₦airaland Forum

CHAPTER NINE
JEFF VERSUS CHEUNG

Li Cheung appeared too immature to be in the university. He was only thirteen and was in his third year. Cheung was gentle, just as Henry had said. Seeing Cheung no one would believe he could belong to a magic cult. His face looked innocent. Indeed Cheung did not like the condition he had found himself. Cheung had not asked to be initiated into cultism. He had only got there by accident.
What led into his initiation was his timid nature. Since becoming a freshman, at a tender age of ten and half, Cheung had begun to experience incessant troubles from Jeff, who had utilized the opportunity that Cheung was too little to fight back to ride roughshod on him. Jeff had asked Cheung to always share his pocket money with him; the bully would always part with the lion share. Cheung’s timidity had made him keep silent, not telling anybody about it.
One day, while Jeff was cruelly dealing with Cheung, Professor Brown witnessed it per chance. Jeff took to his heels as he sighted the man. The man took Cheung to his office to have a rapport with him. He told Cheung to meet him by Six pm the next day, promising to take him to a place where his timidity would be taken from him permanently. Cheung had accepted innocently, not knowing where the man was taking him. Getting to the man’s office, he was asked seven questions, as usual with the magic world where the man had belonged. Cheung could not answer any. In that state, they left for Gyrus. Cheung was extremely scared. He wept sore in Gyrus that day.
Professor Brown never lived to tell Cheung the answers to the seven questions, because he died that day in Gyrus in a fight of position with Professor Kent Robins, who was the ‘Power Guard’ in Gyrus. Cheung, who had remained weeping after the meeting, had to be brought back to earth by Professor Wilson’s touch on the head.
Two years since becoming a magician, Cheung never used his magical power. He never even knew that he had any such thing. Jeff continued to oppress him. Ted saw the poor boy one day when Jeff was beaten him up.
“Ain’t you from China? You must show me the Bruce Lee stuff,” Jeff said to Cheung as he threw his fist at his chest.
Ted was unable to bear it. He approached Jeff and said, “Hey, leave the poor boy alone, bully. Don’t you have little ones at home you can use as a punching bag?”
Jeff was surprised beyond measure. No one had ever challenged him in such manner. He came closer to Ted as if to beat him up, but Ted had backward fast to avoid him.
“You want to fight for him, isn’t it? I’ll handle you both—with my smallest finger.”
“You’re stupid,” Ted said, not regarding the presence of Jeff’s followers. Jeff beckoned on his accessories to take hold of Ted and they did. After punching Ted on the stomach, they shoved them off and they fell. As the bullies were departing, Ted screamed.
“Wait there!” His shout brought them to a halt. Jeff said, “D’you want to fight back?” Unexpectedly, Ted said, “Cheung will fight you back, not me.”
They laughed.
“No! No!” Cheung gave a frightful yell in disagreement.
“You see, he doesn’t want it,” said Jeff, who was ready for the fight. Then Ted said, “Not today. He’ll surely fight you tomorrow, 5pm. Save your power till then—uh.”
“It’s a deal,” said Jeff, walking away.
Ted, who was on his feet already, helped Cheung to get up too. It was the first time they would be coming together, though Ted had seen him in Gyrus aforetime.
“Thanks mister,” said Cheung. “He’d always been treating me that way.”
“Since when,” asked Ted.
“First day at school.”
“What the hell!” Ted screamed. “Ain’t you with power?”
“Power!” Cheung had said in abject ignorance. “I can’t comprehend you.” Ted reduced his tone and said, “You are a magician, isn’t it?” Cheung expressed shock and said, “How d’you know?”
“I’ve seen you in Gyrus many times with this same kind of lugubrious face.”
“You’re right,” admitted Cheung. “But it was against my wish that I became a magician. I want to quit, but it seems no way,” said Cheung, shedding tears.
“Hey, stop that man. You’re a big guy.”
“I’m not!” shouted Cheung. “I’m only thirteen.”
“You’ve got much power Cheung. You should have stopped Jeff long ago—with your power.”
“How? I’ve never used any such power. I don’t know if I’m in possession of such. I’ve got no one to put me through since joining the magic, so how would I know?”
“The person that took you there, why didn’t he put you through?” asked Ted in a surprised state and Cheung said, “He died before returning from Gyrus that day.”
“How?” Ted asked. “In a fight—with the Power Guard,” Cheung replied.
“Who?”
“Professor Brown.”
Ted nodded and smiled having just discovered what the real death of the late Professor Brown was. Ted had earlier thought that some armed robbers, according to the news that was aired on TV, killed the man. Professor Brown’s age was only forty-one when he gave up the ghost. It was just two weeks after Cheung’s initiation that Ted was brought to Gyrus too, by Professor Wilson.
To intimate Cheung with the possibility of achieving things with the magic, Ted revealed the mystery of Julius’ missing teeth. Cheung was intrigued.
“So, boy, you’ll surely fight Jeff tomorrow.”
“No, I can’t,” Cheung said, still timid.
“Don’t panic. Listen to the plan. I’ll inform the Student-Gyrusers I know, Ken, Joyce and Henry. We’ll combine our effort together and you’ll deal with that fool, I can assure you.” Doubting, Cheung said, “How?”
“Magically.”
“Will they co-operate?”
“Just leave that to me—uh,” said Ted and Cheung nodded childishly in the affirmative.
“So—may I know you?” said Cheung giving him a hand.
“Ted—Ted Manuel,” responded Ted. The boy smiled a reply, “Li Cheung my name,” he said.
“As if I don’t know,” Ted had replied amicably.
“Thanks a lot.”
Leaving Cheung, Ted went straight to inform Ken and Joyce about the fight. The two had agreed willingly to give out their energies. Ted had sought after Henry, but he could not find him. Ted was told later that Henry was sick, and he was in the clinic.

The day after, Henry began to walk to the dean’s office to tell him that he had discovered the photographer, or the designer of the posters.
“Come inside,” said the dean and Henry rushed in with great alacrity.
“Henry, you came so early. Hope nothing’s wrong.” Henry went straight to the point.
“I know who pasted those posters—sir, you’ll have to promise me that you’ll not punish the chap.”
“Don’t you worry Henry, It’s Ted. He had just left this place. You guys should have met each other outside there.”
“We didn’t,” Henry whispered in disappointment. The man’s statement had enervated Henry immensely. “Did he tell you he was responsible for it?”
“Of course!’ the dean said.
“So…did you do anything to him? Remember, you said you’ll strangle him.”
“Definitely, I did something for him. I gave him some cash. He had come pleading for mercy, but I surprised him when I threw some dollars on him.”
“But why?” The man smiled and said, “That guy has done me proud. Placing me beside Einstein means I’m better than Einstein—that’s the impression he’d created in the heart of everyone who had seen those posters. If I’d lost the award then it could have been the other way round.”
“Meaning that you won’t remind me of the seventh question anymore,” Henry had deduced sadly.
“Forget it. Don’t talk about that question anymore. And—don’t even ask anyone about it.”
“Alright,” said Henry in a frustrated manner. “So—what’s my reward for the award?”
“It’s an open check Henry. Ask whatever you need,” said the dean. “But not what I cannot do,” he added as an afterthought.
“Sir, I need your influence—get me into the school basket ball team,” said Henry in a very serious manner.
Surprised, the dean said, “Is that the request?”
“Yeah, just that,” Henry replied.
“You’re unpredictable, he said. “Your request is granted.”
Henry was going to have a great conflict with Ted. He blamed himself for not being fast enough to have got to the dean’s office before Ted.
“That Ted’s always a stumbling block. I’ll end this relationship,” Henry soliloquized in the heat of his wrath. His vexation was hinged on the fact that Ted had cost him getting the seventh question.
Henry walked down to the court. He was going to meet Ted, who was busy in the practice of Volleyball. Henry beckoned to Ted as he caught sight of him and Ted left his mates immediately, asking them to excuse him for a minute. After walking to a secluded place, the two began to discuss.
“Ted, you’ve gone mad. Why did you go to the Professor?” Henry said angrily.
“Didn’t you say he was going to strangle me? For fear I had to let him know I was the designer of those posters before he finds it out himself.”
“And why d’you think he’ll kill you for such a minor issue?”
“I just felt that way,” said Ted, “Can’t explain.”
“With your action Ted, you’ve cost me knowing the seventh question and its answer. I’ve never failed this much,” Henry complained.
Ted consoled him. “Calm down Henry, you’re a man. I’m assuring you, gradually you’ll acclimatize in the magic world. No one’s going to sit you down to tell you the heap of rules and regulations in the magic—you get them by experience.”
“By experience?” said Henry, expressing disgust. “What if I inadvertently broke a rule whose penalty is death?”
“That’s the risk you’ve got to bear. Listen, every great men face such risk too. Faraday died by what he invented. Marie Curie was not also exempted from this. She died by over-exposure to radiation,” Ted revealed. “Henry, If you stop taking risk then you stop achieving something in life. Life is a risk.”
“Liar!” Henry uttered immediately. It stunned Ted, who asked Henry why he’d called him a liar.
“Not you,” said Henry genuinely. “I mean life. Didn’t you say ‘life is a risk’ just now?”
“So…”
“Letter ‘l’ for ‘life’; ‘i’ for ‘is’; ‘a’ for ‘a’ and ‘r’ for ‘risk’—liar!” Henry deduced to Ted’s amazement.
“Have you had that before?”
“Not at all. Got it just now—as you speak.”
“You’re a genius,” Ted said as if he was just knowing it.

