Chapter 1: The Weight of Guilt

I do something terrible back when I dey junior secondary school.

Anytime I close eye think am, e be like say cold hand dey squeeze my chest, no let me breathe. That year, I no even feel am—self, I dey thank God say nobody catch me. I go waka for corridor dey shine teeth, dey form sharp guy. But when the real truth land for my mind, the thing pain me reach my bone, my spirit just dey turn like say person dey fry am for inside body. Sometimes, I go dey beg make ground swallow me, make I just disappear like smoke for harmattan morning.

Person wey wicked and shameless like me, na straight to hell be my portion. For night, I dey kneel for ground, dey pray, dey beg God make e forgive me, even though I never fit forgive myself. The guilt still dey my chest like stubborn yam wey no gree cook.

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For junior secondary, people dey see me as better student. My results no too shine, but I dey steady, I get sense pass most boys my age. Compared to those my mates wey still dey behave like pikin, I dey act mature.

If wahala dey, na me dey settle am. Boys dey run come meet me, girls dey borrow my note. Sometimes, dem dey call me 'old man' for class because of how I sabi comport myself, dey speak English well when teacher dey hear, dey switch to pidgin when e go make boys laugh.

Because I sabi relate with people, I dey flow well with my classmates. Dem dey see me as person wey you fit rely on; even teachers dey talk say I get manners. Some even dey call me 'gentleman' for staff room, say I sabi greet elders, no dey join boys dey make noise for corridor.

But na only me know say all these things na serious work I dey do. As I dey shine for outside, na so my mind dey restless for inside.

The truth be say, I no dey as calm as I dey look. My mind dey dark, sometimes I dey get bad thoughts. Since primary school, I don learn how to smoke and dodge class. I fit hide behind shop for corner, dey puff small Benson, dey look all these ajebo children dey run for break time, dey laugh for my mind.

When I enter junior secondary, I tell myself say I go start afresh, so I begin act like good student. I change my level—no more rough play. My papa dey always talk say new school, new reputation. I carry am for head.

But last last, everything scatter. Na so life be sometimes. You fit try package yourself, but e get as e go be, the real you go still show.

Everything start for my second year of junior secondary. That was the year wey my story begin bend like okro soup.