✰ a/n + prelude

...


-

Cast




Omowunmi Adunade


Ifelayo Bakker


Maeve Rosen


Adepemisire Bakare



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...

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Epigraph

prancing about; dominating the stage

capturing the audience in a spell

yes, like in a trance, they twirl and thrust themselves

shedding off all and weightless becoming

souls combusting - shooting to outer space

exploding, in shards, in the empyrean

forever entrapped in an entrance.


-

Timeline

started: January/February 2019

I'm sooo excited about this!! And can't wait to start... Please, I'd love it if you share your views, show some support xx. What do you think reading the synopsis alone?

ended: -

MAEVE; colorful, bold, gregarious

HER BLOATED EYES watched the burly man as he hefted her wheeled luggage and carry-on bags into the trunk, slammed its lid shut.

She took her eyes away and to the girl standing beside her; her only best friend since childhood, Olamiposi.

Ola pulled her eyes away too from the man loading the bags into trunk and turned to her, Maeve, staring into nigrescent eyes. "So - this is it?" A hollow echoed after her voice.

Maeve's face lit up as a beacon on a hill and she flashed a smile. "Yes," she breathed. Her dark eyes suddenly clouded with emotions, anticipation and excitement bursting through her.

Ola's chest rose and fell as she cast her gaze downward and flicked her tongue across her bottom lip. She's Maeve's best friend—they are best friends—soul sisters, and if there's anything she should do most for her, it's supporting her. Her dreams.

No matter what.

But are you doing the right thing?

She shuddered at the chilly whisper she's been hearing in her head ever since she snuck out of the mansion at some minutes past one a.m to meet with Maeve there. They've come this far after all, and Maeve isn't one back down from a quest.

She slipped out of her thoughts and raised her head up. "I wish you luck," she said.

Maeve's smile stretched and she extended her arms, bringing them to form into arcs that Ola stepped into. Their bodies clamped, melting and molding into a lump. A goodbye hug. Their final encounter to be had for years. They stood like that for a long time, savouring the moment and the feel until a low horn snatched them out of it.

They broke apart then, releasing each other in a manner that seemed to reflect a part of their heart tearing away within them and being bequeathed to the other.

Maeve felt her guts wrenching, a sad pin lodged in her heart.

They are only friends. Not embodied souls with conjoined destinies. Being friends doesn't mean they shouldn't be able to pursue their own paths.

She stepped out of their proximity while shifting a blue lock to the side of her face, her mouth in a beam that illuminated her round features. Sparks in eyes, giving off a pleasant feeling in her mixed with a tinge of melancholy. How is it possible for her to feel both at the same time?

She spun around, letting go of their last moment finally and began walking to the uber ride in loafer-clad feet. She twisted the car's handle, pulled it toward herself and ducked into the plush interior of the car.

Its engine kicked to life.

In seconds, it was already gliding across the driveway of the Ikoyi mansion and onto the street of the estate. Maeve kept her eyes on the rearview mirror—the image of Ola getting farther as the car cruised forward till it vanished in the night air—just before the car turned onto the Main Road.

And like a chain rending, something was let loose in her.

It floated - feeling unfamiliar for beats before its state sunk in, in her - and erupted. It ripped through the speckles of sadness within her to the surface where it transformed into a plastered grin on her made up face as a single thought ran through her mind. . .

Freedom.

That was it; that was the thing floating in her, with her will being the one casting the chain off.

She was free.

All alone.

Her thoughts sped along with the Toyota Prius now on the highway with others vehicles. Her brain careened into an overdrive, pirouetting as if in a competition with the 1.8-l four-cylinder engine and allowing locked memories filter to its cerebral part.

Fear.

Exhilaration.

Anticipation.

Adrenaline.

Jitters.

Tinkles.

A memory slithered in through the sensations.

"Daddy, what is that?"

"That is the monumental spiral fountain of the late Jeffrey Ogbue, the first Chief Justice of the Lagos City High Court from the Midwestern region."

The little girl's heart flapped. "Can I go see it?"

"No, you'll be a good girl and remain right here in the car."

"But I won't get hurt I promise. I'll stick to the surrounding and stay away from trouble..."

"No, honey. I can't allow that. You'll be alright in here with June. Isn't that right, June?"

"Yessir," the child's personal maid, more like a real mother, replied from the backseat.

But the girl had already withdrawn, shut into herself. Her father didn't pay any notice, being his incognizant self and the BMW X3 lock clicking barely registered in her small mind.

Her soul reached out, yening to go to the building.

To feel the sunshine, walking among the flowers of the environs. . .

‘Retrograde’ flashed in neon lights from the top of a three-story, exotic and sultry looking building with dark shadows dispersed all over it. The sight cut through Maeve's visions, pausing her mind's workings for a minute to absorb in the beauty.

The image zapped by, not quite passing through the afferential stage and being replaced by a skyrising building of a financial establishment.

They were breathtaking. Lovely. All of them. The buildings reaching heavenward, brandishing colorful blend of lights. The skyline of the city of Lagos dissolving into a charm that beckoned to her spirit, trying to pull it out but being restrained by logic and gravity. The car went over a slope that led to a two-lane bridge across the shimmering water of the Cascade Bay. Tiny golden lights mounted to the bridge's rails reflected in it and the moon seemed to be diffused all over its surface. Billboards enchantingly displayed ads of male models and brand products, multinational corporations looking nothing more than bitty boxes against the dark-purple sky in the horizon.

They were cruising at a great speed now, rousing thrills that shot arrows to pierce her fears, and second, and third guesses to fragments.

A maniacal look splashed athwart her face, her soul linking with the formless entities of the city as Taylor Swift's Begin Again played from the in-dash stereo system and sending her senses in a swirl. The wind reached into the Prius, pelting at her blue hair with cold strokes and lifting the tendrils all over her face.

This is her. Her being. Her soul. Her essence.

Being out in the open; being one with the outdoor and going on wild explorations.

She'd longed for this. . .

Freedom do really have a taste like it's always said. And what she, Maeve, is experiencing right there is everything freedom is, tasted like deep down in her core.

Her brain screeched to a tapering halt just as the car decelerated considerably in motion too. They were moving away from the commercial centre, but still on a path joined to it, the suburbans.

Her wildness settled, emotions and new experiences had cataloging and being filed away to the hippocampus in her brain. They went on a slower pace, taking turns and curves deeper into the poshly and quiet parts of the island of Lagos.

"Pearly Heights School?" the driver inquired.

Maeve blinked, craning her neck to stare at the front. "Yah, Pearly Heights," she replied and went back to her mind's haven, looking out the window.

Orange maples dotted the sidewalks of industrial, company and residential buildings mingled with spread out and haloed bluish-white lights from lampposts, drawing a less intensified awe from her. Everywhere seemed just like a Lilliputian heaven. She'd seen it. Plenty of times, but not from this way, this view, all alone. She was used to it and have had her fair share of luxury but this felt different.

She felt one with all the things she'd been seeing. . .

Her eyes held so much emotions cycling in her mind, her lips parting a slight fraction as the car pulled to stop in front of a wide terrain.

