Prologue

It is generally believed that war is but for a time, after which there is peace. It is thought that the warring parties, usually learn greatly from their mistakes, and as a result, avoid fighting at all costs. This is however not the case in Federal Unity School, Ekpoma. The perpetual gender war never ends. There is no peace in this place - no resolving the conflict, no negotiations, no arbitration, no adjudication.

Legend has it that the conflict began several decades ago when a junior girl was sent home for having a romp with a senior boy. But the boy in question was never expelled, and this, amongst other perceived sexist biases, brought about an uproar in the female hostels. They felt unfairly treated and sought for action. They however turned their dismay to the other gender, plotting the ruination of popular boys.

The girls worked in groups, untiringly and determined, scheming endlessly. It didn't matter to them who their victim was or, for that matter, what it was he had done or had not done, as long as he was male, he had to get it bad. They called themselves The Brazen Amazons, and later the Liberated Skirts. But they soon abandoned the name and settled for something less ridiculous - The Ladies Scorned. The girls were known to plan, to never leave anything to chance. They met regularly, were distinctively organised and meticulous - for pete's sakes, they had a written ideology, a constitution with a chief whip and a president.

The boys were no bystanders themselves, they devised and crafted defensive and offensive tricks to cause the downfall and expulsion of the girls too. Theirs were characteristically simple but effective, and unlike the girls, they didn't -couldn't- spend much time thinking out their plan. They believed in luck, in chance and opportunity. They had no written ideology, theirs was of tacit agreement. Following the girls' footsteps, they tagged themselves an unoriginal but deeply symbolic Men Cave.

Soon it became apparent that there were two sides to be taken, of which students were drawn, not by nationality, nor religion, nor belief, but by gender. The ultimate goal was expulsion, and the greater the shame attracted to it, the greater the commendation .

Although, these days, it appears no one cares about the expulsion of their enemies, the embarrassment of members of the opposing side is just as good.




Article by Freda Igbinowahia

Chapter One


LIST OF VALUABLE GIRLS
1. JULIUS BEGGERS - PEACE, ADAEZE, CHIAMAKA, ESEOSA, RHODA, JUMOKE
2. CLEAN SWINES - HARRIET, OKE, ADESUA, FREDA
3. KIM KARDASHIANS - MARY, BLESSING, IK, OSASU
4. MISS EINSTEINS - OSARUGUE, YEMI, IFEOMA, FREDA
5. LADIES OF THE VILLA - FREDA, EJIRO, EZIGODE, CHIDERA, JUMOKE.
..............
..........
...


Rhoda couldn't believe her eyes as she stared at the poster pasted on the News Board. Why on earth would anyone do this to her? Rhoda; the kind one who never arrowed; always smelled nice; sometimes gave out her notes to stupid boys who were in trouble for not having one. She'd even copied Rotimi's Geography note last term, from beginning to end - diagrams and all. Why?

''Don't bother, this is just a copy, it's everywhere, even on Facebook," Freda said gloomily as Rhoda attempted to tear off the poster.

"To think they would go through such trouble to even have it printed," Rhoda said in disgust.

"They put my name everywhere, Clean Swines?" Freda said, referring to the ironic phrase which actually meant dirty pig, "Ladies of the Villa, do I act like a village girl?''

"Don't let them get to you, " Rhoda did believe Freda was a bit of a villager but it gained her nothing depressing the girl.

"Of course not, I'm intelligent and by all standards clean, wasn't I part of the editorial board publishing last year's almanac? Have I ever been faulted by inspection? They surely got their facts wrong." She was trying so had to convince herself that she wasn't any of the things they called her, it irked Rhoda.

But Rhoda was sure they weren't acting on true facts, they were only out to mock the girls, filling their list with names so no girl felt 'left out'. For one, she was no Julius Berger or Begger, what ever they called it. Of everyone, she was the one who gave the most. Her notebooks, her provisions, her love and care, but of course boys didn't care for those. He didn't care for those, not her warm greetings, not her company, not her time. She would have loved if she'd been left out of it though.