Searching everywhere for Ted, he was not found. Henry had endured much insult, resulting from the friendly wink he had made to Cynthia the day before. He had felt that if life could be rewound he was going to have the wink replaced with a wrinkled face to make a whole difference. The reason for this intention was brought about by the winks Henry now receiving from every side.
Henry’s winking action towards Cynthia a day ago had become a household stuff, the happening having been spread by Pete. Henry felt it was the ‘law of sowing and reaping’ taking effect:
“Give out a wink, receive back a handful.”
Henry had been rechristened “Winkie!” by allies and foes. All the girls he had turned down their proposals in the past now had him in derision.
“Winkie!” they called anytime they set their eyes on him, but one of those girls had a different view. She was Susie.
“I’m sorry I caused all this,” she said to Henry.
“You caused nothing, it’s my fate,” Henry told her, having the feelings that Susie’s continuous plea had got into a state of redundancy. But factually the more Susie was saying that she was sorry, the more Henry was getting enamored with her secretly.
“I know you never put those posters out there,” said Susie.
Susie seemed to be the only one who believed the pasting of the posters was not Henry’s handiwork, contrary to the belief of others, the dean included, who had opined that Henry had done it as a means to achieving some ends. However, her reason was backed up with the fact that she’d not only seen Ted putting those pictures in place everywhere they’d been situated, but she had also seen him standing behind the dean’s office to take some shots with his camera. Her evidences had justified, or rather, corroborated Henry’s claim.
Getting to Ted’s door, Henry gave it some hard knocks. It appeared the boy was going to knock down whatever would come out of there the same way he was knocking the door, but
fortunately—perhaps unfortunately—nothing came out of Ted’s room.
“Shit!” Henry vociferated as he turned back to go, having punished the door with frequent knocks. Just then he heard a clanking sound behind him, then a loud, “Winkie!” followed. Henry, shocked, looked behind him and saw the door opened as if of its own accord. Henry got inside and was gazing haphazardly at every corner to see who was in, but it was a futile exercise. He was gutted.
“Winkie!” he heard again, and a thud came in tandem with the voice.
“Ted!” screamed Henry, surprised. Ted had jumped down from the ceiling where he had hid himself. Henry, who was not in the mood to have any lengthy discussion, said, “You fool! I’ve been looking for you since yesterday. You pasted those posters, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Ted had responded.
“The dean’s picture in there, you snapped it—on February 27.”
“Yeah, but how d’you know this?” Ted was amazed.
“How I know these is none of your business,” Henry bawled. “Ted you’re in trouble.”
Ted began to panic.
“So… you two saw me rush out of the dean’s office yesterday.”
Ted was thinking that Henry and Professor Wilson had seen him while he was trying to escape from the dean’s office. Hardly had he put the poster in there when they arrived. He had managed to escape unnoticed.
“We never knew you were there, but Ted, be sure you’re dead.” It was Ted’s turn to bark at Henry.
“Why then did you say I’m dead? Did the dean see me?”
“No Ted, but I’m assuring you that you’re a dead man.”
Ted was upset. He had managed to say, “I’m sure you guys saw me fleeing, which was the reason I’ve been hiding since yesterday. It was the second version of the poster I had just finished pasting there when you arrived—the one that has your picture. Henry, please tell me, how did you know I was responsible for it?”
Henry left saying, “You are dead” to respond to Ted’s question.
“The door was opened without a key, so what else? The dean will roast you alive.”
“He saw me, isn’t it?” said Ted with great trepidation.
“Not at all, but I’m quite sure he’ll discover it.”
“How? Through you?”
“As if you don’t know how. Ted, you’re the only one in the magic known to him apart from me, so what other clue does he need?”
Ted laughed and said, “Stop fibbing Henry. We’ve got lots of us here—magicians. I know five, Ken, Joyce and Cheung inclusive—so leave that talk man.”
“What!” Henry cried out. “Li Cheung a magician—Impossible? Not that gentle and naïve boy in the department of Mathematics.”
“Who else?” Ted had said, using rhetorical question to affirm his confession. Ted went further to say, “You can’t tell from the face—Cheung can be pretending.” Ted added, “Back to what I’d said, there’s no way the dean would know it’s me—if you don’t tell him. By the way, how did you know that I snapped the man?”
Henry told Ted about the flashes he had seen.
“Wow!” Ted expressed great shock. “I never knew you were the guy in there with him that day; didn’t see you clearly through the panes.”
“All the same the dean will have you strangled—by himself,” said Henry in a way that had suggested his disinterestedness in the tête-à-tête going on.
“He didn’t know, did he?”
“He’ll surely use his power to get you,” said Henry. His statement had evoked laughter from Ted, who said, “He can’t. He is not going to use it on trivia such as this. Listen dude, in the magical circus it’s forbidden to use the magic just anyhow. Every unworthy use of the magic reduces your lifespan gradually.”
“Holy Connolly!” yelled Henry. “So, what’s the yardstick—used to distinguish trivial matters from cogent ones?” Ted’s sudden silence had suggested that he was confused, not able to clearly spell it out himself. At last he said, “I don’t know, but I’m feeling that this issue’s a trivial one.”
Ted’s confession seemed to have opened the door to the room of questions for Henry, and he’d readily entered into it:
“It means the issues of me getting Cynthia by magic or controlling Kate by it too are trivia, or what d’you think?”
“Maybe—” said Ted tardily, “I’m not sure.”
“So, how on earth is one going to know the difference between trivia and serious matters in the magic world if you keep saying you’re not sure?” Henry had yelled out his fear, but had only received a sudden muteness from Ted as a response. Henry was scared, having delivered his heart to a horrible thought decked with fear—the thought of reduction in lifespan. Since Ted was not going to speak, Henry’s heart began to pulsate and he started murmuring.
“What has been my gain? Since getting into magic only fear has been my reward. The ‘winkie stuff’ is the current one now. Yet, any attempt to use this shit may reduce my life…” Henry hesitated and looked at Ted, who was still in the posture Henry had last seen him with, but this time sweating profusely.
“Ted!” Henry shook him, but he wasn’t responding. Henry shook him the more and he responded.
“I’m sorry for keeping silent on you,” Ted apologized. “What you said made me horrified—that the Professor will kill me if he discovers this.”
“Didn’t you say it’s trivia and he won’t check it out?”
“I’m not sure of that anymore,” Ted said secretively. “Please Henry, don’t tell him I did this,” pleaded Ted in a disposition suggestive of the fact that Ted was scared of something, even beyond the present issue.
“Why should I? What’s going to be my gain if I tell him?” said Henry, deceiving his conscience again, and Ted too. Deep down Henry’s heart he had determined to tell the dean about it (though he would plead with the dean not to do anything to Ted) so that he could get the seventh question from the man.
“Thanks a lot,” said Ted and Henry replied, “No thanks, dude. I’ve got to go now.”
Recalling the response he had given to Ted, Henry gave a smile. He was proud of himself again.
“Why should I? That was my response,” Henry thought. “At least I’ve not told a lie. I’ve only asked a question.”

