All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, stored, in any retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior permission from Me, Lekan Joshua the Author.

ONE

Early that morning, I felt something was off but I couldn't figure it. And I didn't try to, it's not like I had the luxury of time. What was important there and then was the English class I had that morning. The teacher was a helluva disciplinarian-though I don't think so, but then that's wha we should call them, disciplinariansand not wicked folks. I took my bathing cap, hurriedly put it on and took five quick paces to the bathroom. As I brushed and excrete at the same time, I looked around the brightly lit bathroom and scenes started unfolding. I remembered my uncle telling me the room was mine.
'Really?' I shrieked. I had carefully walked into the room and took it all in. The bed, the reading table across it, the dressing table and the large mirror beside it, the decor, the lights, the bedding, the closest. It was magnificient. I had asked if it was indeed MY room twelve times in a five minutes. I was filled with great joy and was afraid to crush the beautiful space with the tumultous excitement in me. Now four years after, I still loved the room and still felt the adrenaline. But as I stormed out of the bathroom five minutes later, I didn't care if the force with which I slammed the door would bring the whole house crumblimg.
I slapped my watch to my wrist and oh! No! I had 20 minutes to make the class. The watch was a tiny piece mum gave me for Christmas five years ago. It was durable and required changing its battery say thrice a year. Though it wasn't some expensive fashion item, I'd relied on it to check the hour, minute and second. And while I'd acquired other watches, it remained my school watch. I reached for my tag and that instant, my heart sank. I glanced down at my watch and behold it was dead. The wall clock had indicated six thirty-five contrary to my watch's six forty, it took me a second to realize that my watches and the clock had always indicated the same hour and minute.
'Oh no! I need a watch' I'd muttered. Thankfully I was close to my closet. I pulled a drawer and picked the nearest watch, it was worth a lot in dollars. My aunt passed it on (after she'd used it for a month) last year.
'Just take good of it' she'd said when I said my thanks. I'd taken good care of it and treasured it. I only wore it on occassions when I had to look my very best. I sighed, I didn't look my best when I went to school and I sure don't want to wear this to school. But I didn't want to spend another minute picking another watch and seeing if it was the right one or not. 'Moreso, I'd wear this treasured watch for a day and I'll return it when I get back'. I patted my hair and looked in the mirror, not bad for a ten minutes dress up. I shouted my goodbyes to my family and stepped into the dark. The first second I shut the door behind me and the next I realized my mistake- I didn't have my sweater. I had stepped into a warm shower minutes ago and I didn't feel a bit of cold. So there was no need for 'sweaters', I didn't even think about it. But I was going to pay, big time.


I scurried along the untarred road hugging myself. I wasn't going to trek to school no no no. For one I didn't have the time and energy. I had missed breakfast and the previous day's dinner and the lunch was meagre. I thought to myself 'I'm going to need mid-day meal today'
Even though I wanted to conserve energy and time, trekking the next two hundred metres to the point where the tar started was necessary. The day was still breaking and it was still dark. While I could see enough to be able to walk, I tried to carefully pick my way. The road was filled with pot holes and the last thing I needed was to step in one. So with my arms crossing each other gripping my shoulders, I walked on as fast as I could and got to the tar. I let out a little victorious sigh. 'The next thing is to get a ride to school'


There was one thing to do, wait. So I waited and felt the breeze blow my hair as the watch ticked by. I had spent the last five minutes walking as fast as I could from the house to this point, my heart was still pounding and I felt a bit warm from the effort. I looked around for a chair or bench or short table, but there was none. Shop owners often kept benches outside their shops in my neighbourhood but the shop I was standing in front of was going to help me sit. So I passed the time by thinking through the last twelve hours...