Rhoda looked around to see some teary-eyed girls moving about like new widows. She spotted Ijeoma amongst them, that one had been the only girl in the Mouth Odour group. Several boys had come to taunt the Girls.

It was a worthwhile task to be reveled for them. In no time, the posters would have to be taken down lest the school authorities find the shameful thing, so they had to enjoy what little time they had to fool the girls before everything became past. But it could really take days before the poster would be found, in the school's official News Board, notwithstanding. Somehow the authorities gave off the impression of being too overwhelmed; too busy to care who did demeaning things to others.

"There's one thing I know Freda," Rhoda suddenly said, "we must avenge."

Just then Mary and Yemi walked briskly towars her. They were Rhoda's closest friends, their friendship going back to their Junior Secondary School One days. On a good day, Rhoda would remember they also were her clique, but right now her mind was assaulted with anger, abuse of trust and a quest for sweet revenge.

"So you've seen it, ah? " Yemi asked gauging Rhoda's mood. Rhoda could be quite temperamental, always quick to frown at a light joke. What she must feel now, Yemi thought, would surely surpass every other.

" This is very uncalled for, " Mary said needlessly," they even put Rhoda's name, and she's the nicest girl, always defending them. " Mary knew what she'd said would please Rhoda, wasn't that her ultimate goal: to always say things that pleased Rhoda?

Rhoda relaxed a bit, and not until then did she really realise she'd been quite tensed. She wasn't surprised, the boys pulled all sorts of tricks on the girls all the time, but somehow she'd managed to always be exempted from the joke.

One time when the boys planned to splash mud on a group of girls, they'd dragged away from the group before carrying out the onslaught.

She'd thought it was because they liked her or because of her relationship with him...

"Sure thing's we are going to have our pound of flesh, " she said finally," on every one of them. "

Rotimi chose that time to pass by. He and his truant friends laughed in their quacky tone, they taunted the girls calling them their new nicknames.

" Get away Rotimi, " Freda said," everyone knows you're not even smart enough to come up with any of those names".

"Yes leave, you ingrate, Rhoda who's always helping you and this is how you pay her back, come and ask favours again, " Mary said this, assuming her usual role as Rhoda's mouthpiece.

" If you don't stop now, " Freda continued," I call IK for you. "

In Junior school IK had given Rotimi the beating of his life, although it was a long time ago, no one had forgotten the image of the big manly IK dealing blows to a big mouthed smallish Rotimi. It had taken the intervention of two teachers to extricate IK from her victim who was already semi conscious and bleeding.

All the girls laughed as Rotimi, having seen the joke turn on him, grumpily bounced, trying hard to make his exit less shameful, making obscene faces and hand signals to them.

But Rhoda still felt betrayed, not by all the boys but by him. Hot tall sexy him.


* * * * * * * *


"The thing about Homeless not Hopeless that is so intriguing, is that in a sense, the beggars have a home, they solidify their position in society by claiming to be natives, mark the word native, of the street, " Miss Atinuke explained wistfully.

It was the nature of tall, fair, slender twenty-five year old Miss Atinuke to be wistful and dramatic in her class. She was one hell of a literature teacher.

She didn't fail to notice that her class today, was divided literally. At one side were all the boys and at the other, all the girls. In fact in the middle row were the girls and boys had to sit on one bench, there were bags separating them. Whatever her students were thinking separating themselves. In a few years, perhaps in the University, they'd be all over themselves. Trust her, she knew.


"They say that they are necessary - well I can't say the same for the beggars in this town."

At the mention of the word beggar, some of the boys giggled and Miss Atinuke attributed their laughter to what she'd said but they'd been thinking of Julius Beggar.