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Since hearing from the man, Henry had set a goal of seventy-five laurels for himself. From the turn-out of things, Henry had conjectured the person behind the ‘poster issue’—“Ted”, Henry thought. But Henry took caution not to be too much in a hurry to tell the dean it was him. He was going to have it confirmed first.
As he walked, Pete came around. The way Pete had approached Henry seemed to him that the boy was coming to make mockery of him.
“Hullo little lady-freak,” shouted Pete while still few distances away from Henry.
“Pete don’t get me upset,” Henry yelled back, to keep the boy away from him. Henry had long recognized Pete as the most cowed human he had ever seen in the human race. But it appeared Pete had dropped the jinx with the way he was moving confidently to towards Henry. He seemed not to be scared of Henry’s warning a bit.
“What are you going to do—huh?” queried Pete without fear or trembling. “You think by pasting your picture everywhere around the school so that you can get popular, then that’ll do to get Cynthia off my hands—huh? That’ll not work,” Pete dressed him down, yet he had some more things to say.
“I’ve told you she’s not a brainiac-freak.”
Henry looked sternly at Pete and withdrew from him. The boy was not through with him yet.
“Henry,” Pete called. “Next time I see you wink at her, I’m going to blot out those ugly eyes of yours.” Then he began to walk away like a boss of a big firm who was involved in a kind of illegal business, the types depicted in action movies.
Henry shouted, “Pete, I’ll get her from you,” on the top of his voice, in a manner suggesting that Henry had wanted to engender a contention so that he could have something to win. Pete yelled back, but his voice was not audible enough for Henry to decipher, for the reason of the distance between the source and the observer, which had swallowed up the sound before reaching the observer.

On arriving the Campus the man was made the centre of attraction, having become the cynosure of all eyes. Everyone was chanting and ranting, willing to touch the dean, who himself was waving proudly at them. The reporters and journalists too had been waiting patiently for his arrival. They made movement very difficult for him in attempts to get his voice down. The school security personnel had fought relentlessly too, to get rid of the mob on him, but no way. They had attempted to pull Henry away from him, who was glad to be the closest person to the dean, walking hand in hand with him. The man, having noticed that the security men were trying to get Henry away from him, had suddenly held on to Henry firmly, perhaps to let Henry have the feeling that he was not through with him yet.
“Professor Wilson Genius,” they had shouted. Some gave him several snapshots. “Professor of Professors,” they applauded.
Among the jostling throng Henry spotted Cynthia waving happily towards his direction too, and suddenly it appeared to Henry as if she was the only one he was seeing right before him. Their eyes came in contact and Henry gave her a friendly wink, but she only reciprocated with a look of scorn, leaving the scene immediately.
The pestering crowd forced some words out of the Professor’s mouth:
“You can take the medal if you can persistently step on the pedal by consistently hardworking and insistently believing that you’ll make it,” the Professor spoke out. It seemed the Professor had painstakingly memorized the witty speech he’d just spoken out before now. “Professor Wilson Genius, can you briefly tell us what had led to this great achievement of yours?” asked an eager female journalist.
“Well, it’s hard-work, nothing more. I’ve been working hard for many years, always keeping awake when everybody on earth is sleeping,” the dean had boasted, then he added, “Whoever you are, you can become a genius overnight—through hardworking.”
“Professor, some of your students had said that you’ve got the ability to make a genius out of people, just as you did to this boy standing with you here,” continued the female Journalist. Her teeth were not a little scattered inside their abode, as if some earthquakes that had taken place long ago in her mouth had been responsible for it.
“Yeah—it’s not possible for a person to make friendship with a genius without himself becoming a genius—that’s the situation here,” the dean had said.
At last the two achievers, Professor Wilson and Henry, entered the dean’s office. What they met was another surprise: the photograph of the geniuses—Einstein and Wilson. But this time Henry was in it too, carrying a dozen of textbooks. On this particular one was written:
“And this guy too; He is a match for the Professor and Einstein.”
Seeing it, the Professor shouted, “Heeeeeenry!” and the boy replied with fear, “I didn’t do it!”
“I’ll shoot you dead immediately if you give me that,” said the dean, pointing out two fingers at him, disbelieving his confession. Henry feared that some bullets were going to come out from those fingers, having visualized the possibility of such speculated occurrence as it had occurred in a Hollywood blockbuster movie he had watched of recent.
“Believe me, I didn’t” Henry said in fright.
“Who then is it?” the Professor said incredulously. “Answer me—uh.”
“How can it be me?” said Henry. “How on earth did I put this thing here while we were both in Washington together?” The dean guffawed at his word. Then he said, “Didn’t you come around to the school premises this morning? I’m sure you’ve done that before coming to meet me in the airport.”
“I came around quite alright, but the only place I visited was the library, to return some books—not your office,” the boy voiced out with a ruffled face. “Besides, I don’t have the key to your office, so there’s no way I could have gained entrance into it. I’m no sneak thief.”
Smiling, the dean said, “But you do have the magic. Perhaps you used it—to open the lock.”
“Not me,” said Henry on hearing the word ‘magic’, in a way that could make one believe that Henry would never have anything to do with witchcraft. “I’ve not used the magic for once.” The two kept silent.
Henry was the one who made the change to the silent ambiance by the words he spoke, “Sir, give me a short time and I’ll discover the one behind this.” One hearing this, the dean stopped pointing at him. Then Henry developed the gut to say, “Your fingers—have you got some magic in them too—to gun me down?” It elicited hilarity from the dean’s mouth. Amidst the laughter the man said, “Just to scare you dudes, there’s no such power as to possess bullets inside fingers.” Nevertheless, Henry said in his mind, “What about those mortal combatants in my computer game?”
“Once and for all, Henry, thanks for the award-winning synopsis you wrote—for me,” said the dean, and Henry had replied, “You’re welcome” but his heart was saying, “Why didn’t you say so in the public for all to hear?”
Later Henry said, “Can I take my leave—now?”
“Not until you’ve received something from me, for the award…”
“Until I’ve known who pasted them everywhere I won’t get anything from you,” said Henry, pointing to the strange poster on the wall.
Coming as an afterthought Henry said, “I’ve got a question to ask.” Having received a gesture from the dean Henry said, “You said something’ll happen to me if you didn’t win the award. What was it?”
The dean denied it unscrupulously.
“I can’t remember saying such.”
“You said that,” Henry said wonderingly. “I remember vividly how you had said it. You said, Just go through ’em all, prepare for me an award-winning synopsis. Seven days to do this Henry, else…”
The man was prompted to say, “Oh, I can remember now. But Henry how were you able to preserve the exact words I used that day? Or, is it your magnetic brain doing it for you?”
Henry made a piteous reply, “It’s because those words were threats to me. They kept on ringing in my brain from the moment you uttered them to the time you got the award yesterday.”
The dean felt sorry for Henry and made it known to him by saying, “I’m sorry for putting you through such horrible experience.” Then he answered Henry’s question slyly by saying, “Nothing was the something that was going to happen to you if I hadn’t won the award—is that okay?”
“I can’t admit that,” Henry said. “Sir, can you remember the day I said ‘nobody’ was the ‘somebody’ I told about our meeting, you refused to accept it?”
The man’s countenance fell, not knowing what to say. The dean’s condition offered Henry the opportunity to say, “Sir, I won’t leave here except you tell m—else…”
The dean had perceived the boy was going to keep to his resolution, so he had cleverly said, “I never want you to hear this, but, I’m now left with no option other than to tell you.”
“What’s it?” said Henry curiously.
“I’ve spent forty-four good years in this planet and won forty prominent laurels—including the Nobel Prize, but I was still unfulfilled…”
“Why?” barged in Henry.
“Because I’d not won the Professor award yet. So to be fulfilled in life I’d asked you to write the thesis for me.” What the dean was professing was true, but that was not the ‘else’ Henry had demanded.
“Do you mean if you hadn’t won it yesterday, you won’t win it anymore for the rest of your life?”
“Exactly,” the dean had said.
“Why d’you feel so?”
“My inner magical spirit had told me that. Henry, as soon as you joined the cult, I felt it that the synopsis which would bring me the award wouldn’t come from any one other than you. To get you to write the damn thing for me I had to put you in a state whereby you wouldn’t have a choice than to write it. Therefore, I made the mystery that had led you into it—your trouble with Susie.”
To Henry it was far more than trouble. The dean had ensured his friendship with Susie.
“I still have nine more things to achieve,” the dean said further and Henry was shocked.
“So—you mean you’ll be stopping at fifty awards, even if you will be living up hundred years?”
“Exactly,” the dean said. Instantly then, the man was desiring Henry’s exit in such a manner as if he had got some secrets to keep away from the boy.[

