I took the last bite of my jam-filled doughnut and threw the wax paper into the nearest bin.

Kenny was talking my ear off about how much she missed her phone and animes.

I nodded, sharing the same sentiment. I missed my telenovelas and I hated the fact that I was always stuck on this endless game of catch-up no thanks to school.

We reached the hallway to our class but instead of entering our class Kenny continued on.

She didn't take two steps before she realized that I wasn't following and turned to look for me.

“What's wrong?” she asked, putting her hand on her hip. The school uniform looked particularly good on Kenny because she had long legs which today were covered in knee-high black socks.

“I could ask you. You said we're going to class,” I pointed at the door where voices emanated from. “This is class.”

“Yes, but I need to borrow Telemi's Economics textbook. Follow me.”

Alarm bells went off in my head. Going with Kenny to SS2 Arts and Humanities would mean a potential encounter with the last person I wanted — no needed, because I really wanted to know how he was doing — to see right now.

So I tried to convince Kenny not to go even though I knew I had a better chance of scaling Mount Everest in one jump than I had of changing Kenny's mind.

“Do you really need it? You know it's going to end with you arguing with Sylvanus this early mo mo, right?”

“Yes, I need it, and it's not my fault the boy is foolish. You know that.”

I hesitated and she caught on to it.

“What's this really about? Did Teni say something hurtful again because if she did I swear to God almighty . . .”

I quickly stopped her before her legendary anger showed its face. “No, of course not. I can handle Teni, it's just . . .”

She waited patiently for me to finish but I wasn't going to. How was I going to justify staying away from that class without sounding like an immature goody-two-shoes?

I decided there was no way and instead opted to end this here.

“I'm not going with you, I'm sorry.”

And with that, I entered the class leaving Kenny in the hallway.

Well, there goes trying to keep Kenny from killing Sylvanus.

Inside the class, there were only a handful of students as everyone was still at breakfast.

Clutching my now lukewarm tea, I made my way down the middle row to my seat at the back.

The classrooms had three rows of blue chairs with attached desks. The chairs came in pairs so I had to share my desk with someone else.

“Our wife!” came a voice from the alcove fitted with shelves for bags that no one ever used because we preferred hanging them at the back of our chairs where we could keep an eye on our properties.

The voice belonged to none other than Ramiu Adeleke with his flattop and mischievous grin.

“Whose wife?” I asked as I dumped my bag on my chair and went over to where he was seated.

Seeing as how he was a headache to all the teachers, he had a single seat at the farthest end of the class where he couldn't bother a single person. But honestly, that was probably the worst idea anyone could have because now he bothered the entire class.

Getting to his seat I found him with two notes open. Peering closer I realized he was copying the maths assignment from yesterday.

“Is it Adenike's maths you're coping this early morning? It's pity I pity you.”

He flailed his hands. “Well, what can I do? We all do what we can to avoid prison. Do you think he won't come today?”

“Stay there and be deceiving yourself,” I clapped him on the shoulder and went back to my seat, passing Joyce and Rukayat who seemed engrossed in whatever they were working on because no one comes to class early unless they wanted to copy or read.

After hanging my bag behind the seat I sat down and took a sip of my tea from the spillproof cover. I winced at the fact that it was cold now and Kenny had gone overboard with the sugar — just how I liked it.

Setting the cup at my feet I got out my books again and rubbed my face.

“Our wife, borrow me your computer note na?”

I eyed Ramiu and hissed. “Stop calling me that, biko.”

“You are our wife oh. Hundred yards wife mate. . .”

I didn't let him finish before I threw my blue Bic at him. Despite my shortsightedness, I had excellent hand-to-eye coordination and my pen caught him square in the middle of his forehead.

“Ow!” He let out and clutched his face.

“You can have that,” I said just as Joyce let out a titter.

Rukayat stuck her tongue at him. “Good for you, next time you will think twice before you say anything.”

I got out my pink pencil case and took a new pen.

Getting back to my books I couldn't wait for classes to start so that Kenny would come back and I could try and apologize.

Soon the class started to fill with the noise of the remaining thirteen students that completed SS2 Science.

I didn't notice the seat beside me wasn't empty anymore until the person sneezed.

“Hey!” I said to the small figure of my seatmate.

Nma smiled. “Hey. You seemed to be in one of your famous trances so I just left you alone.”

“I'm sorry, I was just waiting for Kenny.”

She nodded and focused on the novel she was reading. One of the reasons I liked Nma Richardson was that she used words sparingly and was extremely reserved. She wasn't chatty like the rest and after being seatmates with talkative Kenny for four years, she was a breath of fresh air.

The siren sounded and Richard replied “free period, bitch”.

It wasn't a free period in reality. We had Creative Art now but since I was the only one that took it, it was considered a free period for noisemaking by the rest of the students.

