Chapter 2: Mock Result Wahala and Broken Promises

The day mock exam result come out, my position for grade move from number five to number three.

Everybody dey squeeze body, some dey tiptoe just to see their name for notice board. My heart dey beat like talking drum. Some girls dey group for corner dey gist, their eyes dey dance from name to name, and one boy just dey whistle azonto tune. Me, I just bite my lip, try humble myself. For Naija, if you too show yourself, dem go call you proud.

But Hauwa Bello drop from number twenty to below thirty.

I see Hauwa shadow for corridor, she dey hold her paper tight, face squeezed like she chop bitterleaf. She dey always carry herself like say she no fit fail. For her, e be like say rain beat her pride scatter.

People dey whisper:

"Why Hauwa Bello result drop like that? And Zainab climb go up again."

Dem talk am low, but my side dey pick every word. Kaduna people sabi gossip pass morning market. I see am for their eye—dem dey wonder whether na me make her fail, or if e get another wahala wey dem no sabi.

Hauwa Bello eye just red as she look me.

Her eyes dey like pepper water, her voice dey tremble small but stubborn. She grip her exercise book so tight, her knuckles white. That kain eye, you go know say trouble fit land anytime.

Hauwa bite her lip, eye dey shine with tears, then she burst: "Zainab, you happy now abi? You dey read book everyday just to make people think say Sani Garba get bad eye to choose me, no be so?"

Her voice sharp, e bite me deep. Other girls look away, one or two shake head. My own mouth just heavy. For Naija, person fit talk wetin dey her mind without filter when wahala dey boil for belle.

As she talk finish, she run comot from class. Even when bell ring, she no come back.

I watch her back disappear for corridor, her slippers dey slap the tiles. Even the class teacher look confused, the kind confusion wey you dey see for exam hall when question hard.

Teacher wey confuse call me, as class prefect, make I go find Hauwa Bello.

The teacher voice dey soft, almost like prayer: "Zainab, you sabi Hauwa well. Abeg, help me find am—my spirit no go rest." For my heart, I dey fear small—Hauwa dey vex, she fit do anything.

After about thirty minutes,

I dey waka round school, sun dey bite my neck. I hear basketball bounce, so I look go that side. Palm trees dey wave for breeze, and I spot her shadow for flowerbed.

I see Hauwa Bello dey sit for flowerbed beside basketball court. Opposite her na Sani Garba, he bend down dey try pet her with soft voice.

Sani Garba dey talk with him hands, him face close to Hauwa own. She dey wipe her eye, but she dey nod. For that moment, dem two just dey their own world, like say nobody else dey.

I no hear wetin Sani Garba talk, but Hauwa Bello begin smile inside her tears.

The way Hauwa tears dey dry small small, I sabi say Sani Garba sabi talk sweet. Him voice dey low, e dey touch her shoulder small small, the kind way you go pet pikin wey wound.

Sunlight just dey shine through the baobab tree, fall for both of them like film wey dem dey act for campus.

The breeze dey carry small petals for air. The moment gentle, but for my chest, e dey pain—na that kain scene wey fit fit for Hausa movie soundtrack. My own wahala just dey background like extra.