They were freaking. In front of Pearly Heights!

She saw rows, and rows, and rows of floors, escalating blocks but not the top. The farthest her eyes could see from where she was was to the thirteenth floor or thereabouts of the College Center. It was the tallest building—and passed for a landmark that could be seen from various parts of the state and bore the name of the institution.

The vicinity was lit up, sparkling so blindly and everywhere was half-alive, the night holding chatty students and incoming ones, busy ones sprawled out on trimmed grasses and either painting or sketching.

"Miss?" the driver called, jolting Maeve out of the spell she was trapped in.

She zapped out of the zone and came to herself, muttered an apology and hurried down from the car. A gaze to the sign lettering mounted high blazed:

PEARLY  HEIGHTS  SCHOOL  OF  ARTS

Her rib cage was still emptied of her heart, caught up somewhere in the metropolis, refusing to believe its reality, and declaring autonomy of her body.

A guard emerged from someplace and began to make his way toward her. He got to her and started to explain to her about how she'd been an expected enrollee, was spotted in the security cameras and was there to take her through the last steps of her admission, guiding her as well.

A memory pined away as soon as it's appeared, her mind glazing over the times she'd been served. She was surprised still, she was all by herself and this wasn't being done for her because of her status or background. She was beyond the clouds, floating past happiness.

They went around to the boot to get her bags and she took out her clutch purse, brought out some official papers the guard had requested for while he helped put down her luggage. Heads turned in their direction and Maeve's heartstrings tugged a wink, a faint panic laving her.

They could not not recognize her?

She prayed deeply to God that her guise was still holding up and by the uninterested expression on their faces, they seemed to have nothing figured out.

She calmed and picked up her duffel bag as the guard lifted up her suitcases in each hand. They walked across the road to the other side of the school's vicinity and stepped across its boundary.

Silent air, star-spangled sky; sweeten scent and roving almond eyes taking it all in, lamps flickered in the distance, down long driveways and—

She stumbled back a step with the force of a bump against another girl.

thwack.

"What the fuckkkk—"

"I'm so sorr—"

"Shove it up your ass!" Maeve spat back and huffed at the girl. She stormed away.

The girl—hair red and deep as blood, dilated eyes framed by small glasses—paused midway to picking up her phone as she stared at Maeve's retreating figure.

Feet away, Maeve's anger recoiled into a strand until she was able to clearheadedly gauge her run-in with the girl.

Why did you lose your calm like that?

*Trigger warning: scene can be disturbing, deals with depression, and thoughts of suicide.*

✰

IFELAYO; grayness, vastness, lifeless

I SHOULDN'T HAVE accepted this.

I f+cking shouldn't have—

Now, things are getting complicated...

SHUT UP.

The ramblings roared in her mind, eating deep into her psyche. The analyses, rationalizations, second-guesses. All slithering through the hypodermis of her skin as they became intenseful.

She ran a hand, thin as a twig, up her face and through her red-blood braids, a pale tongue swiping across dry lips. Glacé eyes took in the patched, second-hand phone in her palm, one that now has thin and cracked lines in crisscrosses across its screen.

A sound thinking human would have confronted the person who bumped into them at least, a functional human.

But not her.

Gathering the courage to even look others in the eye would expel so much of her energy, and willpower, and cells—whatever was responsible for actions in the human body. She could not hold eye contact, much more a confrontation.

A laden sigh breezed out her lips; laden with deep, inexpressible, and years-long mish-mash of physical and emotional memories. It has become a constant act, and one that never seemed to discharge all the sorrows and burdens contained in her body. No, it's like the more she kept releasing, sighing out, the more the murky feelings are being pumped from some "underground soul" into her being.

She jerked her head up, ran her inky eyes through the scenery around her. It was all like a motion picture before her, everything, that she was not a part of.

Sterile white lights shoned from enclosed glasses hung on posts - a brightness so constrasted to and that pricked the darkness in her. She felt its pain in her chest and it refused to let go of her lucent organ for a heart while quiet voices grumbled beneath the assault, pretending as if they were at rest.

Bastards...

They were teasing her. Yes, they were - taunting her with a fleeting quietude, wanting her to dare delight in the moment, in the beautiful surroundings.

But it was a trick. She knew that too well. The voices were stuck to her, or she them. Practically inseparable. She reflected upon for a quick second what her inner life would be like without them.

She'll become hollow then, completely. A human way past her shadow. A body no more than a shell.

Life went on in the campus, at Pearly Heights, before Ifelayo Bakker, fourteen-year-old and unfounded. Everything swirled, rolled, turned, one scene becoming fused with the next.

Young adults chattered with close, loved friends. Some, painting, the night sky; others taking, pictures; and some scribbling, furiously in note books. Not one paying attention to a floaty, depressed Edo girl.

She wished for a wink to be insetted in the life going on. Even if for just a tiny while. To experience what laughter, love, the caring and adoration felt like.

It was a lifetime she felt those ago. . .

The bigger part, of her mind, wanted out. To give, up. Because she'll never be getting it. Whatever she wanted. Happiness, care. Not in a billion years. It's such a wasteful wishing, for something ... something so unachievable. Far up in the night stars.

No.

There's no getting out of this. No way out, except to become drained of blood, and life. Yes.

She dragged over to an humongous mango tree, casting the shade of its leaves about and pressed her back to its bark as if she was going to dissolve into it like in the Yoruba movies.

Ife continued to take in her surroundings with interest and apathy mixed.

Just go... go..., the whispering urged.

I will ... just soon enough..., she answered back.

You're useless, and deserve no good thing, in this life, ever. So useless.

Her sight caught a boy, from the peripheral vision, that seemed to be . . . sketching her? His gaze appeared steady on her, handling some HB pencil . . . she turned in his direction.

His face was in the drawing pad on his laps.

Or just tricks her eyes were playing on her, after all.

It was a dream school, for dreams, and the dream of many, it's said.

Dreams.

Those felt so foreign to her.

Then why was she there?

I don't know...

Maybe a tiny, little flame, of a hope to survive.

Be happy? Better? Get out of the rot in her mind?

Don't know...

Or maybe a chance at living, to try and see if she could experience new things. . ., know herself, from the scratch.

Everything just feels like dreich...

Motivated not to do anything.

Another sigh bubbled out again. She felt exhausted to the soul; mouth dried of anything sticky; her vision lolling behind her eyeballs; subtle pains at the ligaments of her light body, so weak in every dimension that made her up.

The depression was overwhelmingly unusual that night. There she was, given an admission to Pearly Heights School of Arts, and feeling like the most submerged person in the world. She started to feel the brew of a headache, and forced her lids shut together.

She just wanted to sleep.

What kind?

She needed to get back to the Admissions Block. It should be high time they're done with the enrollees before her. She pushed away from the tree with a short burst of strength, and strode down the stone walkway in black pumps, the flakes of her feelings drifting down to the freshly-cut grass behind.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

The door slid silently on its hinges as it swung in, revealing a blank-faced Ifelayo standing on the other side of it. Something whizzed by her - she caught sight of what it might be: a dripping, blue synthetic fiber.