"So you see, the tone Sola Owonibi gives the beggars make them proud of their own existence and therefore gives them a home, albeit not a physical one, I mean for sure, a home isn't a physical place, its a feeling of acceptance and belonging, both of which the beggars have. "

"Please teach us what is in our scheme over sabi," Oke whispered to her seat mates' hearing.

"But of course that is not what you'll write during your WAEC, I just want us to always think outside the box and follow our feelings, because in art your feelings are never wrong. Any questions?"

Up went 'Mischievously Cool Jeff to the ery's hands. It would be an incredibly stupid question if Jeff was the one asking. It wasn't that he was stupid, he just liked to make a nuisance of himself. The class braced themselves for a good laugh.

"I understand this poem is about the dichotomy " as Jeffery said the big word he nodded to his fellow boys who hailed him," of social class, what the rich does that the poor cannot afford? "

" Exactly," Miss Atinuke answered.

"Yes, and I was drawn to these lines 'you slump in the warmth of your beds and the heat of loved ones', and I realised he meant, you know, $£x, is he trying to suggest that beggars don't do it, because I surely know otherwise. "

At this point, the whole class went berserk with laughter.

"Jeffery Aighewi," Miss Atinuke said, clearly flushed, after the class had settled, "I'm pretty sure you know he meant 'sleep' by those lines, and what was in focused was where they slept, cozy bed, cardboard paper."

"Oh, " Jeffery said, feigning realisation," well, now I know."

"Any more questions? " - any more intelligent questions, Miss Atinuke had been tempted to say, but she didn't want any more uproarious laughters.

Rhoda raised her hand, and some backseat boys moaned," ITK, " they chorused silently.

"Ma, the belief that the beggars in the poem had about their being necessary is, like you said, untrue of present-day society, no one cares for beggars anymore, isn't it sort of pretentious for the poet to still claim so, I think he got it from Aminato Sow Fall's novel, Beggar's Strike. "

"Rhoda, it is not proper to claim an author got something from somewhere when he did not state so, there is thematic similarities no doubt, I think Sola Owonibi was writing from another time in the past where beggars were really beggars with no other choice. It's not pretentious, it is not asking us to do something about the poem, it's instead like an ode to the beggars. "

Many hands were raised after that. For the boys felt like the girls had somehow won by asking what they deemed an intelligent question. See, in FUS, everything was competition and score, and after Rhoda 's question, the scoreline clearly read 1-0 in favour of the Girls.

After the class, which was the last before closing, Rhoda and her clique prepared to go back to their thing to daub on powder and lip gloss.

As they left the class, Rhoda saw the last person she wanted to see. Him.

Osemekhian was the head boy. He was very tall, fair and sexy, they'd been only casual friends although many classmates thought there was more to it. He was however a science student.

"Hi, " he said.

"Hi, to yourself," she retorted, and strolled pass like she didn't know him.


"What's going on? " Osemekhian asked Jeffrey who'd been standing by his side, astonished by the cold shoulder treatment.

"I think she's still seething over that poster prank we played on the girls." Jeffery replied nonchalantly.

"What poster prank? Hey! I thought I told you to remove her name, you know how she can get with these things, " Osemekhian had an angel's voice, with that smooth, soothing tone, somewhat like the singer, Seal's.

"I forgot," Jeffery lied, 'and besides, I didn't want it to look like she was in on it, exempting her would have aroused unnecessary suspicion of the other girls, and you wouldn't want that for her, you know girls. "

Jeffrey didn't give a hoot what happened to Rhoda, he'd wanted her in that list, and he'd put her there.

"Okay, but get ready to tell her this when I bring her around."

"What's your own with the girl sef, she's not that fine, over sabi, over frown, with her only-me-na-sadness face, I don't understand o. "

"You will never understand, we're just friends."


* * * * * * * * *


Eseosa walked with Jubril, they held hands but as they passed the teachers' staff room, they let go.