The plane soon touched down. A taxicab was already waiting to pick up the professor.
“Sir, are you Professor Wilson Gee,” said the taxi driver and the dean said, “Yes.” The man noticed Henry and said, “Is he your kid?”
“Yeah, my kid,’ the dean said, but the driver had got one more question for Henry, “What’s your name?” “Henry White,” said Henry, but his answer seemed not sufficient to satisfy the dean, who said immediately, “Henry Gee, not Henry White.” Nevertheless, they got into car and it sped off.
Henry thought he’d known something; that the dean would stop saying “Henry Gee,” as soon as he had lost out in the seminar presentation. Henry was instantly lost in thought:
“He’ll say, ‘Henry White, you’re not going back home with me. You’d better find your way back to campus yourself.’ I’ll say, ‘Sir I’ve got no airfare’ but he’ll say, ‘I don’t care’. I’ll say, ‘Sir… but you brought me here for God’s sake. Is this how you want to have me punished?’ He’ll say angrily, ‘This isn’t punishment. Be sure I’ve got stacks of punishments, real ones, waiting for you on campus. Be sure I’ll see to it that you don’t graduate Summa Cum Laude from the CCUL.’
“I’ll say, ‘But why? I think I said it then that I’m not capable of writing for you an award-winning synopsis. I’m a teenager for God’s sake.’ He’ll say, ‘Shut up there! Collins the youngest Professor in history was only nineteen when he became a professor. Ain’t you nineteen too—so what’s it you’re saying that you’re not capable of…?”
Henry screamed suddenly, “I’m not Collins for Christ’s sake—got my own destiny to fulfill!” He soon became aware of what had happened. Henry had just let out a scream, a product of the ‘He’ll-say-I’ll-say’ imagination he’d occupied his addled brain with.
“Henry, are you all right at all?” the dean barked. “I don’t think so?” he had added in disagreement to Henry’s head movement. “You yelled like that just because I tapped you to inform you that we’ve got to our destination? You’ll sure tell me who that Collins of yours is.” While the man spoke, Henry kept mute, but that doesn’t make the dean stop talking. Instead, the man became more persistent.
“Are you dreaming or what…or did I call you Collins?”
“I’m very sorry. I’d been in a reverie,” Henry had pleaded, intending to make him keep calm. “I’m very very sorry,” he said again, as if two adjoining “veries” would do instead of one to placate the dean.
It’s alright,” said the dean. “Let’s alight.”
Henry’s heart missed a beat.
The presentations were broadcast worldwide. After all the hustle and bustle of the day, Professor Wilson was eventually announced the gold medal award winner to Henry’s amazement. He was given a check instantly, bearing a large amount of cash. The silver medal went to Professor Teddy Brown from England, while the Bronze medal honor was for Professor Kofi Johnson of Africa (who was a Ghanaian, known to Henry in Gyrus). Henry’s joy knew no bound on hearing his dean’s name called as the number one. Seeing Henry when the judge was about to announce the winners earlier, one would have clearly perceive that Henry was more under pressure than any of the contenders—even the dean. Henry had felt that somebody from bigger Universities such as Harvard or Oxford would have carried the day. He had almost collapsed when the judge was announcing it:
“And the winner is professor…” the speaker had paused deliberately, maybe, to increase the blood pressure of every one in the large auditorium.
As expected, the spectators had said “Professor what?” and the judge had finally said, “Professor Wilson Gee from the University of California…here in the US.” Then shouts of joy, which might have possibly been adulterated by some immeasurable amounts of contumelious moans by the unsatisfied ones, had filled the air. Seemed Henry’s voice was the loudest. He had screamed, “I did it!” to the hearing of people around him, jumping and leaping triumphantly, but the poor boy had received a sharp query from one of them.
“ You did what?” asked a black man who was sitting next to him, while many others were staring at him too.
“Em…Em,” Henry stammered, knowing that there was nothing he had to say.
“Young man, you’re just fooling around here in a corner, yelling for someone who never knows who you are,” another man had said, and yet another said, “You’d better not let the Professor hear that you said you did what he did. A dream that can never be accomplished, that’s what you’ve got. He’ll sue you.” She was a young lady.
Not able to swallow the shame, Henry had sneaked away from their presence to another place.
A limousine pulled up the next day in front of the motel they had lodged in overnight. It was an entirely different vehicle this time, from the one that had transported them to the presentation venue. The limousine pulled up at the Seattle Tacoma International Airport, from where they took their flight back to California.
Aboard the plane, they spoke again:
“Henry Gee, I’m so proud of you. I’m sorry I’ve got no time with you yesterday, due to my frailty…you know…after times of sleepless nights.
“No thanks Prof., you did it,” said Henry, but the man said, “We did it!” instead, then he added excitedly, “Got an open check for you.”
“What’s it sir?”
“Ask anything from me till the one-third of the cash prize,” said the dean. Just as if he knew what Henry can do the man quickly modified his words by saying, “But don’t ask what I can’t do.” Some kinds of emotional expressions of elation had explicitly elevated Henry’s mood on hearing the dean’s statements, so he asked promptly, “The seventh question…and the answer.”
“I can’t tell you that Henry.”
“I thought you’ve just said that I should ask you anything,” Henry frowned.
“Yeah, but I said—don’t ask me what I can’t do. To get the seventh question you have my condition already—to get me the photographer,” said the dean, smiling.
“Well—I’ll sure find that out—very soon,” Henry had resolved.
Henry was silent again, but the dean had to remind him of the open check. “You’ve not asked me what you want me to do for you?” the dean had said, but Henry had replied, “First thing first…I need the seventh question. Maybe I’ll think of what to ask after that.”
“It’s okay,” the Professor had said, and in a short moment he was dozing off unconsciously beside the wondering boy.

oluwatosin070:
Thanks for the update. I'm so loving this story... Kudos

Thanks

Henry was afraid that the man would vent his anger on him if he eventually did not come out the winner of the presentation, so he had felt that avoiding him would be the solution. The return flight would be full of reprimands, if the dean lost the award.
“I’ve bought the flight ticket already—you have my word,” the dean said, and in a moment, he was off.
Henry, being left alone still staring at his mirror in awe, was able to view the reflection his face. It was glum. Having no choice, Henry had to prepare to meet the dean. But he was going to visit the school library first, to return some of the borrowed books he had got with him. After taking a cup of coffee Henry left the apartment to get a cab that would transport him to the library. Henry saw the poster of the dean, placed side by side with that of Einstein, pasted on many suitable places around the school. It seemed both geniuses (Albert Einstein and Professor Wilson) were performing the same action in them—clicking their skulls. Henry moved very close to one of those amazing pictures with great interest. He read the statement on the poster:
THE DEAN OF THE PRESTIGIOUS CALIFORNIA CITY UNIVERSITY IS PRESENTING A SEMINAR TODAY, ON NUCLEAR PHYSICS. IS HE A MATCH FOR ALBERT EINSTEIN THE GENIUS? LET’S WATCH IF HE’S GOING TO EMERGE THE WINNER OF THE GLOBAL SEMINAR PRESENTATION.”
No one knew who had put those posters there. They just crowded around them, making silly remarks about them in a hilarious manner. The dean had seen it too, but himself was amazed, never remembering having taken any picture in the ‘skull-clicking’ pose like the one in the poster. But seeing it, Henry’s mind flashed back to his first encounter with the dean in his office, when he was bragging and clicking his skull subconsciously as he prided himself on being wiser than Albert Einstein, in Henry’s presence then.
“Someone must have snapped him then,” thought Henry, calling back to memory the flashes of light he’d seen then, coming from the window.”
Henry soon joined the Professor in the Airport. The plane arrived after some moments of waiting patiently. The two were not silent all through the flight period. They were busy all the while discussing, since their seats were abutting each other.
The dean said, “Young man, have you been to the campus this morning—before coming to the airport?”
“Y-Yes,” said Henry, already speculating what the lecturer had intended to do with the question. As conjectured by Henry, Professor Wilson said further, “I’m definitely sure you saw those pictures of myself and Einstein put side by side.”
“I saw them. What about them?”
“Who did that?”
“I don’t know, “Henry said. “All I know is I didn’t do it.” Henry had quickly uttered such to get himself out of the trouble he was insinuating.
“That fellow must be a silly plonker!” the dean had yelled. “Henry, d’you know the implication of the statement he’d written along with the picture? If I don’t win the award then I’m not a match for Einstein—that’s the implication.” The dean resumed his speech. “But…that’s not philosophically true.”
Henry never uttered a word. His chin was leaning on his right palm, probably, engrossed in thought.
“Dude, If I lay my hands on him I’ll sure tear him apart. I’m quite sure he’s going to be expelled from the CCUL,” said the dean frankly. He spoke on as Henry remained speechless beside him, like an android, which had been asked to keep shut.
“I don’t even know when the picture was taken. I’ve never posed myself that way in any of my photographs. Checked through them yesterday and never came across any as such,” the dean murmured continuously.
“I think I know when it was taken,” said Henry suddenly and the dean gripped the collar of his silky shirt immediately, demanding impatiently when it was.
“The first day I stepped into your office, while you were telling me about your ability, which, according to you, surpasses that of Albert Einstein,”
The dean, having remembered, said, “Then who snapped me?” Henry saw it as an opportunity to get the dean to tell him what the seventh question was all about. He was going to use diplomacy to get it.
“Promise me you’ll remind me of the seventh question if I tell you.”
“I will,” agreed the dean impetuously.
“Sincerely I don’t know who…but, I saw flashes of light coming from the window. I’m sure the photographer was standing behind the window then. So… the seventh question,” Henry demanded. “At least I’ve told you all I know—about the incident.”
“Sincerely I don’t know the last question—I’ve forgotten it too,” said the dean uproariously. “I’ll be a fool if I tell you that, when you didn’t provide an answer to my own question too.” “But will you tell me if I eventually find out and tell you who was behind the picture?”
“Sure,” the man had agreed.
“It’s a deal,” Henry had said.