“Don't you have CA now?” Nma asked, her curved eyebrows furrowing.

“I do,” I looked around but it seemed Kenny would be spending this period in Arts and Humanities.

I sighed and packed my books back in. Creative Art was another favorite subject of mine and I tried to remember that I would be painting very soon so that I didn't start sulking again.

Throwing my bag over my shoulder I stood up and after fist-bumping Ifeanyi who sat at the front, I left class and headed to the Administrative Building.

The Art Workshop was at the back of the building and as I entered I was filled with peace at the familiar smell of paint and wood.

The Workshop had high walls that were decorated with the best painting made by the students. It mostly consisted of junior students' works because Creative Arts was compulsory for them and a few of mine. Since CA wasn't compulsory for Seniors I could count on one hand how many took it. Including me.

Tucked in a corner in the back was the Art teacher's desk and chair which competed for space with the huge painting of the school done by a past student. It was what occupied the space before my mermaid painting went up.

Behind the desk balancing a plate of white rice and beans was Mr. Salami, the Art teacher.

“Amarachi!” He said with a full mouth. “Right on time.”

“Did you expect anything less?” I teased and dumped my bag on one of the long tables that ran along the right and left walls that was cluttered with art supplies, half-finished — and no doubt abandoned — mosaics and whose true colour was long ago buried under layers of paint, glue, and newspapers.

The rustle of the leaves of the tree outside was occasionally interrupted by the creak of the rotating standing fan, which was unnecessary in my opinion because the natural air was more than enough.

I skipped through the rows of brown stools and plopped on the chair opposite Mr. Salami's desk.

He just eyed me and dug his spoon into the boiled egg.

Mr. Salami was the youngest on the teaching staff and a welcome break from the old, stuffy men and women that usually taught us. Since I was the only one he taught sometimes we'd go off-topic, and on one of those occasions I'd found out his name was James, he was twenty-nine and he'd seen the Mona Lisa.

“How are you eating white rice without stew?” I asked and scrunched my face.

“Are you joking? That thing is too peppery for me. I'm good.”

“Kenny is angry with me,” I pouted. He knew very well of my frequent fights with Kenny.

He stroked his goatee. “What did you do this time?”

“It's not my fault, I was ready to apologize but she didn't come back.”

I sighed and remembered I needed to pick up some paints and spare brushes from the bookshop.

“You don't mind if I go get a couple of things, do you?”

“Well, I'm a little occupied here myself,” he gestured to his half-finished food.

I giggled and started the short walk to the bookshop.

It had a giant sign above the door that said ‘Welcome to the Bookshop’.

The door was already open and I entered. The bookshop was where we got all our supplies, from notebooks to sanitary pads, this was basically our supermarket.

It was divided into two sections. The outer part held everything aside from textbooks which were stored in the inner room.

Mr. Peter — we usually called him Dark Mr. Peter to differentiate between him and the Principal's secretary — who manned the bookshop and whose desk was opposite the door was nowhere to be found and I was disappointed because I needed my supplies.

I reached his desk and leaned on it to wait for him.

“I don't think he'll be back very soon,” came an accented voice that stilled my being.

I turned toward the voice and leaning on the doorjamb to the inner room was the last person I wanted to see today.

He was wearing a black hoodie with the words ‘Notice Me’ in hot pink that wasn't school-issued and against the rules over his uniform.

Well, there goes my streak. God! Today is not my day.

“I guess I'll have to come back,” I told Daniel and made to leave.

“I know you've been avoiding me,” he said in an accusatory tone that made me freeze. “Why is what I can't figure out.”

I folded my arms and addressed him. “I have not been avoiding you. That's ridiculous! I've been busy.”

Daniel just raised an eyebrow. His eyes bored into me and suddenly I felt uncomfortable with my not-so-good lie.

“I have to go,” I finally said before his eyes ate me alive.

As I turned my back to leave I heard him sigh.

“I didn't set my Principal's car on fire. It was my friend, Marge. Principal Brown gave her detention for something she didn't do and she lashed out and set his car on fire. But you have to understand, she was on her last strike with her foster parents, one more and . . .” He paused and ran his long fingers through his thick, curly hair.

I stopped in my tracks.

“God knows what they would've done to punish her. Marge is — was — my best girl friend so I figured if I took the blame it would blow over faster. What I didn't count on was Principal Ass expelling me and my father freaking out and shipping me down here for an offense he very well knows is nothing compared to what I can actually do if I set my mind to it.”

I shrugged at him. “So? It really is none of my business.”

“But that's why you've been avoiding me, right?”

He moved forward and occupied the black leather chair behind the desk.

I had no words to counter that.

He nodded. “I should've figured it out sooner. But now you know the truth.”

“I thought you swore an oath?”

“Yeah, but I don't see how Marge can know I broke it from two hundred miles away.”

He smirked and interlocked his fingers.