TWO


We had just returned from church after the evening worship and I couldn't wait to see the movie I got from a friend because I love movies and hey! I'd been working all weekend. I had tons of assignments and a truckload of house chores- bathrooms to be cleaned, kitchen to be polished and laundry. I had done it all and yes I decided to take my time and play a little. So I had rushed inside and changed my wears before I flipped the laptop open, connected it to the extension box and sank in the bed to enjoy my treat. Mom had asked me to go for dinner but I replied with an incoherent sentence, she chose to call me at a suspense filled point- the villain was winning and there was just thirteen minutes twenty seven seconds to the end of the movie. I wanted to see the hero save the day. He would have to, if the film producers don't want me to crush the laptop. Though the laptop wasn't going anywhere, I didn't even go to use the bathroom, and mum's talking about dinner? No mama, dinner'd have to wait. The movie ended as a tragedy- the hero saved the day but late. He had killed the villain but, his lover died minutes later in his arms. She was a sweet lady and didn't deserve to die. I could feel the pain of the hero and I really felt sorry for him. For some minutes, I watched the frozen laptop but didn't see it. I was sombre and thought about life, movies do that. They make you pause and check yourself. My vision wasn't clear and I knew why, I was shedding tears and consoling the hero- in my mind. I was brought back to reality by my phone's vibration. When phones vibrate, more often than not, in this age, it is usually a new message- from whatsapp. What do they do on whatsapp? People chat. And that's what I did. I chatted with the sender- my friend, Yetunde. We talked about a lot- her little cute neighbour, my quiet and remote area, our church pastors' daughters, our hairstyles, the bad boys in school, our prize contenders, her arrogant cousin's wedding, the state government and NEPA. She had taunted
'u beta relok8 2 my area'
'what! God 4bid, where dere's no lyt? Abeg park well'
then I waited for her reply. I'd seen YEYE IS TYPING and the next moment SEEN TODAY 01:14. I knew there and then that her battery was out. That's all to living in her area- lively, interesting, fascinating but bad power supply. I'd choose a quiet boring place with power supply a million times.


I yawned and decided to say good night (although it was technically a new young morning) to every one online but found out my class' whatsapp group was bubbling with actitivity and messages were streaming in by the second. I joined in the coversation and it was fun but twenty minutes later I couldn't force myself to stay awake. I tried but my body won't let me. During those few seconds between when you are awake and unconscious, it happened. I saw it clearly 'don't 4get tiger's 7am class 2morrow...' I wanted to read through but couldn't, not even the fear of Tiger could keep me awake for a second but I wished it had. I had slept, woken up, had a short prayer and stormed out of the house five hours later.
Something moved and I snapped out of my thoughts instantly.
In the four minutes that I'd been standing, I had seen goats, heard cocks crow, heard the announcer's voice from a not too far away radio set. I had heard the distant bell of a preacher and a mother getting mad at her children. I'd only worried about getting a quick ride- not safety. It had been an incomprehendable form at first then it was clearer. It was the form of a man, was he bending or trying to get on his feet? If he was bending I'ld have seen him. But, he was standing up- stealthily.
In the years that I'd lived in my area, there had been no big crime. Some teenagers had climbed into someone's compound to steal his fowl but were caught. At another time a boy stole three small fishes from the woman across the street selling fried fish. There had been other few stories of petty crimes- though most were unbelievable and could be rumours. So yes, there'd been no major crime like rape, kidnap, armed robbery or others of such. And the area was safe- as a lion's belly. But when I saw some young man suspiciously get up few metres from me, I didn't feel safe. I'd fearfuly stepped further away into the open (I'd been standing under the shop's roof extension) and braced myself.


I could feel my heart pounding furiously and for a second I was afraid to die of a heart attack. There's no history of heart attack in my family and I was too young to show symptoms but times like this when you're afraid, you'd imagine stuffs that happen in movies happening to you. In the space of twenty seconds, he had stood up and fallen four times and each time he came closer, I took a step backward. I was shaking and felt beads of sweat on my forehead. I willed myself to run but it seemed like he controlled my mind and my brain and my feet. I felt heavy, I was losing it. Then I heard a vehicle...