CHAPTER SEVEN
THE PROFESSOR'S AWARD
“Henry!” the man shouted. Henry’s buttocks were glued to his seat. “Are you saying that this can earn me the award?” The Professor waved the write up before his face.
“I don’t know,” responded Henry, anticipating something worse.
“Well, I shall go through it today. I’ll get across to you—at night.”
“At night?” Henry yelled, “Hope not through the mirror.” Henry’s reaction depicted that he was possibly eisoptrophobic, but in the actual sense he wasn’t. Perhaps, he was just scared of the magical mirror in particular, which could even be illuminating at night when put to use.
“Where else?” said the dean, not intending to ask a question, but was letting him know that he was bent on using the mirror. “You think I’m going to want to burn my credit unnecessarily on telephone calls when I’ve got my mirror—charge free—and every other benefit attached to it. Listen, if you don’t use it you don’t get wiser. Have you ever proved your magic at all?” the man asked inquisitively.
“No sir.” Henry’s face glowered. “… and I don’t think I’ll use it at all.”
“Why?”
“’Cause I don’t see the need.”
The Professor smirked and said, “You’ll sure use it…someday.”
“Why d’you think so?”
“Because Professor Wilson Gee say so,” said the dean, beating his chest in an egoistic manner.
“I won’t—” replied Henry, “because I said I won’t,” he added in a mimetic style.
“You’ve got goat-like characters indeed—stubborn.”
“Can I take my leave,” Henry had said rudely.
“Sure, if you want to,” the dean had replied, “Got no business with you till after the presentation of the seminar.”
Few days later, early in the morning, the indispensable urge to look at the mirror came upon Henry again. Henry picked up an ordinary mirror at first.
“Not this,” said Henry, quickly dropping it carefully to go for the magical one. His heart missed a beat on seeing the dean’s image in it.
“What’s he up to again?” Henry had thought.
“Shocked!” the laterally inverted image of the dean had said. “You’re thinking of what I’m up to again.”
“What!” Henry exclaimed. “How d’you know that’s what’s on my mind? Does the magic include mind-synching?”
“Sure. While looking into the mirror you’ve got the benefit of reading the mind of the other fellow in an unmistakable and precise manner—something that the psychologist cannot do.”
“Really!”
“Henry,” said the man going straight to the point, “I’ve obtained a flight ticket for you. We’re flying together to Washington today. Guess what, we’re going to the venue of the Seminar Presentation together, this morning. Meet me at the Port of Los Angeles presently.”
“Must I come with you?” said Henry out of panic. “I don’t deem it necessary.”

Happy Sunday everyone.
Please don't miss church service today.
Let's go and hear the word of God.
Don't forget to pray for your nation.

Henry was engrossed in the taxing work that he had just been endowed with by the Professor. Fear mingled with horror at a gargantuan extent, had possibly thrust him into some ineffable actions for seven days. Having set everything apart, he had focused on the dean’s arduous task assiduously, though not trusting in his ability to write an award-winning synopsis for the dean. While at work only one thought sometimes crossed his mind—Susie, not Cynthia this time. Since having a clinch with Susie in the rain, Henry had developed a secret affection for her, though not yet made known to her.
Henry had considered perusing the whole textbook a suicidal manifestation. He made up his mind not to open them at all. From the knowledge he had already acquired in the past on Nuclear Physics, Henry wrote the synopsis. He had had much cognition of the subject, Nuclear Physics, earlier in life. Thanks to the library he had made his ‘next of kin’ those times.
Henry was through with it after seven days, but he waited till the eighth day to get it across to the dean, for fear of being snubbed by him, believing that a nineteen-year old boy of his kind cannot write out what was going to be award-winning amidst the intelligentsias across the globe.
On getting to the lecture room, he saw his photographs with mates, made a cynosure. In them he was carrying twelve huge textbooks, the Professor’s own.
“Hi Henry, bookworm,” he was taunted by a girl, who had burst into laughter. Another said, “I’m pretty sure you’ve got the content of these books inside your puny brain,” pushing Henry’s forehead roughly with a finger. Henry was abashed. He had felt like applying his yet unproved magical power on them immediately, but he declined.
Susie came closer, still conceiving a guilty conscience.
“I got you into these. I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Never mind Susie,’ replied Henry in a very polite manner, which had sent her smiling secretly, believing that she’d got him at last after about two years and a month of trials and errors to get his attention.
On the marker board was written an implicating statement about Henry. He read it silently and the look on his face was that of dejection:

Henry needs Cynthia badly. He will do anything to get her. Yes, things like carrying myriads of books in his hands—just to impress her that he’s such a genius.

Still looking at the board in anger, Henry felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking back, he discovered it was Pete, Cynthia’s boyfriend. The boy smirked and said, “Young chap, you think you can have her love by this—impossible? She’s no braniac-freak.”
Pete was loud-mouthed, but seeming to be the most easily cowed. He was a timid type who could even be intimidated by a tomboy, or any lady who wished to scare him. All such one would need do was to pose a threat at him. Pete had joined the school basketball team so that he could receive a level of protection from his teammates, who had helped him out of troubles at one time or the other.
Henry said in annoyance, “Who’re you talking about?” as if he didn’t know. The boy replied, “Cynthia. She’s going to stick with sportsman—like me. She’ll kick your ar*se.”
Though Henry’s care for Cynthia was no more wholesome, the urge to have her by all means so as to silence Pete who had been bragging all the while came upon Henry immediately in a gush.
“I’ll sure get her one day,” Henry had thought, “but not with magic,” he had added.

Ted’s quest for geniuses on campus had also led him to a bully called Julius. Ted had misconstrued the macho man for a genius, having heard friends and foes call him ‘Genius’. He never knew that the senior student had only acquired such name by bullying on some weaker ones. Julius had asked to be called by such name and they had to give it to him to avoid his avoidable troubles.
Ted, being a first-year student then, had approached Julius to ask for his hands in friendship, but the guy had treated him badly.
“What level are you?” asked Julius cruelly as he grabbed Ted’s scruff forcibly.
“A first year student,” Ted spoke in a shaky tone.
“First year!” exclaimed Julius, expressing shock. He had counted it a discourteous attitude for a first year student to walk up to someone like him, a final-year student. He would have him disgraced.
“I’ll teach you how to respect your seniors,” Julius had said, shoving him away and winking concurrently to his followers. As if under the influence of a remote control, they descended on Ted, beating him blue-black and getting rid of his trousers, but leaving him with his underwear, at least to let him have something to still make do with. However, they went away with his pocket money, pulling out the inner part of his pocket.
Ted since then had kept an eye on the rogue, Julius, waiting eagerly for an opportunity to revenge. Going by the look of things then such opportunity might not come and therefore Ted might need to wait for long in vain. But Ted’s hope came alive suddenly when the dean, Professor Wilson, had him initiated into magic, having made the man his friend when he got to know that he was a genius.
When Julius was graduating, he was preparing to receive an award for the hip-hop music he’d entertained the audience with (having sang in the graduation ceremony). He mounted the podium to receive his award from Professor Wilson’s hands, but something unbelievable happened. As he opened his mouth for a smile, his teeth, all of them, were discovered missing. Despite the disgusting sight, many still held up their cameras to take a view of the toothless bully. Ted’s doing!