"Room . . . 396? Yes!" the person quipped, and sashayed into the room. Their energy swelled, bursted in the air—as if staking claim on every furniture and lint in the medium-sized room of the sixteen-storied Lodging Quarters of students at PeHSA.

The blue-haired girl whom Ife had come to pin as the one who bumped into her earlier, glided in a ballerina manner, swishing from one corner of the room to another; from a spot to the next—taking in all the exquisite designs of the furniture and on the Oriental rug.

"Awwwwwwhh," the girl gasped, and hopped like a frog to an entire wall made of glass (that reflected objects by the fractured lights fixed into the ceiling). Outside, of the wall and beyond, was space and a vast dark night that held the city radiating in its pulsating glory made of dazzling skyline and alluring buildings.

Blue hair placed a dainty palm to the glass as Ife crossed the threshold, drifted into the room. The girl was hypnotized, getting high off the sensual vibes from the display before her while Ife gurgled some stuffy substance in a pool of internal misery. She cautiously and fearfully padded through the room, past an expensive centre table and to a bed beside another one, both erected at the South wall.

Opposites, they were. The two girls. Extreme Poles of the earth; of a magnet's like ends; positive and negative; yin and yang; the expanding Universe and Inexistence swirling in one atmosphere.

"This is mine!" The girl sang, and jumped backwards on a Twin XL bed adjacent to the window-slash-wall made of glass.

Ife settled onto the bed, light as a feather, and leaving no crease on the woollen, grey sheets. The bed was feet away from a four-door wardrobe at the East wall. The student Ife would now be sharing room with prattled, hurling her bags in, and droning on and on about things she could not comprehend.

Ife stared at everything in the room. There were two more beds, one beside her and one beside the girl's, intended for four students. A black couch, reading desks, table, television—

She crawled back almost at once to the crevice of her mind, to the dark place that shielded her and that she had become complacent with. She'd so gotten lost in her surrounding, venturing past her safe haven to actually be in the present and opening herself.

She felt a biting guilt.

I don't deserve it! I shouldn't be happy...

And then she gladly sank into the mire of her demons, fears, and scars and things unnamed.

"Hey," Her roommate called. She got up from her bed and made her way to where Ife was.

Ife stared, lifelessly, not having a clue as to what to respond or make of what was happening. Hi ..., her mind uttered but the word found its way to no place near being voiced.

"So, I know, we kind of started off on the wrong foot earlier—I'm sorry! Please, pardon my manners, for being so rude to you. I never meant it." Her face was contrite, but a blinding grin broke away from it, lighting up her child's look. "It seems we are roommates—as I can see, sooo here's to. . . the start of a new friendship?" Her confidence wavered a bit but she masked it, shot her arm out to Ife's chest, fingers with maroon nails splayed.

Ife blinked severely, severally, stuck and stumped.

She could not fathom anything as her heartbeat began to rise in ticking, pressing firmer against her ribcage to where she could feel the pain externally, clutching her flesh. Underneath, the mire was tumultuous, starting dizzy spells in effect.

Calm down. Calm. Down! It's just a... a introduction–nothing–

"I'm Ta—Maeve," The girl continued, still stretching her hand forward.

"I-Ife."

'Great. Wasn't that easy?'

'Why does it feel so hard to do then?'

'It was commendable, still.' Another thought engaged.

Maeve flapped her limb, bringing Ife's attention back to her. "It's just a handshake. I won't bite."

"Rr...ight." Ife shook Maeve hand which looked healthy, gentle but felt gripping from the zing that went through her vein at the contact. Or maybe it was just her limb that was malnourished and frail.

That's what going for days without food does to one.

Maeve rolled eyes dramatically, but playfully, and flopped back to her side of the room. She rambled on, to no one but herself.

Ife, for the life of her, could not dare speak out loud like that, even when alone. What if the voices took over? Gain control over her senses and start spewing God knows what? She wouldn't risk giving such expression and validity to them.

Her heart rate pumped less, and less, trailing back to it's normal beat after the short conversation with... Meave.

It was unbelievable. She was still in one piece, yet. It took a lot out of her, yes, but it wasn't like she'd expected. When was the last time she'd had contact with a human?

No. It wasn't deathly.

And she loved it.

A desire from that acknowledgment trickled into her heart, dripping into a longing for some connection with humans. She badly wanted it. She did. Yes, it might take a very long while - that she was aware of - to get to a stage where she could communicate freely, articulate her emotions, not bundling feelings, basking in the gift of existence.

She directed her gaze to Maeve, the glob of sunshine. Perhaps, she could be the one thing to lighten her webbed tunnel of life and mind. Meave rocked gently, her feet dangling from the knee down at the edge of the bed, wrapped in her own mental bubble. All blissful.

Ife ruminated on the events of the day, the niggling reminder of not getting too comfortable behind her consciousness. The run-in had escalated her tottering feelings that night, and it had gave way to an apology. That meant value, importance, and a remembrance of her. She'd flashed in Meave's thought and that was a great thing to her. She wanted to be made a friend.

Her cynical part reared its head then.

Nothing lasts forever, nothing has.

It's a futile thing to think of. So laughable. Her? Being friends with someone? That can never happened. Never. She'd be the girl destined to be lonely for rest of her breathing days. The one speck of an insignificant nebula in an uncaring and unfair universe. . .

THE CLOUDS WERE a fluffy balls of orange and red against the grey-black sky in the horizon, the remnants of a sunrising before the day set in. Adunade viewed this transitioning through the windscreen of her Mum's battered and jerky Ijapa car, revelling in the birthing of a fresh day. Sunrises were one of her favorite and most sanctified part of any day. Will always be.

From another's eyes, the breaking dawn might look gloom—with dark overcasts, the sun's glow a low-burning amber—preempting bad events for the next twenty-four hours, but Ade saw it on the flip side: it signified a breaking away from the night, old and didn't dampen the trail of thrill in her heart.

She was going to PeHSA. She was going to be a scholar. A Dance student. Not even a thunderstorm or a tsunami could altered her hopes and feels that day. An optimist, believer in goodness to the core she was.

She turned her head sideways and looked out the window to the other vehicles and commuters on the road of Lagos. Or Lasgidi, like she'd always heard it being called. Back at the her village, Adoye, in Ekiti. She couldn't believe she was going to be free from the dramas back there after all.

Her little sister, Ayoola, five-year-old's chatters filled the cramped car as Kayode Fashola's Ranti Omo Eni ti Iwo N Se played from a portable DVD Player on the dashboard. Ade's mind was feet deep in the happenings outside of the car than in the conversation she occasionally mumbled to - that her mom was trying to make.

The sun was changing to a tawny color and the dark clouds were becoming light. There. Just as Ade had predicted. And this, this little inevitable event of nature was what some people would have been fretting over. She doesn't get why people give in to loosing their peace of mind. Stay positive [I]until[/i] the worst happened. Keyword: happened.

Dirt and particles filled air pumped out from exhaust pipes beneath cars. They billowed to the sky. Traffic was building with intermittent dash of cars on the free road. They've been traveling for an hour and thirty minutes. Everywhere stuffy, stiffling with heat and choking.

