Chapter 4: Assembly Wahala

3

“Abeg, stop!”

“I no go do am again!”

Her mouth full of blood, words no dey clear.

But me, as dem don label me mad person, why I go stop?

I grab her hair, knock her head for toilet wall.

Kpa! The sound sweet me die.

Her face dey cry, teeth don commot.

She wan spit am out.

I hold her mouth, my eyes red: “Swallow am! No be you dey force people chop rubbish before? Swallow!”

Rashidat na real bully.

She don force students chop hair, drink soapy water, lick shoe mud…

Just this term, two people don drop out because of her.

Even history teacher wey talk to them, dem break three of his ribs after school.

After that, nobody fit talk for their matter again.

Discipline master just dey look away.

As long as dem no disturb the ‘good’ students, e be like nothing happen.

If all the ‘bad’ students drop out, e go make school look better for government eye.

“Stop!”

One loud shout.

I turn, see form mistress.

She reach the same time as last time.

But this time, na me dey beat person.

“Kunle, wetin you dey do?!”

She waka enter with high heel, dey do as if she holy pass.

“Madam, abeg, I dey busy. You no see?”

I answer her with vex. I see say Rashidat never swallow her teeth, my anger rise again.

Gulp—

Her throat move.

Na that time I leave am.

The sound of madam high heel for the tile na real wahala alarm. For her face, I see surprise, but the kain surprise wey person get when dem catch thief for market, not pity. My own vex dey boil reach neck, but I control am. For this life, na patience be second power after pepper.

4

Rashidat head full of blood, she don dey faint.

Form mistress fear, scream, run go call ambulance.

If person see her, dem go think she be good teacher.

But for this same place for my last life, Rashidat and her crew break my leg, stuff soap for my mouth, I limp commot from girls’ toilet.

Teacher see me, she no ask wetin happen—she just blame me.

I talk say dem beat me.

She say na because I dey peep, so I deserve am.

Now I understand.

E mean say teacher fit handle wahala, she just no wan help me.

Ambulance reach sharp sharp.

Dem carry Rashidat for stretcher, students gather.

“Wetin happen?!”

“No be Rashidat be that?”

“Who beat am like that? Na my hero be that o! I go call am my godfather!”

“She deserve am! I always talk say her own go reach one day!”

…

As I hear their voice, I smile.

“You get mind dey smile?”

Form mistress look me like say I be rubbish. “Go stand for corridor. When next class finish, na assembly time, I go call you.”

My face cold.

Last time, after dem beat me, she drag me for ear go stage for assembly.

Now, after I fight back, she still wan shame me for everybody.

“No wahala.”

I grit my teeth.

If I no wait for assembly, how the whole school go hear my achievement?

Especially that discipline master.

Before, na every week he go drag me go stage insult me.

I dey dream to beat am for that stage.

Before, na just dream.

But now, I get over ten years experience as confirmed madman.

Wetin remain wey I go fear?

The corridor hot with noise. Junior students dey peep me from window, dey whisper, dey look me like say I be Nollywood villain. Sun dey shine through louver, cut my shadow short. My uniform tear for elbow, blood mark for my wrist. But the inside of my chest cold—na the kind cold wey person get after big rain. One junior boy even raise hand, shout, "Kunle for president!" before hin friend hush am. I rub my chest, dey wait my turn for assembly stage, dey plan how I go show them say Kunle na correct person. One small boy mutter, "Na witchcraft dey worry am," but e quick hide face.