"What you boys did is annoying, it's a very expensive joke o. "

"Many of us were not aware of it though," Jubril said.

Eseosa noticed that he didn't say he wasn't aware instead he said many of us, meaning that he was aware. She was used to Jubril's evasion tactics.

"They said I was a begger, have I ever begged before? "

"Well, you remember that time when we were with Jeffery and David, and you said you didn't like the Parle G I bought, yet you still took the whole biscuit, that some sort of begging you know."

"So they were the ones who wrote that?"

"I don't know, Eseosa."

"You know, Jubril."

"Okay, yeah, they were the ones, I don't know why you guys are so angry, it's just a joke, nothing more, " Jubril said, truly amused by the girls' reaction.

But Eseosa didn't share the same views, with her mind eye, she saw the scoreboard and the Guys were leading in the most important competition - pranks.

* * * * * * * * * * *



Rhoda as president of the Ladies Scorned called a meeting of her most trusted friends, all of whom had been 'affected'. They held the meeting in the middle of night, with IK the least pretty and most manly, watching the door for Miss Atinuke, the house mistress' steps.

Except from the lamp covered with a wrapper, the room was gloomily dark.

"For many terms now, the boys have manipulated and intimidated us," Freda said "they have used us and dumped us without a moment's thought.."

"English! Freda, we are tired of English!" this was from Yemi, "Imagine me, Miss Einstein! I don't know book abi? They will see."

''They called me Kim Kardashian, that is supposed to mean I'm shapeless or not so endowed, I mean, are they so mean?" Mary cried, to the dismay of the others.

"Enough already!" Rhoda said, "I hope that's enough to get us real angry, let's get our heads together and think up the cruelest, wickedest plan there is."

The group shook their heads in agreement, their long shadows hovering over them.

"Intel?" Rhoda asked.

Eseosa and Adesua shifted in their sits, Eseosa cleared her throat, "we investigated and came to the conclusion that although some of the boys were aware of the plot, only two boys participated in this insult and we have their names."

Looking at a sheet of paper, Eseosa continued," except from the two boys, the headboy who is the president of that repulsive Men Cave approved of their joke too, the names of the boys are Jeffery Aighewi and David, the one with an agada."

"So we are going to plot against the culprits, Jeffery and David, " Adesua said.

"And Osemekhian too" Rhoda said curtly

Gasps from the girls.

"Are you sure you want to include Osemekhian?" Freda asked the question on everyone's mind, "aren't you guys...?" She made a gesture to suggest intimacy.

Rhoda frowned, "apparently, he didn't think of that when he approved a thing like that."

"So what are we going to do?"

"Tomorrow morning, we are marching to the boy's hostel to give them a sparring," Rhoda instructed.

"That will be great, " the girls chorused. Everyone loved a sparring match, FUS fashion.

"Since we have only three people to deal with, I suggest we do it individually, it has to be cruel and well planned, we'll brainstorm and come out with an awesome plan." Rhoda remembered something, "and no leaking out secrets, the boys were able to pull that cruel joke because no one leaked their secrets."

Everyone nodded in agreement, and one girl suggested oath-taking which every other person rejected.


* * * * * * * * * * * *




Bange Bange Bange Bange, ah yakata!

Bange Bange Bange Bange, ah yakata!

Ah yakata, ah yokoto!

Ah yokoto, ah yakata!

Ehhhhhhh, gbish!

Ah yakata!!!

The girls moved toward the Boy's Hostel with a frenzied gyration that dangled between anger and insanity. They carried with them, buckets and spoon to hit it with. They danced and stumped their feet in unity. Wearing only their nighties, they fought the early morning cold with their energetic dances. Several junior students had been annoyed and reluctant to come out, what was their business with protesting for seniors any way? But it was mandatory and they had no choice.

They soon stood at the gate of the Boys Hostel. Rhoda led them in another strength-sapping song.

"Bange the Bange," she shouted.