Hustlings was going on everywhere. Young, driven, energetic men speeding after cars, selling their wares and trying to keep up with drivers. A curse rang out every now and then, the atmosphere thick with edginess. Even the elements of the world around, animals and inanimate, formless specks were fused in the surrounding.

A far cry from the dull, brown life of the village she was used to. Unlike the people Ade was observing and analyzing, whom the buzzes of the city going on doesn't budge, she thought, she found it exhilarating. It was all so new and fresh and... something undiluted. She couldn't place her fingers on what.

She wasn't a JJC though. In the real meaning of the word, and neither was she local. She used to keep up to date with the events of the world through newspapers she got from the church's keeper back at home. But now, all those things are right before her. She thirst to also be one in the papers someday. One people admire, and fear so much. A change in the world.

The car gradually glided through a low raise that continued to the third mainland bridge, over the seawater.

Ade pressed her face to the car's window as she viewed the vast water. So wide. Spreading, full of depth, unlimiting. A mental image of freedom and soaring immediately flashed before her light brown eyes. That was what she perceived from seeing the stretching body of rippling water, having tiny boats on it. How freeing. Is it weird that the sea appeared inviting to her? Like, it made her feel float - if she could just be on it. Or in it. She saw the endlessness as refreshing rather stuck and death, as most people considered.

"I see you are so excited, and can't even wait to come down."

"Yess," Ade gushed, her Yoruba accent very laced in her speech. Damn trying to rid it and sound like a white, she mentally noted. She was proud of and will show off every single thing about her tribe, heritage.

They dragged on like that, like a tortoise, on and on till finally got to Lekki. Ayoola made some rude comment about their Mom's dirty car in such a posh neighbourhood. Her Mom gave her the signature silencing face of most Nigerian mothers.

They parked just out of the marked boundary of where Pearly Heights land started from. It was a circus in whole field, expanse. Ade stepped down, on sandaled feet and a warm wind wrapped around her at once, lifting the hem of her white lace dress up. She held the knee-length gown in place with a hand, creamy in complexion, and pulled her yellow jacket closer with the other, trying to still hoist her strap purse up amidst.

Bright colors were her to die for.

She stepped to the side, Ayoola reaching up to her waist beside her as they waited for their Mom to come down.

There were tall buildings everywhere, four of which were very distinctive, towering up to sixteen floors. Ade noticed, the schoool's design was a blend between urban and nature as so many trees - willows, maples, oaks, palms, pines - were planted about.

"Look at. . ." Ayoola pointed, in awe, at a dirty blond-haired white boy.

"So?" Ade retorted, rolled her eyes.

Ayoola's action had drew his attention, and he looked their way, gave Ayoola a minimal smile, acknowledged Ade with his eyes. She averted her gaze with subtlety, kept her face devoid of a reaction.

It might mean nothing, and she's being to unfriendly but no, she was still going to keep her protective shell in place. Not that she couldn't and wouldn't make friends with guys. She isn't going to be giving off any signs.

She was starting to put together her code of conducts for her stay at PeHSA.

* * *

The black door opened inward.

"Hi!" Ade smiled at the short girl with a complexion between light and dark, having few pimples on an oval face and colorless eyes framed by red glasses.

"H...i..." Bland-faced, dull-looking Ifelayo stared at the portrait of an angel before her— she even had a weave-on hair the color of one—not speaking.

"Um- is this room 396?" Ife nodded. Ade continued. "I was assigned here. I am newly enrolled."

Ife nod again, still speechless and shifted to the side to allow room for the girl, some older woman and a younger girl to come in.

"Hey, hello there." Maeve rose up from her bed and dashed toward the guests as soon as she spotted them. Her spirit, charisma was so imprinted on these ones, the moment they leave the place. "You're a new student?"

"Yes," Ade answered, already feeling at home with Meave's reception.

"Welcome! And welcome ma. . ." Maeve proceeded to greet Ade's mom, her sister, always drawing them out of their tired state, and acquainting herself with them, launching into small talk.

"You're all girls in this room, right?"

"Oh yes, ma'am," Maeve said, chuckled cheerily.

"Good," Mrs Omowunmi, Ade's Mom commented as she strolled around the room, inspecting whatever with her special and rare-to-find kind of Mother's eyes.

Maeve's irises filled with some unidentified emotion as she watched the young woman, her heart feeling nostalgic and yearning for a zip second for. . . what she doesn't have.

Is this your book? Do you have a print or e-copy for sale? I want to buy one.

Yes I do! Please let me know where to buy when you are done.

Magnoliaa:



Yes, it is, but it's still very rough draft I'm working on.

No where close to finishing or perfection at alll.

Do you like it?

* * *(cont'd)* * *

"Mom, it's okay. Everything's fine. We are all good. We're ad-grown and can take care of ourselves," Ade said to her Mom.

Mrs Omowunmi chuckled in return, clucked her tongue and shook her head. She brushed her daughter's comment aside and breezed around the airy room bent on her inspection.

Maeve and Ade indistinctly got familiarized, subconsciously and physically drawing to each other. Like the pull of magnets' like ends. Ife was out of the 'unregistered' cult, and Ade's little sister began her own tour of the room - detaching from her big sister, in tentative steps, her neck spinning round and around, left, right, raised high in awe, at delicate objects in the room. Love seats and a sofa, chest of drawers.

The young girl had an impressionable mind, her path in life seeming to be tailored after Ade's, but not exactly in the dancing world. Ayoola was out of touch with her directions and didn't regain senses 'till she climbed over a mound, followed by a deep hiss and she was sent tumbling backwards, almost falling on her butt.

"Sorrr–" she cried in realization of stepping onto someone's foot in a shaky voice and snapped her head up. Her look was met with the depthfully, soulless - red-rimmed - eyes of Ife, piercing to her soul. She recoiled like a snail to its shell, sticking to her Mom's leg once again.

Hideous you.

How great.

Ifelayo's mental chords strung.

Many minutes later, after the welcomes and being acclimated to Ade's new living quarters, her friends—including the oddly independent one, and much series of pep talks, counsels of "remembering the home you came from" and such, Mrs Omowunmi left. Bearing heavy hearts. And superficial energies of two growing teenagers. Nevermind Ife's, as she's eternally never having - bereft externally and internally.

The girls stood aimless, rigid for a while. Mind going through a mechanical blockage, and restarting to pushing out fresh energies and desires.

Adunade turned to Maeve, fist jacked in a jacket's pocket. "We have classes? I guess?"

"Yeah," Meave replied her, her enthusiasm flickering. She gestured her fleshy arms to the back of the room where she'd constructed a makeshift vanity. Make-up tools and products, fragrance boxes littered her space. "I was just getting ready."

