Chapter 1: Wahala Landed On My Desk

The day after the new student transferred, my picture landed on the confession wall.

Just imagine, of all people, na my own face waka enter that kain place. As if my wahala for life never reach. The sun never even set finish for the day before I see my face dey fly for that online wall, like say I be Nollywood actress.

[Confession wall: an anonymous online board where students drop confessions, gossip, or rumours.]

E get as the confession wall dey hot, people go just drop anything—no shame, no filter. Everybody dey fear say e fit be their turn tomorrow, but as e reach my side, my chest just tight. That kain thing dey enter person body like pepper soup wey get extra pepper.

“Abeg, this girl dey date the top student? Why she dey always follow the academic star everywhere? E too much.”

Dem no even let person get peace. All because I dey do my own, wahala come land me.

Because of all the talk, somebody come write one big ‘ashawo’ on my desk.

I just dey look am, my hand dey shake as I touch the mark, the chalk dust stain my fingers white—like say the word wan follow me home. That word carry weight for Naija, no be small. E pain me reach bone.

Nobody sabi who do am.

Everybody dey form like say dem no see anything. I look left, I look right. Na only silence waka cross my path. Somebody cough small, awkward. Fly buzz pass my ear. The air just heavy, like say even breeze dey fear.

But the transfer student just dey look me, her smile dey proud.

She just dey chew gum like say she win lottery, her eyes dey shine, e be like she dey watch Super Story, when dem freeze frame before advert.

“You understand now? This seat na my own. Kamsiyochukwu na my own too. Na me get am, abeg—no put eye where hand no reach.”

She talk am with bold voice, no fear, her accent mix small northern flavour, make the thing even loud for class.

“And so is the academic star.”

She waka commot with her shoulder high, like say she dey for beauty pageant.