Chapter 1: The Confession and Betrayal

For three years for secondary school, I dey crush on Chijioke—na today e finally open mouth confess.

My heart dey beat gbagam, my hands dey sweat. Palm dey wet like say I just peel yam. As if breeze blow cold inside my chest. For that moment, all the shame, all the times dem laugh me, just fade away small small. But the happiness never even settle for my body before wahala land.

Just as I wanted to say yes, my elder sister hissed at me:

Her eyes sharp, she snap her fingers, hiss loud. "You dey craze? You really believe that one? With your one hundred and fifty kilos—abeg, you no get shame?" She shake head like say I be coconut head. For her voice, na that kin wicked laughter, the one wey dey cut person for inside.

Her words hang for air. My ear dey ring, shame just land for my body. Na so my face burn like pepper, I just lower my head, wan waka disappear, make ground open swallow me. I fit feel all the eyes wey dey look me, even if nobody dey there.

But Chijioke talk, "I like you. E no concern how you look."

E voice soft but sure. E step small closer, voice steady, “Na you I want, no mind anybody.” I see sincerity for him eye. My heart melt small. For that second, e be like say all the gossip and wahala no reach me again. My chest open, hope enter.

I believed am.

I nod small, smile dey struggle for my mouth, my spirit just dey float. Na there I tell myself say, maybe this life fit sweet me small after all.

But later, I catch am and my sister dey kiss like say tomorrow no dey.

My leg weak, breath hang for throat. I wan shout but voice no come out. The shock choke me. Dem no even hide, mouth join mouth, hand dey waka for back under old guava tree for back of staff room. Sun dey set, but e be like say light dey shine only on them. I just stand gidigba, my spirit waka commot body.

I no talk anything. I just follow my papa go Jos.

We waka enter night bus, cold harmattan breeze dey slap my face as we dey leave. Tears no gree me talk, but I just pack my load, my papa hold my hand, we waka comot. The air for Jos cold, but I carry my own kind of cold for chest.

Eight years later, for class reunion, I don slim, I dey shine, confidence full my body.

Gele sit for my head, lace gown hug my body. Gold earring dey dance for ear. If you see me, you go think say na new Ifeoma. Skin dey glow like say I rob ori from Osun market. Even my laugh get new sound, my steps dey different. People dey look me twice. My own confidence, e no dey buy for market.

Fried puff-puff dey smell for air, DJ dey play old P-Square for background. Chijioke waka come meet me for crowd. "Make we talk."

E voice low, e stand one kind—no be the Chijioke wey dey do boy-boy for Amaka before. My mind just dey do mathematics. I feel plenty eyes wey dey watch us for that crowd. I dey reason the Chijioke of that time and the man wey dey stand for my front now.

I look the calm, serious man wey stand for back, then shake my head well well.

I take deep breath, allow small smile touch my face. I fit see small beg for him eye, but my spirit don pass that level.

"No. My husband go vex."

I drop am like hot akara, then waka comot, my back straight, my head dey up. As I waka pass, I know say my story don change—no be shame again, na pride dey carry me now.