"Oh. . .cool." Ade blinked, shocked a bit and back to being composed at the flashy diva persona. She wondered if Maeve was on scholarship. She tucked the train of thought away, and said, "Let me get my books." She spotted her bed in an instant, the one next to Maeve's. And it was totally not because of her new roomie was she choosing it. The bed had a white pillow with a red heart embroidery. The sheets were red, too, and dazzled with minuscule greenery designs. A love and emotions person she was, who will choose brightness over grey any day. She adored things giving lively vibes off. Settling in will be for the evening, she thought, as she'd enrolled late, having just enough time to prepare her papers and belongings, cut of pre-existing ties, and burn things that needed to. Yes, for all her sensitivity and affinity for glowing ambience, she shied away from relationship issues and acknowledging them was rather difficult. But, no one knew that. Not that anyone needed to, since they all perceived her to be logical, capable, and motivating which'll make a great other half, sometimes. It's all good that way, and she liked it.

Ife had slipped out before the latter duo, circumventing Rosenberg's plan to get them trio to wearing matching outfits. Because why not? Mae lived for groups and thrived in gatherings, and anything to dominate whatever social circle she found herself in was approved. She cautioned her wildness occasionally to be overt not too much, lest her cover burst.

She and Adunade were side by side already in the constricted hallways of Pearly Heights students' dorms. They all clashed and bumped into other enrollees, from different walks of life, swarming like locusts, and dripping out from thousand doors consecutively in the sixteen-storey building.

It was a small continent.

The biggest arts school in Lagos State, and among the top five in Africa.

The music students, especially, unabashedly but unintentionally hit their instruments on faces, causing paint brushes, spiral bound notepads and gadgets to tumble down, somersaulting on banisters at each floor. The acting students experienced no easier, too, hefting and dragging along suitcases of costume.

But they were all very happy. Each Pearl Heighter specialized in a talent department. Their veins ticked and chests rumbled, multiplied by the city feels. It's exhaust, fuel, stress, traffic. Shining lights and bustles. It was the heartbeat of any metropolitan and cosmopolite town. The adrenaline, ever supplied, do not wear them out but did the opposite instead. It was an addiction, that intensified negative effects the more- commuting between sky-rising blocks with sixty-plus panes arranged steeply and in steps, reflecting the panorama, sun and imposing structures across the highway.

DEAN ALIYA YUSOUFF gazed upon the art schoolers. Brimming the expansive hall built in an amphitheatre style.

A strand of light fell on her figure, sculpted with power and force, and clothed in red botton-down and suit. She was the cynosure - deep in the midst of the closed room and packed seats flaring upwards on stairs - and handled the attention well.

Sharp professionalism in display, and addressing her guests: instructors, having Ms.Cs and Ph.Ds to their renowned names; celebrities, all-time award winners; teachers, interns and corpers alike.

She'd personally screened the twenty-eighteen and twenty-nineteen set, making their applications undergo rigorous testings, verifications, subjections. And hair-splitting interviews—both in reality and in its virtual kind—allowing only the best of the best entry. Perhaps, the greatest since the inception of the school, the next-rateds.

Her life ambition from pre-teen years had always been to train great entertainers and mould them, and here it was still about her DNA, nudging her, and taking her to the position of Dean of the biggest arts academy in the Nigeria. To co-ordinate and supervise and guide new, spurting outputs of fresh talents.

She was an helper, being there for others embedded in her blood, and she was peacefully comfortable with the back scenes as others go on to take the limelights. Her only stardom were within Pearly Heights and on occasions like these, her face a scarce image that some dormers never encounter for years. She was all for churning Oscar, Emmy, Grammy, Headies, Academy baggers. And others of their likes.

She was determined this year, especially, to produce an international act from Pearly Heights.

Her voice was like a quiet sea, resting underneath, in its natural nature, and uninhibited by sentiments.

She congratulated the students, welcomed them, admonished them, for hours on end in a strong tone that instilled fire in their jagged hearts. She, being in her element self and zone as she led, innovatively and versed in the act of persuasion and motivation, producing productivity and excellence in the recipients of whatever her training was.

After her, millionaire stars and starlets mounted the podium, a little of them being PeHSA ex-students, one after the other and shared moving stories on life, its issues. And setbacks they had to face, while not resident in Lagos only, but climbing up the ladder to perforate the international stage. Becoming seasoned actors in Hollywood, Bollywood; distinct musicians in Africa, Asia, Europe.

They spoke to the students' core and resonated with their deepest desires, all void like the famous people formerly. Coming from rich, average, and poor families. Hawking soft drinks, confections, and thrift shop materials in severe weathers and polluted air. Engaging in odd, dry cleaning, bricklaying jobs that paid per day.

Michall, idol dancer, and choreographies in collaboration with superstars BTS, Beyonce, Sia, Ariana Grande and more was present, alongside Tiwa Savage and Simi.

The gathering ended on a faithful and positive vibes note.

* * *

The classes began shortly after.

And everyone ploughed their ways through bodies and mistness and thickness, dodging shrubs and pointy grasses. Navigating around deciduous trees - oaks, willows and beeches.

The air buzzed and sizzled, as if the heavenly rays were searing it, and boots clogged on cements, over the din of ramblings and chatters amidst chock-full masonries.

Adunade, Ifelayo and Maeve had lost each other in the commotion, each going by different routes and paces. To their eight-storied Dance department.
Ife meandered, on the walkway for commuters and inhaled dizzying scents of blooming carnations, hollies and begonias. She admired them at stops, and grant access the beauty of colors, permeating her pores and glazing her soul. They never changed anything. About her inner state, just supplied fleeting precious soothe, to bask in, from their petals.


Maeve stepped through an electronic doorway that dinged and turned green at her entrance. Her identification card insetted with tiny wiring and chip swing to and fro from her neck as she catwalked.

It was a teeming class, hardly possible to create an impression, she thought, but who knew? Anything was news and everything went viral, however inconsequential - that she very much was aware of as she followed social media platforms. She came to a halt and scanned the class. Dazzling in white paint and looming, futuristic-like. It consisted of ultramodern practicing facilities and coruscant metal surfaces. At the head of the kingly set up of a room was a stage with many projectors. Beams, chairs, swings, landings, air-filled seat balls, raises and other body parts supports lay scattered, glinting intermittently.

A pillar – if it could be called that – swirling in a gravity-defying design from the high clinker-built ceiling stopped mid-air, then continued after a wide gap, to the ground. Wrought iron chairs with an attached desk interspersed the hollow made by the classroom walls built at irregular angles.

But the seats were largely empty, as their occupants stared, bewitched and with necks bent backwards, being tricked by the ceiling shimmering like a mirage water.

Maeve was awed, too, but because she was putting in more effort to appear surprised like the rest of her classmates, in order not to seem out of place. From a different universe. Because, she's seen thousands of it before, such ceilings, and even more magnificent ones. The perks that came with venturing out with Daddy on business trips, to destinations.

She appreciated the architecture, and mentally commended the builder, as she contemplated.

It was her first time alone.

All by herself.

Away.

From home.

Her perspective altering and seeing things in a new luminescence.

Change tides gradually blowing her path.

It was frondescence.

Her kitten heels propelled her, past rows of desks to the bowels of the arc theatre. A chill zinged through her spine, causing her to freeze on spot for a nanosecond. Her brain recollected the stationed air conditioners blasting icy breezes when she walked in, but had been immuned to due to the breathtaking setting. She was broken from the spell now, and clasped her elbows, her forearms folded atop each other lightly, fingers pulling on the hem of her coat. It was a short-sleeved, woolly, baby blue, cashmere one.