Martinez39s:
@sammyLuvin

Thanks.

You're welcome

Susie felt that by intensifying her threats towards Ted, much pressure would be mounted upon him to as well intensify the talks concerning her before Henry, believing that one day Henry was going to change his orientation toward her, but it seemed she was making a mistake. Henry was willful still.
Susie began to blackmail Ted, receiving some paltry sums of cash from him often. Ted had no option then than to give them to her, to avoid losing his friend. All of a sudden Ted was fed up, but not until Susie had bilked him to bankruptcy. He told Susie to go ahead and tell Henry about it and she never hesitated to do such. Surprisingly, Henry was not a bit perturbed by the news. He only confronted Ted to confirm the authenticity of the news and Ted unequivocally admitted that Susie’s observation was the truth. Thereafter Henry didn’t take any step whatsoever to end the relationship with Ted. Instead his abhorrence for Susie congealed from that moment, on the ground that she had swindled Ted, his new friend often.
Susie was sad that she had made a fool of herself by reporting the case to Ted, who could have been the only hope of bringing her into a chummy relationship with Henry. Realizing her mistake, she later went to Ted secretly to apologize, yet she never restored all the cash she had extorted from him since Ted never asked her for that.
It went on that way between Henry and Susie until two years later (the day Henry had the hug with her in the rain) when she finally had his favor, but Henry had already begun to cast his eyes at Cynthia before then.

After Henry’s departure, Ted walked slowly to the bullies. Seemed he had been in connivance with them from the onset to get Henry deceived. They gathered round him, stretching their palms towards him, but this time it seemed they were not asking for an autograph.
“The money,” they demanded and Ted tucked his right hand inside his pocket, brought out some money and delivered it into the waiting hand of one of them. At this time the autograph signed by Henry was no more on their palms. They had all got rid of them by scrubbing their palms together, having spat little saliva into them for easy erasure of the unwanted autographs.
Susie smiled, having got the mystery solved. She had it settled in her mind that Ted had colluded with those guys to get Henry deceived. She had to rush down to her class in order not to be late for the test.
Ted later came demanding for his bet from Susie. She refused giving it to him, letting him know that he had achieved the feat in a dishonest manner. To make Ted agree to the non-remittance of the wager, Susie threatened to blackmail him. Ted had to forgo the money for good, since he wouldn’t want to lose Henry, whom he had paid dearly for, to earn his friendship.
Susie was going to coerce Ted into telling Henry her feelings towards him. Henry was adamant. He never listened to Ted, telling him that he had aversion towards the opposite gender, using his sister as an example.
“I’m not interested in girls,” Henry had said. In a short moment his keenness with Ted had become full-blown. Susie was jealous, having been chasing after Henry right from the first month on campus, but had never been once considered by Henry.

Dedicated to Martinez39s for his encouraging comment.

Henry was going to write a test. Suddenly, some groups of boys, who had on them some tattered jean trousers and bedraggled hair, encircled him. They were mixture of the Whites and the Black Americans.
“Hey,” said one of them, snatching his schoolbag. “You’ve got to drop something for the guys.”
“My ar*se,” replied Henry inimically, pointing a finger at his buttock ridiculously.
“You’ll pay for that—with your test,” the gutted boys said. Henry soon realized it was no child’s play when his hands were suddenly held backward by those guys and he was lifted off the ground. He shouted.
“Leave me alone. I’m almost late.” His words seemed not sufficient to make them have a change of mind. But Ted was around just in time to rescue Henry from their unfriendly hoist.
“Leave the poor boy alone,” Ted demanded.
“Who the hell are you?” said the guy in whose hands Henry was.
“I’m Ted,” Ted replied, “He’s a gentle boy.”
“It’s none of our business. He’s got to give us something,” they said with a tone of hostility.
“He’s a genius,” Ted said. As if those boys were genius—freaks they put Henry down gently, each of them stretching their palms before him, this time not to ask for money, but to demand an autograph.
“We’re very sorry,” they said. “Please your autograph.” Henry picked his pen, which had fallen off his bag, from the floor. Like a celebrity Henry scribbled his signature into the palm of each boy.
“Thanks,” they said happily, leaving him.
Henry stood like an idi*ot, looking shamefacedly at Ted. Just as he was about to say a word one of the boys ran back to them. Henry had almost run away for fear that he was coming for him again to ride roughshod on him, but to his utmost surprise the guy said, “My second palm too” stretching it before him. Henry signed into it again, then the guy skittered away childishly, looking into his newly autographed left palm.
“Thanks,” said Henry to Ted in a whisper, “You won me.” He shook hands with Ted, who was grinning excitedly. Susie was watching them covertly too. It staggered her to see them together at last, being the seventh day Ted had given as a deadline for the bet. Since she did see clearly the event that led to the friendship between the two, she was going to find out the real cause of it at the expense of the test she was soon to write. She hid herself somewhere, watching Ted’s movement.

Martinez39s:
You are a good writer.

Thanks a lot. You are getting the next dedication.

oluwatosin070:
Thanks for the update...

You're welcome. And anytime u feel that update is not enough, pls feel free to ask any you will receive. Thanks.

CHAPTER SIX
RECEPTION BY DECEPTION

Ted had gone miles in search of the said genius in the campus, who, according to Henry, was having the same Grade Point Average as Henry. If Ted had found him, he would have extended a hand of friendship to him immediately, not minding the fact that Henry could be skeptical about the motive behind such ideated friendship, but unfortunately Ted’s effort was not fecund. He never saw someone like such.

Two years back, Ted had carried out such kind of exercise too, to discover Henry. Having heard about Henry then, Ted came to the Physics Department where Henry had belonged, to seek for him. Prior to that time Henry was without a single friend, having determined before getting into the campus that he was not going to have one. When Ted came around, Henry made it known to him that he was going to be faithful to his rather seemingly impossible resolution, but Ted assured Henry that it was not going to be possible.

“It’s a lie young man. No man can live in isolation,” Ted had said.

“Are you calling me a liar?” Henry voiced out, red with anger. He was undoubtedly a Prima Donna, never wanting to accept his flaws.

“ That’s who you are if you are telling me that,” replied Ted, fearlessly. Henry moved closer and held the collar of Ted’s shirt rudely, shouting out some swear words:

“Look at this idiotic mad fellow! I hate liars all my life. How dare you call me a liar!”

“So that you can hate yourself,” replied Ted, “for lying that you can be in isolation.”

Hearing Ted’s reply, Henry left the collar of his shirt in a way that seemed he had been affected by the boy’s speech. However, he looked at him with a wrinkled face and yelled, “Bastard” at him as he turned around to leave.

“Ain’t you going to consider my proposal… to become your friend?” said Ted, remaining on the spot.

“Never!” shouted Henry cruelly without turning back to look at him. “We can never be friends.”

“You’re wrong,” said Ted. “We shall be best friends…soonest.” On hearing that Henry turned back. He was at it again, wanting to win an argument. He came to Ted.

“I bet you, we shall never be,” yelled Henry as they hooked their index fingers together briskly to seal the bet.

Hardly had Henry left when a female student walked up to Ted. She was Henry’s departmental mate—Susie.

“Hey guy, you want to make friend with somebody?” she said. Ted was shocked, because he never noticed anyone was around during the course of his conversation with Henry. However he answered, “Yes…that boy over there.”

“Hmm,” sounded Susie. “You can’t get him, I’m assuring you. Seems like he’s autistic,” said Susie in a critical and rather genuine manner.
“Autistic or no I’m getting him, as far as he’s a genius and—I’m a geniophile,” Ted had said, not minding the fact that his last word could be grammatically unsuitable for what he had meant it for.

Susie, not taking into consideration the fact that Ted was just meeting her for the first time, had demanded for a bet instantly, in opposition to what Ted had just said. Ted agreed to the bet and the wager was agreed upon by the two—some paltry amount of money.
“Give me a week and he’ll be my best friend,” Ted had said.

