. The neighbor's car alarm sounded immediately after. 

Jamal was quick to shut the window and jump back on his bed. Thieves. They'll just blame it on thieves breaking into the car. It is Freeridge, after all. The important thing was that Julio (or his devious imposter) was gone, for now, hopefully forever.

His panicked spiral was interrupted by a buzzing from his nightstand. 

"Jesus Christ!" At this rate, Jamal was going to be dead of a damn heart attack by the morning.

He reached over and grabbed his IPhone. Plastered on the glowing screen was the text, received 3:16 am. 

000-000-6969  3:16 am

I never stopped watching you, JT.

Jamal gasped. All of a sudden he could feel his heart in his stomach and it was beating so fast he saw black stars dancing in his vision. Ohh, this is not good, THIS IS NOT GOOD.  Oh my god, oh my god. I'm going to be sick. 

After retching into a nearby wastebasket, and after the retching turned into dry-heaving, Jamal wiped his mouth and slowly turned his phone over again, the hard thumping in his chest beginning to stabilize itself. 

Under the text was another missed notification, one that sent a fresh wave of nausea through his body. 

Monse Finne 8:17 pm

1 missed call

Monse Finne 8:20 pm

hey ik its been a while but we need to talk its something really important and idk anyone else who can help me rn. just call me when u got the chance, k?

What the hell did Monse need him for again, after all these years? Did she know what was going on?