Clad in pantyhose and hot pink shorts was not posing to help either.

* * *(cont'd)* * *



" . . . 29, 40, 160. Next group: 18, 12, 39, 68. Next . . . ."

Ade complied with the order and stealthy stood, from seat twenty-nine at the same time as others did, in rows. Merged; stood up in rows; stumped and shuffled; merged. On and on like that they kept on in a calm chaos, meeting other scholars and becoming acquainted one with the other as they were grouped.

Ade traipsed majestically, shoulders held high and moved to a cleared space by a large bay window. She passed the wait for her teammates looking out to a garden barricaded with columns. Writhing movements just behind a particular pillar caught her attention. She adjusted her position to get a better view. And she saw. The white boy from earlier making out with a girl. Yuck—

"We are together!"

Ade jumped and caught herself. "Maeve..." she breathed.

"Sorrrry. I'm just so happy we got paired together. Like wow — so, you're into contemporary dance, too?"

''Yeah." Ade nodded, smiled.

"Huh. Cool." Maeve pivoted, craning her neck in every direction. "I wonder who our fourth partner is. And the first."

"Yeah. The first. The instructor said it's the seat number 16. But she's not present. So we should just go ahead and form our group. Pick a name, leader..."

"Ohh, a name! I have tons of it. Can't wait to pick one. Cassiopeia? How's that? Is it cool? You know, I thought it's stellar ... so, like likening our group to the stars. Shooting talents. Or Thundrettes. Or. . ." Ife's approach to their spot slowed her blabbering, but then, it billowed again, when the redhead reached them. "Oh. My. God. You're with us, too?! Wow. What luck! Roommates and dancemates? Like, how crazier can fate get?" Maeve gripped onto Ife's arm and the fragile girl freaked, her heart kickstarting in an overt manner.

Ife righted her reaction too late, her panic blatantly displayed to her new friends at Maeve's unexpectedly forward physical contact. Her arm was dropped.

Maeve sheepishly muttered an apology, albeit a tad bit confused.

"We're done for today now, I guess? It's just for sorting us. I say we should head home, maybe?" Ade suggested.

"Yep, sure. Definitely." Maeve agreed, oblivious to Adunade's dominance naturally slipping to be exerted in gatherings. She snapped and popped syllables all through her speech as she said, "Let's walk together," more to Ife before Ifelayo could glide off. Without them.

The south-westerner nodded, mute.

"So, as I was saying," Mae began, walking amidst the two: white-haired and raven-looking, out the class. "I have thought of so many ideas for this before coming. We are gonna need a costume. You know, something to brand us, set us apart. And a vlog! Where we can post our videos, personal experiences, gain followers and all that. What do you think?" She bobbed. "We'll need all the support we can get. To beat the other teams and come out first. I sight-counted about forty groups in there..."

Adunade chuckled. "It's all good. Great plans." She swung her higher education notes against the gray denim jeans cladding her thighs, enjoying the lull of the minty and fruity, partly-cluttered breeze and Rosen's company.

"And you? Ife? Chirp something."

Ife stalled in words and steps, flinging mental luggage away to think up a response. She spoke in a small tone, "Um - - awesome. I. I like some matching sneakers. And. Something. Flowery. For the outfit."

"Hmmmm, we could consider that. Definitely use those ideas," said cherry-on-a-sundae Mae.





          They waltzed into the dorm, the door ajar and on the third floor, non-plussed at what might have intruded their room. Maeve ever taking plunges, surprisingly and not-so surprisingly, choked on her breath to the hearing of her roommates.

She grasped her fingers to her chest, squeezing her flannel shirt. "Oh my God." Gulped. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Who's there?" Ade came in afterwards. And then Ife.

Both girls looked to the athletically tall newcomer, dressed in a night's thief attire, and on a purple-dyed afro hair, with plump lips.

The girl stood, unshaking. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to? I was um directed here by a security guard. This is my room."

"Oh." Adunade relaxed. "You're welcome. Sorry about the abrupt entry, too. We're staying here also."

The new girl nodded in understanding and following an afterthought, offered, "I'm Pemisire."

Maeve cut into Pemi's introduction and snatched the girl's outstretched arm towards Ade. "Hi, Pemi. Maeve. Nice to meet you. And cool name."

Pemi grinned. "Nice to meet you, too."

"Adunade. Omowunmi."

"I-fe-layo Bakker."

"Bakker? Urh... didn't know that." Maeve sauntered to her bed and collapsed onto it. It bounced her. "Woah, so, we're complete now–Hey, what seat number were you supposed to take? In the main hall this morning."

"Sixteen?" Pemi said.

Mae and Ade's eyeballs expanded. Ife crossed to her space, and sat down. Observing with pulsing eyes.

"Okay! This is God working right here. WE. ARE. TOGETHER. IN. THE. SAME. GROUP." The blue-haired gyrated, jubilating and jumping here and there, doing crazy but mad dance, moves to the delight of the girls. "Ade is going to be our leader," she declared at last, slouching her steps. "I want that. Ife our writer. Pemi, costu—"

"Oh, no. Why me?" Ade questioned with a shake of her head.

"C'mon. Why not? We need a leader. And it really isn't that much of a big deal. You're just going to represent and answer and all that. You're still the same as us! I think it suits you better, I don't know?" Giggles. "You appear intelligent," Maeve disclosed. "And you just seem very... very something of yourself." She felt pleased, like she had given a great oration and let the feeling showed forth in her countenance.

Pemi's lips pulled to each side of them, pressed together in force; she stole glances at Ife, tried to get her mind frame into the scope of the younger girls around her. She wasn't that old. Sixteen. But her thinking and perception were far advanced than her roommates' due to playing 'big sister' to her own big sister at twenty years old. Maeve's mention of God earlier grinded on her nerves also, swollen her mood for personal reasons. She tried to placate her emotions and will's machine, dragged it like a stubborn mule least it go charging against her responsibilities, jobs, and ills at home and began to ruminate and introspect on them. In a futile attempt at solving problems she had no control over.

"Alllright, then, let's celebrate our first day..." Mae was saying.

"Yes. It wouldn't be bad," Pemi chipped in.

Rosen threw her full hair to the side, as if to say 'I told you.' Having a person agree with her suggestions was always mostly the effective ingredient she needed to drive them in and make anyone buy.

Ade asked, "But how are we going to do that? In school?"

"They'll allow us out." -Maeve.

"And, there's this party closed to a place I know." Where I work. "I heard our students, Pearliers, will be using there. It's open for anyone to attend. But no adult stuff though. Just fruit drinks......."

"That's sweet and fixed. We should go."

"No problem." Ade caved in finally as Ife was opening up to say a thing.

"Uh, what, Ife? What do you wanna do? Think you'll be slipping outta this with me? Hell to the nah way."

Skinny, dark-skinned Bakker, clothed in nerd's outfit shut up, knowing there's no winning with Maevy. And no clue had she if that was a good or bad thing.

DECIBELS AND COILS of rhythm strewn from speakers to the restaurant's walls.

Quaked it.

Vibrated them to their foundation.