"I hear you, " chorused the girls.


Bange the Bange, I hear you!

Destroy the ground, I hear you!

I will pay for it, I hear you!

I will pay for it, I hear you!


This time, IK led the song. A group of junior boys had gathered outside the gate. They stood akimbo and sometimes, laughed at something the girls were doing.


Tell them say we nor go marry boys were wor wor!

Tell them say we nor go marry boys were wor wor!


The senior boys began to come out of their hostels, they laughed at the girls rejection of marriage. Suddenly, Jeffery raised a comeback in the form of a song. His voice was thick and forceful and the boys' rich masculine timbre shook the place.


If you want to be a member write us application!

Write us, write us, write us application!

Boy's Hostel na leader, eh!

Girl's Hostel na member, eh!


The girls were now angry and tried to think of any song to counter the boys' but the boys weren't done.

Jeffery led the boys in yet another song, through out this time, Osemekhian was no where to be found.

Does he feel too big for a sparring match? Rhoda thought.

See how dem dey look o!

See how dem dey look o!

Looku Looku!


Una know wetin dey reign, yawa!

Una know wetin dey reign, yawa!

Rhoda come class o, she nor wear pant o, na im be de tin were de reign, yawa!

Mary come class o, she nor wear pant o, na im be de tin were de reign, yawa!


As the girls realised they were now being personally picked on, they marched back angrily to their dormitory, punishing any junior who had laughed at the jest on the way.

Meanwhile, the boys kept singing and shouting, '2 - 0!'

come and continue oh

Pls continue

Chapter Two



The tea tasted a tad above chalky. That the expression 'coloured water' had become a cliche in boarding schools, did not, in any way, affect the authorities to do something about it.

And the combo of bread and boiled eggs was not exactly the tantalizer Rhoda needed to down the whole thing in a shrug. Whoever thought that boiled eggs should go with bread? At least the bread was always fresh.

"Who wants my egg? " she asked her table.

A junior raised her hand, but Yemi slapped it down almost instantly.

"Don't you know your mate?" Yemi could never pass a chance to show her seniority, she loved to punish juniors.

In boarding school, it was the seniors that made life terrible for juniors with their constant rules about everything. One senior had even punished a girl for not sharing her bucket! And should a junior report, that one would have only signed her 'death' certificate.

"Sorry, senior."

"Sorry for yourself, report yourself to me in the hostel. I'll have that," Yemi said, frowning at the junior.

"Bully, " Rhoda teased.

Yemi had an unending craving for eggs, but she never ate her eggs deeply fried or sauted, or as she would put it, whatever mutilation they (the cooks that keep bringing up methods of cooking) thought of. Boiling was the closest eggs should ever have to endure, she maintained.

She liked the ovalness, the nutritious richness - it was in all classes of food - and the symbolisms surrounding it. It was a symbol of fertility and purity and yet the practical icon for impurity - nothing could illustrate the state of impureness as a rotten egg. Yemi had a fetish for eggs that someone who didn't know her well would conclude was superficial.

"Did you bring the sardine and mayonnaise? " Rhoda whispered to Mary.

Even the SS3s were not exempted from Miss Osaji's No Contraband Rule. The oversabi, who refused to marry and live a happy life, did not have anything useful to do other than make life difficult for students.

It was ordinarily not an offence to eat sardine in school. Although that item was regarded as contraband, many staff would over look it, but not the sadist, Miss Osaji, she scrutinized everything the students ate when she was on duty as dining mistress. Her eyes never missed a thing and she was strict, to an inhuman fault.

For pete's sake, the food sucked, one should be allowed to always sneak in some appetizing accompliments, Rhoda thought.

She hated the days Miss Osaji was on duty, such days could be filled with neck-bending stealthiness that one often wondered what Ms Osaji could do, aside the usual punishment.