THREE

I felt a tiny bit of relief, but just for a second- it disappeared that instant because I saw the drunk walking briskly, he wasn't staggering, he was beaming with energy. I couldn't make out his face but I saw his lips tight and wide and probably two teeth- he was smiling, a smile that I deciphered as
'yes I'll get you' I'd thought he was faking been drunk all this while just to get my attention and bless my soul I'd done nothing but moved few metres away in fear. This wasn't happening to me, I wasn't going to be hurt early in the morning on a deserted road but those were just thoughts, I was shaking teribbly and I felt numb, I opened my mouth but heard my gasp of fear, he seemed to be controlling my mind and my brain and my body. When he was close enough, two things happened. He threw up loudly and I jumped, and he fell greatly, I froze. As I watched him try to get up again, I caught a glimse of the vehicle and my legs carried me into the road and my hands stretched out and rhytmically went up and down making a small arc that makes it look like I was just stretching my hand when observed by someone hundred metres away. And for a while, the world stopped. I heard a noise and checked, the vehicle was right there running slowly. Just then, I froze for the millionth time that morning. But this time, I wasn't inactive, I was going to be safe so instead of being heavy, I pulled at the door, jumped in the vehicle and shut the door quickly as I murmured my thanks and willed the vehicle to jet off.
After three minutes of the ride, I was getting calm and took in my environment then I perceived something. A smell- freshly baked bread. It was familiar and rare, I turned my heard sharply and felt the pain in my neck. I was right. At the wheel was my neighbour. I smiled and relaxed. I asked after his family and he said they were fine. I didn't expect any other answer though, if you were asked how your're doing, it's usually rhetoric but then you have to answer out of courtsey. My neighbour went to a catering school of some reputation and he's a good chef. He's arguably the best baker in town but people won't believe. He makes bread and delivers on request. His merchandise doesn't litter the streets, they find their way into the graceful and affluent homes of the rich and elites. He was driving moderately fast and willed him to drive faster and as if on cue, he changed the transmission and decellerated, it made me want to punch his face. We drove in silence and for lack of a thing to do I tried to replay the past ten minutes but, nothing came out of it. I glanced at my watch six fifty-nine. He pulled over two minutes later and I said 'thank you' as I slammed the door shut.
It was still cold and I walked quickly into the school compound. I greeted the guards as the colder breeze greeted me and I hugged myself tighter. The missionaries who owned the property had planted trees and my school was known for it. Apart from academic excellence, we had a beautiful compound with a lot of TREES. As I moved hurriedly towards the blocks, I began to prepare for Tiger's pouncing. When he says seven, he meant seven. He'd beat you if you were a minute late. Splbhshsa, 'oh no' I cried, I had stepped in a pool of dirty water and it had splashed on me. My shoes were wet and the cold attacked me fiercer. Then for the second time the day, I felt something was off. I got to my classroom block but felt and heard no human presence. I wasn't sure what that meant but I moved on anyways and I briefly thought back to the encounter with the drunk. I had been afraid before but never close to panick. In our short exchange my neighbour had asked jokingly if I was keeping SJ company. 'SJ?' I'd asked
'yes now, wasn't he the one behind you?'
'I didn't know' I'd said. SJ was known in the neighbourhood. No one seems to know his history. There're a lot of cooked up tales about him. Some said he was manipulated by his step mom who was a witch and that he trekked from his hometown in Ondo and landed in Ogbomoso. Another school of thought opined that SJ became deranged due to alcohol. The two schools have variations that are probably told to suit their audiences- I was one. Whatever, SJ did menial jobs and drank. He didn't and doesn't strike me as a rapist so why did I panick? I thought through and settled in. I'd watch a film last night, and what happened to me that morning resembled one of the scenes but with exceptions. The girl was an undergraduate, leaving for home after a party. The rapists were not drunk but sober. She was raped and not rescued by a neighbour. Then I realized for the first time that I wasn't going to be raped. It was just some mentally disabled drunk and his show...

FOUR and FINAL!

For the first time that day, I laughed. Seven o three. I took the final three steps to my classroom and for the third time that day more than I'd felt, I knew something wasn't right. But what? I knocked and opened the door, I gasped. The room was virtually empty. No Tiger, no student. What was off? I'd tried to analyze it and came up with two things. One Tiger's reputation and two a student's prank.
Tiger had a reputation for being a good handler but more than that, he was highly disciplined and wasn't easily compromised. Tiger kept his word and is respectable. Though he can beat, no student had had less than C six in English in both WASSCE and NECO SSCE in the past years that he'd been the final year students' handler. I'd thought He's a psychologist or something. He had said something about extra classes when the term started. I dropped my back pack on a table and thought. 'for this term no extra classes, if there would be, I'd take you in the afternoon...' that was it! So the first option was out and it dawned on me. Someone's playing a prank on me! Me, Foluke Cole! They'd pay for this. I pulled my phone from my bag and switched the device on. As I wait for its booting, I thought about how I got here. I had seen a message indicating Tiger's class, I'd woken up, said my prayers and told Dad about the class. No sweetie, he wouldn't take me. I didn't tell him before and he didn't schedule it. He had offered to put in a word with Bro Olatunji (Tiger's a usher in my church, Dad calls him Bro like a lot of peopld do- in church) I said no, I didn't want to be that spoilt brat always depending on her parents. I'd taken my bath dressed up and gone out. I tapped the whatsapp icon and couldn't wait to see it. I found the message I was looking for and I sat on a chair, I'd suddenly felt more cold. The class was for SS2 students and the poster had rebroadcasted it- in a SS3 group. I wanted to strangle him but I didn't know him. Not by his profile name and d.p, the group's admin would hear this.


I was angry and bitter, I had raised my hand and banged the table with deep annoyance but was replied with the shattering of glass. The precious watch was broken. I was deflated and I sat for five minutes deciding on what to do- clean up my uniform, wash up and grab a meal at the boarding house. I picked my watch's fragments and poured them in my bag, I made to move but my woes increased by one. My sandal had torn! I checked and sighed. With no watch, a dirty uniform, an unmade-up face and a broken sandals, I did one thing I rarely did- I cried.