Strobe lights bounced and latched onto surfaces, faces and platewares. And bodies twisted in ecstasy to pop tunes. The raucous teenagers jumped till the tip of their hairs could touch the ceiling and low swinging bulbs. They were high, Hot, and meshed together; juices slushing in glass cups.

Purple-red, orange-green, blue and deep colours blended, creating a shadowy but glaring ambience in the party hall — converted from the dining area of Truse Cakes and Cafe. Its occupants were the newly-enrolled students of Pearly Heights School of Arts. They'd be granted permission to celebrate, but under supervision.

The song playing, by the star Beyoncé, Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It) screeched to a halt and a band of young, fresh-looking and growing boys mounted a stage. It was makeshift, too.

Pemi strutted in with her friends, Adunade and Maeve stroking like a feather to the slow-rising music.

It wasn't a foreign scene nor concept to Pemisire. She could not decided for the smallish black girl, Ife, beside her though as she was rigid. With a straightly contorted face making it hard to guess whether she was a novice or not to teens' parties.

But not her, Pemi. Parties were commonplace as water. From living with an aunt who sold liquors and cigarettes in the ghetto; to storming bashes her big sister—Pamilerin—frequently crashed, made troubles at and dragging her away; to working shifts on various jobs - mostly catering.

Questionable moguls and shady guests, men weren't unusual to come across too, and she had had to, on many occasions, give statement at police stations or be a witness in courts.

Thankfully, none of that has proven to be any danger.

They reached the counter, and Rosen was off already arranging for their orders. After asking what each wanted. She was a congenial server, Pemisire thought, and wasn't so bad being that one person who'd willingly give themself up.

They were served, and walked back to a seating portion of the room, bearing trays. A florescent light beamed on the table they choose to sit at.

Ife was ogling her food with an alien expression, like it was an abominable meal, mindly contemplating how she was to get rid of the ofada rice. Ade opted for pizza, a vegetarian food.

Chairs' feet scrapped at the floor and they slid into their seats, began eating. Their eyes roved their surroundings all the while, loosening up. Maeve wolfed her toasts; Ade nibbled. Ifelayo was picking at hers with a fork, and Pemi chewed a fair size of her swallow in five spoons, then washed it down with a fizzy pineapple drink. She pushed the plate away.

A game of spin the bottle was starting to steal the attention of the partygoers. Truth or Dare went on in a corner, although less grabby and a soloist plucked his guitar in a somnambulent manner, swaying his head. There was something for everyone to do. Others captured the moment.

''Yess. I'm gonna take trophy, I betcha'.''

''Yeah, hoe. Go!''

''I'm serious. That AAACA crown, belongs to me. I mean - who would doubt my prowess and talent? Who can stand me?''

''Who born the pesin?''

Abigail Yolanda Morelli jeered on, hooting amidst her friends as her voice reverberated in the medium-sized cafe. They were all dressed outrageously. Noticeably flamboyant and drinking archetypal of boys.

''I'm the best! There's nobody, no fuckīng body else. I'm gonna be . . . the greatest dancer in the school. Even in a face off, I always come out top, don't I?'' She cackled.

Her sidekick---a blonde girl, ever inciting her---hollered again.

''I'm over here wondering if you could put your money where your mouth is. That's if you have any, of course. Your style of dressing seem to be ... a bit over-compensating.''

''The fůck is the dog that just spoke?'' A girl on Mohawk said.

''Not a dog. Someone did. I'm right here,'' Maeve called out, gestured to their table, and branded a smile.

Heads turned in her direction.

''Who's the bịtch?'' Ainslie, the blonde, spat.

''No one you know. You don't have to. I'm not the one yapping off about not being a nonentity in the first place.''

''Yo mad or something? Who yo callin' a nonentity? Abbie?'' Another girl dropped, making of show of assessing Abigail - their leader with yellow braids.

''Fưck me. Just take a look at the thing dissing Abbie. She be dancing and slaying since before your father was born,'' Mohawk said.

The crowd cheered, blown in ecstasy.

''Huh. No wonder. If she was born before my Dad, I see why she looks all haggard and wrinkly.''

And a round of 'ohhhhhs' followed. The students were quitting their games and forming an audience.

The veins in Abigail's body reddened. Her eyes become metallic slits, and she tumbled emotionally. She clutched the edge of the plastic table.

The crowd began to chant, calling for a dance. The air was swollen with trepidations and tremors, a disorienting high spirit.

''I wonder, too, if you got any shit. Talking so much for so little substance. Let's settle it then. I challenge you.'' Abigail replied in a dangerous low.

Mae bit the bait. She sprung to her feet, burrowing her orbs into mohawk's, and swaggered to a cleared space made by the collected Pearliers. The DJ immediately released two solid beats, and then a jerking intro of a viral pop tune: Nae Nae (Watch Me) by Silento.

Mae rocked on the balls of her feet, she tilted to her tiptoes and stretched on them. She proceeded calmly, in charge, bobbing from a foot to the next. She whirled unexpectedly, as if indwelled by an otherworldly being and cracked her form with the turn. She was in the mood. She thrashed and threw her limbs to match the spurting beats----up, down, right angle, eighty-degree turn, left, forwards and backwards. She ate up the ring space, not concealing her creativity but made sure not to touch the onlookers. She ended with some rolling kind of dance style.

Mohawk girl took over. And she was as wild and uninhibited. She used her time by inculcating some street moves. They were okay, but paled in comparison to Maeve's.

It was another set and the students went gaga as Olamide's Pawon came on. Adunade was paired with Ainslie.

Adun's specialty was in the waist. Anything that has to do with it, including twerking. And she was a killer. When she danced, only her soul existed. Her physical limits long dissipated in a mental storm. Unseen in that night. Pumping. She was neither a fantastic dancer nor a great one; she was a fantastically great dancer.

She was the only one of the girls attending the school on a scholarship based on talent alone. There was no doubt, she won her opponent hands down.

Ife was in another spirit entirely. Given who she was, it would be expected that her performance would hinge on the force of her mental illnesses, making her performance beyond what is normally average. But the reverse was the case. She was superficially at peace, in other words, a glimpse into her human person. Her senses weren't foggy, and the display of her talent was natural. She had an edge in slithering movements. Snake-like. Coil-like, string-y. And she did them well laying flat on the floor.

Pemi dominated in the air. Flips and somersaults, stunts and swings from an object to the other. She repressed her reins of her flexibility for the night though. It was a constricted stage. But the bars rooted all around the cafe, chairs and tables were subjected to her manoeuvres. She'd spring under one and emerge on the other side, flip sideways as her body parts remained upright and then latch onto a pole, swirl down sensually.

The audience were now biased; the four girls owned the dance floor; stole the party and its purpose. The alternates from Mae to Adun to Layo to Sire for the second round was bantam, their antagonists long forgotten and shoved to the backgrounds. The quadruple were high up, bathed in their glory, win and newfound popularity.

Ife's heart was pummeling, but in a good way. Maeve howled, stomped from one table top to another, gingering the students.

They were new. And although yet to be trained, demonstrated a surreal potential for greatness. To storm the dance world.