But Ms Osaji could really be a blood-sucking witch, if she so desired. She'd once made half of the school go hungry for coming to dining a minute late. The boys didn't give her much airtime, so her nose was always turned to the more emotional girls.

But for its unhygienic state, Rhoda would have eaten in her hostel, at least there she would be free to eat whatever she liked. But she couldn't stand the smell that had become her hostel. Some girls did not learn from their mothers how to wash their things properly. They defiled the hostel with their putrid... ugh, Rhoda didn't want to think about it.

Mary had cut the fish into bits to allow for easy slipping in between bread. As Rhoda ate, she looked toward the boy's section. The dining hall was separated by instinct - the boys just knew where to sit, likewise the girls.

No time was better at knowing people and the groups they belonged to like food time. In the dining hall, people sat according to 'status'.

The blokes - girls who behaved like boys - sat opposite the gays - it wasn't like they did themselves, these boys that behaved like girls, it was just a name - some cruel people even referred to them together as the LGBT. Before the end of breakfast, chunks of bread and yolks of eggs would have been thrown stealthily between the queer groups. Once, a fight had ensued and anyone could guess which group had started the fight and which group had ran away like cowards.

There were the Dumb Arses (boys and girls divisions), the Rich Also Cry - basically a group of students who depend on their rich parents for everything, the Football Freaks comprising mostly of boys, they were to be seen arguing vehemently Messi and Ronaldo every evening, Rhoda always wondered how they managed not to fight with all the fervour they exhibited while arguing.

Closely following them were the Fashion Freaks. These ones knew all the brand names: Ferragamos, Giuseppe Zanotti, Fendi, Versace, Christian Louboutin - they did not pronounce the Italian words wrongly, they knew about Dr 90210, the best toning creams, what colour should go together, the hair do's and hair don'ts of fashion. They were chic but their sandals still remained tattered and their uniforms, shabby.

Then there were the Hausa-looking Edo northerners from Auchi - those ones always had everything from thread and needles, to buttons to even coal iron. The Lagosian (not necessarily Yorubas) who mistook Ekpoma for Yorubaland, always ejo'ing and eshe'ing and kilode'ing and Eko ni gbaje o'ing in Esanland.

And then there were the Know It All or ITKs or Snubs International, Rhoda still didn't understand how they classified her into this group. She really never acted like she knew everything, just that some people's errors - especially English blunders - were too blatant to ignore without a correction.

Osemekhian's group was simply known as Hot (a mandatory sigh is required during pronunciation of this word). They were best at everything - they knew it but did not flaunt it, they were easy on the eyes and easy to approach.

Jeffery, Osemekhian's best friend from time immemorial, was considered part of this elite flawless group but Rhoda thought otherwise. She hated the very air he breathed. He was so cruel, too quick-witted for her liking, always with the last word - the sharp biting reply. It didn't matter if it was risqué, he'd say it and feel good about it and smile to his teeming followers who were ever ready to laugh over any word that proceeded from the almighty 'mischievously cool' Jeffery's mouth. He was so ungentlemanly, so unlike Osemekhian.

She watched Osemekhian eat uncomplainingly, he was so cute - even sexy - noshing that bread. Boys were like that, they weren't fuzzy about food. Looking at him made her remember her cold shoulder treatment. She'd not meant to be that brusque with him but she'd been really angry. She'd however shaken off the anger now, especially knowing she'd get her revenge. 'Revenge' was too cruel a word, one would think she wanted to take a life. It was just a pay back joke, after all, a joke can never really hurt.



* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


Held every week day, in the Queen Idia Memorial Hall, the school assembly was different things for different people.

For the administrative staff, it was a time to bore the students to death with their factual reportage of the academic conquerings of the school, or at least that was what the students thought.

For the teaching staff, it was time to pray fervently, or otherwise stand akimbo behind the students.

For the prefects, it was time to show their sharp sightedness and disdain for poor hygiene.

While for the other students, it was a time for side talk and mocking of teachers. In short, it was the time every student loved to hate.

