Chapter 1: The Questionnaire Wahala

The ceiling fan dey groan overhead, but sweat still dey drip for my back. Somebody dey chew groundnut loud for back, but nobody talk. The night before WAEC, tension thick like fufu on Sunday morning just choke everywhere. Our whole class just dey look each other, eye wide, dey wonder if na teacher prank or another principal wahala be this. We never settle finish when Tolu, our class captain, waka enter with one k-leg face, clutching printed questionnaires like say e dey carry hot yam wey burn hand.

As long as you expose a classmate’s secret or scandal, you fit get extra marks for your WAEC.

The line just land for the paper like thunder for dry season. Some people burst laugh, some hiss, but everybody eyes begin shine one kain.

Agree / Refuse.

I just reason say na prank, so I wan choose ‘Refuse’—

But my eye catch my mama old WAEC photo for the corner of my locker. I pause, swallow spit, mutter small prayer under my breath. Before I fit decide, na so bullet comments begin show for everywhere around me.

The bullet comments flash for my mind—sharp, fast, no mercy:

[See as this supporting babe dey dull. Na only she dey form madam for class, and first day, dem vote am commot.]

[Later, even her childhood padi go expose am say she follow one street guy enter cheap guest house, all because she wan help one broke student.]

[She just use her own hand scatter better life. If na me, I for don hook that big oga since.]

[Tsk tsk, if only she sabi from day one say na her stubborn seatmate dey run this questionnaire wahala. E for sweet.]

My heart start dey beat like drum for new yam festival as the comments pour in. For Naija, if gist like this land, e dey spread pass harmattan fire. But these ones just dey pop for my mind, as if dem dey float for inside classroom air, invisible but sharp.

I sharply look my deskmate.

Him thick fringe cover him eyes, only him pale chin dey show. E just tilt head give me one kind sickly smile.

"So, you go choose agree or you go refuse?"

"I sabi everybody secret for this class."

The way he talk am, e be like all those home video actors—calm but with wahala inside. I shift small for seat. As e lean near, I catch faint whiff of dust and peppermint, that kind scent wey dey follow boys wey no dey talk too much.

I swallow spit.

One strange pale blue screen appear for my front, show two options: Agree and Refuse. My skin prick like say cold breeze from mortuary just blow me. I look left, look right—nobody dey notice. The whole thing be like jazz—na only me dey see am? My head dey buzz. For Naija, person dey talk say if you dey see wetin others no dey see, make you check your leg—maybe you don waka enter spiritual matter.

Jide’s words just dey echo for my ear like say devil dey whisper.

I sharply process the bullet comments, dey observe my classmates codedly.

My eye waka round the class, I dey check if anybody dey behave somehow—maybe scratch head, maybe dey look air—but everybody just dey like normal.

Na only me dey see these bullet comments so? E be like say others no even notice say wahala dey inside this questionnaire.

If na only me, e mean say I don enter one side of life wey no get road come back. I dey almost pray for under my breath.

To dey expose your classmates just to get exam marks—no be set up be that? Dem wan make us dey sell each other?

And this kind exam points—e go even count for real?

Omo, my mind dey do two-by-two. Na WAEC, no be small pikin play. If dem say make you expose person for marks, e fit get as e be. For Naija, na who know road dey survive, but this one pass normal.

Now, everybody for class get different face: some dey surprised, some dey curious, some even dey happy.

But majority do the same thing—

Dem choose ‘Agree.’

The sharp ones nor even reason am twice—dem just tap 'Agree' with glee, like say na awoof dem dey collect. For this our area, person nor dey dull when opportunity show.

"Haha, I sabi say dem go bring one system for this exam matter one day. I no expect say e go reach our turn this year sha."

One guy for back, wey always dey quick to talk, just dey shine teeth. Na so people begin yarn.

Classmate B talk, "Abeg, wetin dey sup? Dem say na survey, but e fit really add marks for exam?"

Another girl with her new plait just ask like say she get direct connection to the system. Her own wahala na always her own.

Classmate C talk, "From my experience, any system wey show for this kind time no dey ever good. I no dey choose."

As expected, some people still get sense like me.

Bullet comment flash again:

[Tsk tsk, anybody wey choose ‘Refuse’ for first round, dem go wipe am commot straight. If her deskmate no help am choose ‘Agree,’ this supporting babe for don vanish for episode one.]

[So, abeg, no dey overdo. As system don pick you, just collect your destiny as e come.]

[I dey wait make dem see the kind question wey go drop.]

Bullet comments just dey run.

I look the screen for my front, glance my deskmate. After e talk, e no even look up again—like say my choice no concern am. Or maybe those words no even dey for me.

His whole body language dey show, "Oya, make your move." But for my spirit, I just dey pray make I nor fumble.

I arrange myself, try hide my shakings make bullet comments no notice.

My leg dey shake small. For Naija, you fit hide fear, but body nor dey lie. I just jam my two knees together, squeeze hand for under table, as if na cold dey worry me.

So na horror game novel we dey inside so.

I be the always-sacrificing, luck-dodging supporting babe wey sabi find trouble.

And the male lead na my childhood padi, Seyi—one sharp guy wey dey build harem inside horror game.

For the end, na me he use survive this questionnaire game—sacrifice his childhood friend.

My mouth just twist small.

How person wey get this kind wahala take be male lead?

If Seyi be main guy, then my deskmate na the villain.

True true, the class drama dey always play out like one of those Nollywood films—everybody get role, but person nor dey expect the plot twist.