Chapter 5: Final Stand and a New Twist

Teacher para, pack my books, bundle am inside bag, throw am give me. "Oya, commot, go!"

I carry my bag. For my mind, I dey prepare for anything.

Girls and boys begin beg. "Sir, abeg, maybe e dey talk true. E fit dey honest."

Class dey beg. "Sir, abeg, expulsion no good. Give am one more chance."

My classmate begin cry, sobbing. E voice low, but pain dey inside.

E talk, voice break. "He dey curse my mama, una dey help am. Nobody reason my side."

Some people dey shake head, dey hiss. E be like say e talk too much.

Na so e be. Boys fit para for joke, but when wahala pass, nobody dey hear sorry.

For Naija, if you mess with person phone, you fit lose padi. Trust dey hard, wahala dey easy.

People wey fit joke with you na your real padi. This one don pass, e no be our padi again.

Teacher bark. "No more talk. Anybody talk, I go punish."

I wave hand, try smile. "No wahala, I go come back."

Teacher dey mock. "If you come back, I go teach with my leg, no wahala."

I no even talk. I look my guy, we both smile. Na silent understanding—nothing fit break am.

My mind clear. I know say I dey right, no matter wetin dem talk.

My best friend still dey loyal. He no regret.

He grip my shoulder. "No wahala, make we dey bounce."

Na then, phone ring. For silent class, ringtone loud like siren. Everybody shock. All eyes turn, heart dey beat. Wetin go happen next?