The students filed in straight lines in their sky blue shirt and trousers or flouncy skirts , the trousers and skirt's colour being a tone lighter. The Navy Blue blazers were for the SS3s.

The minute Mr Olowo climbed the dais, everyone tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to stifle their laughter. Mr Olowo was, by no fault of his, a funny man. His frame - large pan-like head, small shoulders that made his oversized shirt sloppy, his bulging rounded stomach, God, it was just too much for one person to bear - was caricature-like. Then there was his heavy accent where he 'hate food' and 'ate sin'.

Mr Olowo was pastor at the assembly, it was the title he held only then. His tattered bible was the size of a 10 inches tablet, but the weight of a carton of indomie. It was heavy and old, it seemed so, the people who carried it for him said so, the people who he'd hit on the head with it said so.

"Let's pray, " he shouted, his voice coarse, "Father Lord! We thank you for today, we hare not desarving, but you kept hus, Father teach hus ow to ate sin like you do..."

The students' response was 'unencouraging' - his own words. So he resorted to his usual tactic - threatening with death.

"Hi know hey student who lost both parents the same day because he refused to pray... the same day! "

At this, the students, not wanting to lose their parents, much less, on the same day, began to pray more seriously. It was for their good that they prayed, what mattered if a little fibbing achieved the result. And then Mr Olowo had seen a lot, it was possible he wasn't fibbing at all.

Usually, both Muslim and Christian prayers were taken, except the days when Mr Olowo led prayer, there was never enough time for Muslims after Mr Olowo's long sessions. After the prayers, the principal climbed the dais to do what he did best at assemblies - bore the student.

"Good morning students, " he was a stocky man and one could tell that from his voice without seeing him.

"Good morning sir," chorused the assembly.

The principal - nicknamed Principled Principal for his... well, really for the purpose of pleasing him, but he was also disciplined and reasonably consistent - brushed through the formalities of emphasizing hygiene and discipline to determination and hardwork.

"We got another report from the notice board. "

'Report from the notice board' was the Principal way of talking about a note written by an anonymous student about things going on in the school. The students called it the snitch's note, and many of them, suspected the snitch was more than one person because the snitch knew what happened in both boy's and girl's hostels.

The snitch's note was juicy and gisty. But it was elusive because it was quickly torn down by its first reader. And unfortunately for students, they were rarely its first reader. It was the school's vigilante hero.

This note contained, in block letters, a list of who was dating who, what new ills were going on in school and who did what injustice to who. It reported students and teachers alike, in unbridled language. That, the principal frowned at but from experience, he knew it was always true.

At one time, the principal had promised the sum of five thousand naira to anyone who could tell him the identity of the snitch. But when the snitch's note had uncovered the students behind the breaking and entering in the principal's office, the principal, as a form of gratitude, had rescinded this offer.

"We are going to investigate as usual, and if we find the accused ones guilty, they will be surely punished. "

With that he ended the assembly.

Everyone dreaded the snitch. Should the snitch be found out, it was redundant to say that his days would be numbered.



* * * * * * * * * * *



The teacher who had boldly written

GOVERNMENT

DISENFRANCHISEMENT

on the magic board, and dutifully given his note to the prefect to dictate to the rest of the class was, as expected, absent when the class-shaking fight occurred. It was IK vs Rotimi 2. What UFC would have given to host the much awaited rematch in its Octagon.

The octagon ring would have been a good idea, considering the many chairs and desks that were smashed up in the loveless battering of a match. What started as an altercation about an infamous name-calling list Rotimi could not shut up about, ensued into a blow for blow, teeth for teeth pounding.

IK was, from the onset, better matched, having held the record for successfully thrashing whoever crossed her path - age and gender notwithstanding - a feat even Ms Rousey would be jealous of. And having particularly whooped this opponent's arse before, she was more than confident going in, that this would be a walk in the park.