Henry was going to write a test. Suddenly, some groups of boys, who had on them some tattered jean trousers and bedraggled hair, encircled him. They were mixture of the Whites and the Black Americans.

“Hey,” said one of them, snatching his schoolbag. “You’ve got to drop something for the guys.”

“My arse,” replied Henry inimically, pointing a finger at his buttock ridiculously.
“You’ll pay for that—with your test,” the gutted boys said. Henry soon realized it was no child’s play when his hands were suddenly held backward by those guys and he was lifted off the ground. He shouted.

“Leave me alone. I’m almost late.” His words seemed not sufficient to make them have a change of mind. But Ted was around just in time to rescue Henry from their unfriendly hoist.

“Leave the poor boy alone,” Ted demanded.

“Who the hell are you?” said the guy in whose hands Henry was.

“I’m Ted,” Ted replied, “He’s a gentle boy.”

“It’s none of our business. He’s got to give us something,” they said with a tone of hostility.

“He’s a genius,” Ted said. As if those boys were genius—freaks they put Henry down gently, each of them stretching their palms before him, this time not to ask for money, but to demand an autograph.

“We’re very sorry,” they said. “Please your autograph.” Henry picked his pen, which had fallen off his bag, from the floor. Like a celebrity Henry scribbled his signature into the palm of each boy.

“Thanks,” they said happily, leaving him.

Henry stood like an idiot, looking shamefacedly at Ted. Just as he was about to say a word one of the boys ran back to them. Henry had almost run away for fear that he was coming for him again to ride roughshod on him, but to his utmost surprise the guy said, “My second palm too” stretching it before him. Henry signed into it again, then the guy skittered away childishly, looking into his newly autographed left palm.

“Thanks,” said Henry to Ted in a whisper, “You won me.” He shook hands with Ted, who was grinning excitedly. Susie was watching them covertly too. It staggered her to see them together at last, being the seventh day Ted had given as a deadline for the bet. Since she did see clearly the event that led to the friendship between the two, she was going to find out the real cause of it at the expense of the test she was soon to write. She hid herself somewhere, watching Ted’s movement.

After Henry’s departure, Ted walked slowly to the bullies. Seemed he had been in connivance with them from the onset to get Henry deceived. They gathered round him, stretching their palms towards him, but this time it seemed they were not asking for an autograph.

“The money,” they demanded and Ted tucked his right hand inside his pocket, brought out some money and delivered it into the waiting hand of one of them. At this time the autograph signed by Henry was no more on their palms. They had all got rid of them by scrubbing their palms together, having spat little saliva into them for easy erasure of the unwanted autographs.

Susie smiled, having got the mystery solved. She had it settled in her mind that Ted had colluded with those guys to get Henry deceived. She had to rush down to her class in order not to be late for the test.

Ted later came demanding for his bet from Susie. She refused giving it to him, letting him know that he had achieved the feat in a dishonest manner. To make Ted agree to the non-remittance of the wager, Susie threatened to blackmail him. Ted had to forgo the money for good, since he wouldn’t want to lose Henry, whom he had paid dearly for, to earn his friendship.

Susie was going to coerce Ted into telling Henry her feelings towards him. Henry was adamant. He never listened to Ted, telling him that he had aversion towards the opposite gender, using his sister as an example.
“I’m not interested in girls,” Henry had said. In a short moment his keenness with Ted had become full-blown. Susie was jealous, having been chasing after Henry right from the first month on campus, but had never been considered once by Henry.

Susie felt that by intensifying her threats towards Ted, much pressure would be mounted upon him to as well intensify the talks concerning her before Henry, believing that one day Henry was going to change his orientation toward her, but it seemed she was making a mistake. Henry was willful still.

Susie began to blackmail Ted, receiving some paltry sums of cash from him often. Ted had no option then than to give them to her, to avoid losing his friend. All of a sudden Ted was fed up, but not until Susie had bilked him to bankruptcy. He told Susie to go ahead and tell Henry about it and she never hesitated to do such.

Surprisingly, Henry was not a bit perturbed by the news. He only confronted Ted to confirm the authenticity of the news and Ted unequivocally admitted that Susie’s observation was the truth. Thereafter Henry didn’t take any step whatsoever to end the relationship with Ted. Instead his abhorrence for Susie congealed from that moment, on the ground that she had swindled Ted, his new friend often.

Susie was sad that she had made a fool of herself by reporting the case to Ted, who could have been the only hope of bringing her into a chummy relationship with Henry. Realizing her mistake, she later went to Ted secretly to apologize, yet she never restored all the cash she had extorted from him since Ted never asked her for that.

It went on that way between Henry and Susie until two years later (the day Henry had the hug with her in the rain) when she finally had his favor, but Henry had already begun to cast his eyes at Cynthia before then.

Ted’s quest for geniuses on campus had also led him to a bully called Julius. Ted had misconstrued the macho man for a genius, having heard friends and foes call him ‘Genius’. He never knew that the senior student had only acquired such name by bullying on some weaker ones. Julius had asked to be called by such name and they had to give it to him to avoid his avoidable troubles.

Ted, being a first-year student then, had approached Julius to ask for his hands in friendship, but the guy had treated him badly.
“What level are you?” asked Julius cruelly as he grabbed Ted’s scruff forcibly.

“A first year student,” Ted spoke in a shaky tone.
“First year!” exclaimed Julius, expressing shock. He had counted it a discourteous attitude for a first year student to walk up to someone like him, a final-year student. He would have him disgraced.

“I’ll teach you how to respect your seniors,” Julius had said, shoving him away and winking concurrently to his followers. As if under the influence of a remote control, they descended on Ted, beating him blue-black and getting rid of his trousers, but leaving him with his underwear, at least to let him have something to still make do with. However, they went away with his pocket money, pulling out the inner part of his pocket.

Ted since then had kept an eye on the rogue, Julius, waiting eagerly for an opportunity to revenge. Going by the look of things then such opportunity might not come and therefore Ted might need to wait for long in vain. But Ted’s hope came alive suddenly when the dean, Professor Wilson, had him initiated into magic, having made the man his friend when he got to know that he was a genius.

When Julius was graduating, he was preparing to receive an award for the hip-hop music he’d entertained the audience with (having sang in the graduation ceremony). He mounted the podium to receive his award from Professor Wilson’s hands, but something unbelievable happened. As he opened his mouth for a smile, his teeth, all of them, were discovered missing. Despite the disgusting sight, many still held up their cameras to take a view of the toothless bully. Ted’s doing!

Still speaking some other people came around again, releasing flashes of light on Henry from their capturing gadgets. They were males this time. Henry’s annoyance was aroused. He made swift movements to leave the scene, but Susie hurried to catch up with him. She stood right in front of him to halt his walk.
“I’m very sorry Henry. It’s my fault. I’ll sure deal with those girls.”
“Which girls?” responded Henry rudely. He was incredibly stunned that Susie had seen his first set of snappers, whom he had felt that she never saw, since she was not around yet when they did snapped him.
Susie replied, “Those ladies that gave you the first round of snapshots a while ago.” It then occurred to Henry that Susie wasn’t the type to cast aside as far as optical genius is concerned. Her tears flowed down again in torrents and the raindrops began to descend again, this time in torrents. Henry handed the books to Ted, who had already placed his umbrella over his own head. Henry was going to hug her.
During the embrace there was snapshot again; this time Ted’s handiwork, having placed down the textbooks and spread the umbrella over them, being wary of the intense consequences that could accompany the destruction of the dean’s books if they got soaked with the raindrops. Ted bore them up again later and said, “Henry, these books are heavy” as he handed them over to Henry again…