A steady green halo was spotlighted on them. They were hemmed in, their fans pushing to get a feel of them. Interspersed in the frenzy were another enraged but powerless group of four girls. Their venom for the stars like the unseen secrets of the deep. And they were adversarial. Mohawk girl, especially. Her chest smouldered, that it caused sparks in her brain. Sparks that permeated the darkness in the restaurant, enveloping, a resolve forming in her mind.

The young stars were oblivious to the hate they'd catalyzed.

''WHAT ARE YOU so engrossed in?'' Ade asked.

Maeve started and blinked. She came to as her fluttered heart relaxed, her perception settling. She scanned the cafeteria before focusing on the light-skinned girl across from her.

''Nothing. Uhm -- I'm just . . . keeping up-to-date with the news.''

''Hmm. You were soo into it I'd think it was something more. Like something. . . you care deeply about.''

Mae's signature and disarming expression was in place. She spoke with pithy meaning. ''It's social news. I love celebrities and their crazy lifestyles. It's fascinating!'' . . .It was partly a reason. . . ''. . .an obsession,'' she added.

''If you say so.''

''Yep.''

They sat at a table for two, next to the windows and overlooking the sidewalk, lawn and car park metres away. The school was pulsing with life at just some minutes past seven in the morning. Cameras clicked constantly, and the scribblings on paper scraps insistent. Maeve drank in the scenes, blooming. Throng of academia scholars cut into her vision, making the swaying trees disappearing and appearing. She gave up and turned her head back in. It wasn't as noisy in the cafeteria, but the place was packed with breakfasters. Funnily, the were on their electronic gadgets and smartphones.

It gave a vibe to her.

Something from a futurist world. Zero conversations and non-existent physical connection. A silent din, repressed chaos and illusion of calmness. Clashing contradiction of bustle and serenity.

The French doors to the cafe jammed every second and people sauntered from one section and counter to the next. As an extrovert, she loved it. No one is white and black, and hundred percent of a thing, so she appreciated a solemn setting now and then. She doesn't need to always be in an hyperactive environment.

This. Was life. Right here in Pearly Heights. Streaks of memories from home wafted to her conscious. The cage. The thought involuntarily brought a shiver to her spine.

Were they finding----

''So, what's in the news?''

Mae's head shot up. She lifted a brow at Ade, who has her head cocked, trying to understand her question. Her thoughts were a jumble. ''News? Oh. Uhhhh...'' She cleared her throat. ''Scandals. Secrets, the usual. There's this school: CrystalFlecks? - ''

''I've of that.''

''Yah. It's popular. It's an elite school, at Ota. Around the ranks of RGH-''

''RGH?''

''Ruthanne Georgeson High.''

''Hm, you sure do know these things and keep up-to-date with them.''

Maeve laughed and shrugged a shoulder.

''. . . sounding all foreign and exotic. . .''

''Uh huh. Ruthanne is a BIG school. That's in Ikoyi. It's Irish-owned. And its head boy, the owner's son- Ren- is ...... okay, okay, don't let me go into that.''

''What's with Ren?''

''He's a sweetheart. The heartthrob of girls. Like, the most popular teen in Lagos and Nigeria. He and his sister, Renee.''

Ade plastered her fingers on her chin. ''Hm.  They sound interesting.''

''They are. Untouchables. Anyway, that aside. I was telling you about Crystal Flecks. Soo, welll, the owner, as in, the Proprietor was haaving. A. Se-x-ual relationship. With two of his students.''

Adun's eyes popped out of their sockets as she held a palm to her opened mouth.

Maeve chuckled softly.

''Wow, bizarre,'' Adunade whispered.

''And Ronda Minaj was caught on tape. Physically fighting with another rapper, Tashi B. Crazy stuff. El oh el.''

Ade sighed. ''These people and drama.''

Maeve did her shoulder thing again, and scooped an ice-cream. ''You gotta do what you gotta do. It's show biz.'' She flicked a finger up. ''Some, I think, fake it. Publicity stuff. And I'm sooo interested in them.''

''Why? They are mundane to me. Juicy, I know, but still.''

''I'm gonna be popular!''

Adun just stared at her like she'd grown a moustache.

''Whaat? Don't you?''

Ade shook her head. Then paused. ''Maybe I do. But I don't want this drama stuff. I love the cool, off the scene kind. My dance is the only thing I wanna be popular for, not my life and its turbulence.''

''Oh, well. That's okay, too. We're gonna get there! Just watch...''

Ade agreed. As a believer herself but of a different type to Mae's. Rosen is shooting for the farthest stars with her starting line being the sky. Ade was more of a bitty, milestone person. Let's conquer in our class, sect, school, nation first before we go galactic.

''What other dance genres do you like?'' Maeve asked.

Ade played with the straw in the plastic cup she gripped, thinking. ''Traditional, I'll say,'' She finally answered.

''Traditional? What's ... ''

''The indigenous kind. You know? I'm from the village. I grew up seeing these local things around me. With festivals holding at the monarchs' place. Colourful stuff here and there. Dyes, adires, kampalas. I was the leader of a dance group. We travel from town to town.''

''Wow. Maaad fun that must be. I think it's explosive.''

Ade gave Maeve a sceptic once-over.

''I'm serious here! You know,'' Mae said, gesticulating. ''I've always loved placed, destinations. The city is kind of constricting. I mean, after a while. So, anything different from the usual is bae. I want to experience a loot. We'll definitely still go on a trip to your hometown.''

Adunade grinned. ''I hear. What about you?''

''Just a boring girl with a boring life from the mainland.''

''You said you love places ... ''

'' ...I've never been to.''

''Ohh.''

''Hello, girls. Mind if I share a seat with you beauties?''

''You did already,'' Ade retorted, to the white boy whose face is becoming familiar.

''Oh, sure. You're free to,'' Sweet Mae said. ''Hi, handsome.'' She shook hands with him. He faced Adun to greet her, too, but withdrew his handshake back, clamping his fingers. Maeve, amused, watch the encounter. Lit. She flipped her glossy, blue weave-on behind her ears. ''I'm Maeve. And there's my friend- Adunade.''

''Beautiful names. For beautiful ladies.'' He smiled charmingly. ''Troy.'' And cool, confident streaks rained.

Ade glared daggers at Mae who was oblivious and swallowed by a chortle, at the guy's accent and manner of pronouncing the local words.

''It means the 'honey of crown','' Mae went on. Deliberate. And predictably, the guy reacted with adjectives expletives. Gushing and commending every information Maeve released. They bantered for a minute.

''So, well, I've got to refill'- Rosen stood- ''my''- she picked a mug and two books up -''coffee!'' she announced. ''I'll use the toilet after. I have a meeting with a tutor, and practices----so, it'll be later until we see.'' She swiped her backpack and winked at Ade, who was more than irate now, and made a dash for the counter.

post=87676890:
Shzed.

...

Magnoliaa:
✰ synopsis

helo mangolo. I have moiney and I use to be a pilot...please can i have yor nomba and can we link up this weeekend so we can discuss romance. did i also mention i drive a range rover juss in case u ask? be nice. can i link u??