But Rotimi had put on several kilos, and was not the smallish child-minded boy she had fought years before, a fact she would better appreciate minutes into the fight. He was, no doubt, an unskilled fighter, he left too much face for her to pound, and far too much ribs for her to try to crush.

But after the fight, she would come out, albeit victorious, feeling violated. For while she'd been giving him a professional whacking, he'd been groping her br3ast, and fingering at her panties (which was not a usual choice for her, she preferred tights), pulling up her skirt and shouting "which colour?" And as he'd done this violation, his fellow males, and even females, had laughed and hailed him, because he'd done what she couldn't do, what was exclusively male.

She should have hit him where it would really hurt, his s¢rotum, but even touching that privacy would not have been violation, as his was. It irked her, that although, she was stronger and a better fighter, he could somehow have an upper hand, just by being male.

After the fight, he, Rotimi would look the battered, with swollen eye and swearing he'd broken a rib. But she had not broken anything, not even a scratch, but it was she who couldn't look at her classmates for the rest of the day because they knew the colour of panties she'd worn - and that somewhat gave them an exclusive right to her most intimate parts.

After the fight, no one would mention the List of Valuable Girls again, because as IK pounded on Rotimi, she pounded on every boy who'd want to jest, and because their fight marked the playing out of that cruel joke.

But she wasn't deterred, if he came looking for trouble again, she'd fight him again, and next time, she'd nak€d him, because she knew she could and because, right that moment as she felt shame seep through her skin, she promised herself she'd never be humiliated this way again.

Days later, after she'd written a report of her conduct and had been threatened with expulsion, she'd return to a class where every eyes held respect or fear for her, and her friends would hail her, saying, "nobody talks about that list again o, they are afraid of you."

She'd learn that Rotimi had lost Men Cave street cred for being thoroughly beaten by a girl, but the fact that he'd had street cred before would surprise her. What should have lost him street cred, she thought, was that he'd even consider fighting a girl. She did not believe women were the weaker gender, but she had never seen any dignity in a man raising his hand to strike a woman - it was too much weakness for her.



* * * * * * * * * *


In the depth of night, that time when the snore's the loudest, a darkly figure roamed the rooms of the boys' hostel. For all the sound he made, he might as well have floated and passed through doors, he settled for a while upon a junior boy, and then another.

Some said he used 'jazz', some kind of juju that made sure he was never caught, other thought he was a gay ghost sent from hell to give people spiritual HIV. But many agreed, although jokingly, to 'cover their @rses with the blood of Jesus'.

In the morning, some junior boys would complain of back pain and anal pain, and some would suspect that their sleeping shorts had been slightly drawn towards their legs to expose their bare bottoms, but there was never any tangible proof.

An audacious little boy would cry all morning, whispering to whoever asked that he'd been anally r@ped, it is "touched' he'd use, but it wouldn't help his issue that he was the same boy who'd claimed to see a white shirt walk by itself and hear the ghost of a boy who had been smothered in his sleep.

This darkly figure, after having his fun with the juniors, went to his partner. He roused the other and they did things on the top bunk. If people knew of this unnatural relationship, they never said a word, perhaps it was all too strange for them.

And between the boys, it was not something they'd talked about, it was a tacit arrangement, only the eyes talked in the matter. It would start with one buying the other things, and defending the other from other guys, they'd even have girlfriends whom they talked about in the day, but at this dead night, it was another part of them that talked.

It was a convenient thing for them, and they were the most vocal in the day, saying, "I hate gays!"

Many parents felt relieved in FUS, seeing that it was a mixed school, they felt assured that such ungodliness could not happen, but perhaps it wasn't the absence of girls that cause such malfunctioning, perhaps, it was the presence of too many boys.

this chapter just reminds me of my secondary school days really awesome chapter and tanks for the update.
boarding school is really fun

Good read!keep it coming! Thank you

Following with speed...cum update please.