Framed, Shamed, and Reborn for Revenge / Chapter 2: Beat Am Well
Framed, Shamed, and Reborn for Revenge

Framed, Shamed, and Reborn for Revenge

Author: Kenneth Kelley


Chapter 2: Beat Am Well

1

Beat Am Well

Thief.

My head knock tile, gbosa. The wicked laugh of those girls just dey ring for my ear.

“See as e resemble maggot.”

One white sneaker press my hand.

I curl for one dirty, wet corner, my head dey pain me like say small hammer dey knock am.

All the pain wey I feel before, na im I dey feel again.

Na there I know say this one no be dream.

My school uniform dey stick to my skin, soaked with sweat and small blood. My socks don brown from toilet water, even my school bag for one side, forgotten. The kind eye wey those girls dey take look me, e go make devil sef fear.

Na so one soap bar appear for my face.

I raise my head small, see those faces wey I hate pass for this life.

For my former life, I dey wish make I fit tear their body.

Dem talk say na for ‘justice’ sake, but na lie—dem just like to beat person for fun.

Ah—

All the anger wey I dey hide burst out. I vex, carry the soap, throw am straight for the leader face.

Gbosa! The soap jam her eye, she stagger, her eye don swell black.

Before she fit do anything, I rush her like madman.

Her name na Rashidat.

No look say she be girl o, this one na real agbero, dey follow street boys for outside, na her dey run things for school.

People for outside even call her Rashidat Agbako—‘Big Wahala Rashidat.’ (Dem dey use her name play, say she be big madam.)

Before, all of us dey fear am. But today? Abeg, I no send.

I lift my hand, land am for her face.

Everybody for toilet na girls.

But as I vex, even if na five of them, dem no fit hold me.

For student fight, na the leader dey matter. The rest na just backup.

That moment, na only Rashidat dey my front. No matter how dem drag me, I just dey beat am.

One hand hold her collar, the other dey land blow for her head.

Blow upon blow, as if I dey pound yam. Toilet tile cold for my knee, but my body hot like pepper soup.

Even the tile for floor dey vibrate with each punch. One girl try shout, but her voice quench inside toilet smell. The place hot, the whole wahala dey choke like Lagos traffic for rainy season.

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