“You must like this Marge if you're willing to take the blame for something you didn't do,” I said offhandedly.

“Yeah, Margaret is alright. But she's also back in Florida and is no help to me here. Which is why I told you the truth because I need your help.”

“You can find someone else to help you. Kenny and Sylvanus are there.”

I honestly had no idea why I was giving him a hard time but something about the fact that he decided to take the fall for this random girl I'd never met rubbed me the wrong way.

“Kenny gives me the creeps and Sylvanus has a strange name. You're the only sane person I've met so far.”

“You know you just insulted both of my best friends in one sentence, right? And you're the one that wants my help.”

He sighed. “I am losing my shit here. There are so many things in this place that I don't understand. The food, that wack accent y'all seem to have that I don't get . . .”

“Hian! What accent?”

“That one. My point is, I need as many friends as I can get if I want to survive here. Besides, you can't just tell me to find reasons to stay and just abandon me, it's not fair.”

His pleadings were getting to my head and I knew it was only a matter of time before I was swayed.

He pouted and blinked those long eyelashes of his. “Pretty please, with a cherry on top?”

That was all it took to convince me. Clearly that Marge or Margaret or whatever her name is was not a very good influence on him and a theory began to form in my mind.

Maybe if I helped him I could turn him away from trouble so he doesn't get expelled again. Because if I left him to his own devices, he wouldn't last long in this school.

“Fine,” I agreed. “What do you need help with?”

I tried to forget the blinding smile his face broke into as he produced a piece of paper and set it on the table.

“Ok, so these are the textbooks I apparently need and I've been trying all morning to find them in there but I've had zero luck.”

I took the paper and nodded to the next room. “Come on.”

I passed a few shelves that held extra sweaters and socks and entered the next room.

The smell of old books and new clothes reached me as I entered.

Six shelves stood around the room like imposing bodyguards blocking the light with their shape.

“First of all, how are you even seeing inside here?” I asked as I searched the wall for the light switch.

“It's not that dark,” he defended as I found the switch and pressed it.

The whole room flooded with white light and the spines of the books were now visible. Tucked in one corner was a rack of black blazers that was part of the school's formal wear.

“Ok, let's see,” I scanned the paper and adjusted my glasses. I had never seen any of these textbooks before.

History of Nigerian Politics, An In-depth Analysis of the Old Testament, Hamlet . . . Na wa! Art and Humanities people are trying oh! Well, at least I recognize one of these books.

“I've been looking for them but I don't think they're here,” he gestured towards a shelf.

“Well, there's your problem. You're looking in the SS1 shelf, dullard.”

He stepped back and let out an ‘oh!’.

I rolled my eyes and led him to the right shelf.

Within minutes I browsed through the Physics and Biology textbooks and found all the books on the list.

As I grabbed Hamlet off the shelf I studied it a minute. It brought back memories of Senior Agatha lending me her copy and sneaking off in the middle of the night to the Quad to read it.

“I'm guessing Hamlet is your favorite Shakespearean play?” Daniel asked from his place on the floor where he was stacking up his new, thick textbooks.

“Nope,” I handed it to him and joined him on the floor.

“Romeo and Juliet then?”

“The Merchant of Venice,” I said proudly.

“No way! I'd read you to be the kind of girl that likes romance with lots of kissing.”

I gasped. “How dare you? For your information, I am the kind of girl that likes historical romance with lots of kissing and the occasional devilish rake.”

“God no!” He squeezed his face.

“Hey don't judge! Where did you get the hoodie this time? Your little sister?”

He laughed. “I wish. I love pink, how 'bout you?”

“Hard pass. You do realize if Mr. Eze sees that, he'll seize it so fast you'll get whiplash, right?”

“It's ok, I've got a suitcase full of 'em.” He winked.

I tried to pretend that the wink didn't do something to my soul as I stood up.

“Well, glad I could help but I have a class to get to.”

I dusted the back of my skirt.

“What are you talking about? The timetable says we're free now.”

“The timetable says we have Creative Art and I'm the only one taking Creative Art, so ciao!”

“What about what you came to get?” He stood up and tried to balance all the books in one stack. One book fell from it and I caught it before it could hit the ground.

“Be careful! Books are precious!”

“Sorry, ma'am.”

“You'll just have to wait for Mr. Peter so he can help you arrange them.”

I balanced the textbook on his head, tapped his cheek, and left.

Heading back to my class I found that Mr. Salami had finished his breakfast, written the scheme of work on the board, and was now busy with his phone.

“Got what you went for?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Not really.”

“Well then write down the scheme of work and we'll get started.”

I nodded, took a seat, and as I was getting out a fresh notebook trouble personified walked through the door.

I looked back at Mr. Salami and he seemed as confused as me because no one ever came up here during their free period.

“I'm taking Creative Art,” Daniel announced with a smirk.

Good God!