Chapter 3: Online Fire and Ashawo Graffiti

Seats dey arranged by grades. If we talk true, e no suppose be me wey go give up seat.

As per say I work hard for my book, nobody go carry my position just like that. If na Naija home, dem for talk say, 'everybody get im level.'

So I smile back.

No fear, my smile carry pepper. Na that kain smile wey dey say, 'Try am.'

“My classmate, your name dey for this seat?”

I raise my eyebrow join, make e pepper well. Everybody for class dey catch the sub.

Halima face change sharp-sharp.

She no fit hide am. Her nose flare, her lips tight. If to say na fight, she for don throw blow.

That day, form teacher no come school. The next teacher try settle matter, carry Halima go one side.

The teacher na one kind woman, always dey drink malt. She sigh, drag Halima comot, say make dem no disgrace her for staff room.

“Just pick any empty seat first. When your form teacher come back, we go talk about seat.”

Her voice gentle, but e carry warning for bottom.

Halima look me bad eye. “No wahala, you get mind.”

The way she talk am, e be like curse. For her mind, she no gree let the matter rest. I just lock up, hold my book tight.

Early next morning, one classmate block me as I dey go school. “Ijeoma, your matter dey confession wall! Go check am!”

Na so gist dey spread for our school. If your matter enter wall, your village people don remember you.

I open my phone, dey confused. True-true, my picture dey on top, everybody dey talk.

I dey sweat, my hand dey shake, but I still dey scroll. I wan know wetin dem talk.

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

Na the same question wey dem dey repeat. E be like say I carry bad market for head.

For the picture, me and Kamsiyochukwu dey do maths group work, our heads close as we dey try solve one hard question. But the post talk am like say something dey happen.

If person no know, e go believe say na true. Gossip for Naija dey spread like harmattan fire.

The comment section dey hot:

People dey type as if dem no get work. Some even dey use fake name, dey yarn opata.

“Ah, no be Ijeoma, goddess of SS3A? She dey always form, now she stick to the top student?”

Na wah o! Person go dey on her own, dem go dey call am goddess. The gist dey sweet dem like jollof rice.

“So na why she dey reject all love letters. Na only the guy wey get number one dey her eye. E don finish.”

E shock me. I never even collect valentine card before. See as people dey paint my matter black.

“The top student no dey date anybody. Poster, he talk am say final year serious—he no go let babe distract am.”

See analysis. If dem use this energy do WAEC, dem for don pass with A1.

“So na she dey chase am o~~”

Na so dem dey yarn. If dem see two people close, na to carry gist go market.

Anonymous people full the confession wall, everybody dey argue. For school, some dey borrow each other data or rush school internet café, just to drop hot comment.

Everybody get mouth online, but for school, na only few fit talk face to face. The air for class that day heavy.

As I enter class, I see fresh black mark on my desk—one big ‘ashawo’.

The thing pain me pass the way pepper dey pain for eye. I drag my chair back, my hand dey tremble as I touch the mark, the chalk dust stain my fingers white—like say the word wan follow me home.

No plenty students dey that early. Na only Halima dey look me, wicked smile for her face.

She dey tap her finger for table, her eyes dey shine like person wey see money for ground.

“You don blow now, superstar.”

Her voice dey loud, e dey mock me. Everybody pretend say dem no hear.

She look my desk as she dey blow watermelon bubble gum.

The sound dey sharp, the smell dey spread reach my nose. She just dey enjoy the show.

“Who write this sabi write o.”

She dey laugh small, as if the matter dey sweet her.

She act like she dey look the whole class, then bend near me, voice low:

Na whisper, but I still hear am clear. E cold like harmattan breeze.

“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 nod her head as if she dey say true true. My chest just dey heavy. I no fit even shout.

So I begin cry. Right there, for everybody to see.

The tears just rush me, no matter how I try hold am. My eye red, my nose dey run. For that moment, I no fit pretend strong.

Just before form teacher waka enter—

The whole class dey quiet, tension hang for air. My tears never dry, but I still try compose. Somebody cough awkwardly, fly buzz pass again. E be like everybody dey hold breath.

Halima face red like tomato.

E shock her say I cry. E be like say she no plan reach this level. Her face dey twist, e dey show small fear.

“Which kind rubbish you dey talk?!”

Her voice high, e break. For Naija, tears dey humble person quick. Even she shock for her own mouth.