CHAPTER FIVE
THE PROFESSOR’S RETRIBUTION

Henry rose from bed. The first place he headed was the bathroom. Turning on the knob, he had his bath under the shower. The ablution was done perfunctorily, something unusual with him. Henry had always taken painstaking care of his body in the past, spending over half an hour in the bathroom each time. But those bathing periods were never without deliberate complaints from Kate, who would always want to have her bath same time he was having his, neglecting the fact that there were several other bathrooms she could have made use of. She would bang the door forcefully, hollering on the top of her voice that Henry had lingered too long in there. Many at times Henry would come out, half-dressed, with lather all over his body, to deal brutally with her. Indeed Kate was the pugnacious type.
Back to the thought of the impending punishment, Henry’s heart lurched. Though not intending to fast, Henry decided to skip breakfast. The first familiar face he saw that foggy morning was Susie’s own. Surprisingly her eyes were misty, almost like the prototype of the nimbostratus cloud covering the sky that morning. Henry was still trying to deduce something when tears began to flow down Susie’s face. Coincidentally, perhaps incidentally, the sky began to shed tears too. It was raining.
Henry, never wanting to be cozened by her supposed slyness, made a U-turn away from Susie’s direction.
“A second look could mean another trouble,” Henry thought, “Sphinx!”
Henry had only trekked few distances when Ted and himself ran into one another. His countenance fell because he felt that he was soon going to be ridiculed for losing the argument.
“Henry, how’s the mirror?” said Ted in a humorous manner. “I hope it’s not in pieces yet.”
“Nope,” replied Henry, wanting to deliberately exhibit an amazingly humongous terseness. As expected, Ted said, “I won the argument, you lost.”
“Agreed,” said Henry dissatisfied. “How did you make me use the mirror?”
Ted smiled and said, “Oh, simple. Any member ready to speak with another need not do anything other than to pick the mirror, call the name of the one he would like to speak with. I bet you, the urge will come on such to pick up the mirror instantly. Communication begins from there.”
“Wow!” Henry exclaimed. “I’ve been so foolish to have said I’m not using it.”
“Maybe,” said Ted hilariously, giggling, but discovered that Henry was not in a good mood. He asked Henry what was wrong and the latter explained—the ‘Susie-Dean’ issue.
Ted felt sorry for Henry and assured him that the Professor’s punishment was not going to be unbearable.
Henry entered the dean’s office.
Henry came out perplexed. It was his turn to have the kind of eyes Susie was carrying earlier—misty eyes. But this time there was no drizzle from the sky, even after a drop of tear had torn itself apart from the whole mass of the salty fluid being secreted from the lachrymal gland of Henry’s left eye. The tear ran down his cheek, into his mouth and subconsciously Henry licked it.
Henry now had with him a pile of books, numbering up to twelve, each having some copious amounts of pages. He had entered with none, but had come out with twelve. Silently Henry recalled in his mind the event that had led to that:
“Welcome Henry,” said the dean. “Here’s your punishment…”
“Sir, I can explain.”
“No explanation dudes. Nothing’s going to lift your punishment off you.”
“I never tell anybody.”
“Got no time for folktales. Yesterday’s gone, can never be mended—we’d better face the present, and—the future. Listen carefully now…to your punishment…”
“You’re not going to punish an innocent soul, are you?”
“Not at all,” said the man. “But I’ll punish the guilty you.”
“Sir,” said Henry. He was going to try this last time, perhaps he could be lucky to escape the looming retribution that was soon to be meted out on him. “I didn’t tell anybody…but I told…”
“Who?”
“Nobody.”
“Ssh!” said the man. “You’ve said this before, and it’s a lie for God’s sake. You told Susie, didn’t you?”
“I’ll explain. You said I shouldn’t tell anybody, to me Susie was a ‘nobody’ and I told her. I didn’t tell anybody,” deduced Henry, not sure if his foxy skill would suffice to win the dean over. The man replied immediately, “To me Susie can just be anybody, I said don’t tell anybody but you told Susie—anybody.” Henry succumbed. The dean won.
“Listen—I’m delivering a seminar on Nuclear Physics in eleven days time. Henry, competent Professors worldwide are presenting same topic, but Henry—I want to win the prize. I’ve spent less time preparing, because I’ve also got two more seminars to deliver on other disciplines.”
“Wow!” screamed Henry.
“See, winning may bring me much fame and—I need it. I guess it’s the reason I’m alive today—get whatever I can get and fade away.” He budged to the shelf, took out a huge textbook and handed it to Henry. As if that was not enough, the man lingered on before the shelf, taking more and more of such kind of book out of the same shelf and saying, “Take this… and this… and this” as he handed them to Henry one after the other. He stopped at the twelfth, when Henry was strained already, more than his ‘elastic limit’.
“Henry, trust me, I’m not going to ask you to memorize everything inside there at once. Trust me.”
Hearing such allayed Henry’s fear. He was already nursing the feeling that the dean was going to ask him to read all at once and tell him everything inside them verbatim before the dean had said otherwise.
“Don’t panic. Just go through ’em all, prepare for me an award-winning synopsis for the seminar. Seven days to do this Henry, else…” The man paused deliberately.
“Seven days?”
“Yeah,” re-affirmed the dean.
“I can’t,” Henry rebuffed acutely. “It’s Impossible!”
“You can do it Henry. You’re a genius…” The dean saw him shuddering. “Listen boy, it’s a must for you to do it, else…”
“Else what?” asked Henry, petrified with fear.
“Else…” repeated the man, “something’ll happen to you”.
“I won’t,” Henry said obdurately.
“You’ve got no choice boy. Remember it’s a punishment—for your trespass. So go on, do it.”
Henry had plodded out of the dean’s office, engrossed in the seemingly onerous task ahead of him. He blamed everything on his joining the occult world.
“If I hadn’t joined, I wouldn’t have been asked not to tell anybody and…that sphinx wouldn’t have had anything to divulge to the dean concerning me.” Looking ahead instantly, he saw the so-called ‘sphinx’ distances away, coming towards his direction. The urge descended on him immediately to demo his yet unproved magical power by using it on her, but his attention was diverted instantly, having been snapped by some unknown persons, with some sophisticated cameras they had adventitiously carried with them.
“Shit!” Henry screamed when he saw the snappers scurry away, chortling hilariously. They were bevy of ladies, whose intention was unknown; perhaps they had been intrigued by the sight of Henry bearing twelve humongous textbooks and they had felt like having the scene preserved in a permanent format for easy reference.
Henry made a surreptitious move, but Susie, being eagle-eyed, had seen him already with her bulgy frog-like eyes. Behind her was Ted Manuel, both walking toward him. Well at eyeshot, Henry could see them vividly. Susie’s face was gloomy and wet with tears as it had been earlier that morning. Henry was baffled.
“I’m very sorry,” she said penitently, sobbing silently. Henry’s heart melted instantly, observing her display.
“Sorry for what, Susie?” asked Henry, raising some speculative eyebrows.
“I caused it all,” she said, pointing to the books Henry’s hands were laden with. “All you went through,” she added.
“I’ve not told you I went through anything,” said Henry.
“I’m sure this is the Professor’s retribution for my action. He told me that he was going to give you the most impossible task on earth. What are these for?” she said, touching the books being piled up on top of Henry’s adjoined palms.
“Never mind,” Henry replied imperviously. “Just let me be.” At that juncture Ted barged in, having been mute all the while. Ted said, “Henry, Susie’s regretting her action now. She told me that she was wrong; that the dean had confessed to her that you both really had appointment yesterday—”
“But it was suspended eventually,” said Susie, interrupting Ted to speak for herself. “I’m sorry for everything,” she said once more.

Story Continuation....


At the middle of the night, the urge came; the urge to look into the mirror.
“Why should I?” Henry questioned himself, not having sensed the need for it. He tried very hard to restrain the strange urge, but he seemed not strong enough to do that. Rising up, he moaned. “Ted said I’ll make use of it—rubbish. I’ve got to prove him wrong because he mustn’t win me again this time.”
Henry wouldn’t want to be at the losing end of any argument. He was always on the winning side and would do anything to see his ego inflated.”
“I’ll get Cynthia without the magic,” he thought, pacing to and fro. He stopped pacing as he moved toward his wardrobe. He turned the knob and took out the mirror. Glancing at it rapidly, he saw Ted.
“Hey little clairvoyant,” said Ted’s image in the mirror, in an amusing manner. “Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!” Ted guffawed.
Henry blushed with shame. In a swoop he had lifted the mirror above his head, about to smash it on the floor. He heard Ted shout, “Don’t smash me!” and off he went. The Professor’s image came up in it immediately, as though it had displaced Ted’s, but in the actual sense it was a coincidence. The fatherly voice Henry did hear made him look up into the mirror he was lifting above his head.
“Henry G, I said don’t tell anybody, you told Susie. You got amnesia?” the dean yelled out from the mirror immediately. Henry’s lips failed to give the answer, his tongue having not received suitable message from the brain. “Come for your punishment—” said the dean, “tomorrow, in my office, 10 a.m. Be sure your retribution’s going to be terrible—for committing such large trespass. Bye-bye.” He vamoosed.
Henry’s condition was far more exacerbated, having thought that he had heard the word “bad-bye”. No sleep until morning!