Chapter 2: Locker of Endless Answers

As I sit down, wan pick pen, I see corner of white paper from locker. I pull am—another answer sheet.

Paper slide out gently, like e dey wait for me. My mouth open. I look invigilator, him dey eye me sharp.

I raise hand again. Invigilator expect am, rush come. See another answer sheet, e nearly fall.

Him jaw drop. E hold him chest, look me like say na juju I use. Students dey giggle, dey whisper.

He look me, eyes big: "How come another one dey?"

Voice low, panic high. I just shrug, palm up, "Na you sabi."

I shake head, face show say I no get clue.

I do small pity face—the same way I dey do when mama accuse me of finishing stew. Invigilator mouth still open.

He squeeze the answer sheet, signal me to continue.

He sigh heavy, shoulder drop, wave me on like traffic warden wey tire for Ajah. Answer sheet don crumple for hand.

I nod, try focus, but again, another answer sheet show for locker.

At this point, my mind started running wild. “Abi this locker get spirit?” I thought, staring at it suspiciously. If this na Nollywood, by now jazz for don start. I even poke the inside before I pick pen again.

……

When bell ring and dem announce exam finish, no new answer sheet appear again.

Hall burst into shuffle and whisper, but today, nobody wan near me. My finger stained with ink and fear. Locker rest at last, like e sef tire.

By then, invigilator and me don pull more than twenty answer sheets from my locker.

The stack on the desk was as high as my textbooks at home. Invigilator look the papers, then me, shake head like papa wey market no favor.

Invigilator clear hall, leave only me.

He stand for door, dey shout: "Everybody out! Now-now!" Students rush commot, dey look me back like say I be spirit.

After small time, Mr. Okon show. See floor full of paper, e just understand. No need talk, he rub forehead, "Na wa o."

Nothing remain to do; e just report to higher people.

He grab phone, hand dey shake, dial number like pikin wey lose purse. Voice flat but urgent.

After Mr. Okon explain and swear say he no mad, school leaders gree send team come exam hall.

I dey imagine their side: "Are you sure you're okay, Okon?" "I swear, Madam, come see am." Soon, footsteps echo for corridor—a sign say real authorities dey come. The smell of dust and hot disinfectant filled the air as their shoes marched in.

Later, invigilator and me explain everything to the group.

Dem surround us, face strong with doubt. Some wear agbada, some shirt, all dey frown like burial ground.

Dem still dey doubt. Even after seeing the correct answers, dem dey suspect question leak.

One principal, big madam with red lipstick, wave answer sheet: "Who carry this expo come? You wan use us do mumu for this school?" I almost laugh but hold am.

But as for our claim say answer sheets appear from nowhere, dem just reason say we craze.

Somebody snort, "Na story for tortoise be this one." Another say, "E fit be spiritual attack, o."

"Check the CCTV!" Mr. Okon shout again, voice nearly scatter group.

Voice thunder for hall, some people jump. Science teacher adjust her headtie, dey pray small-small.

True to form, after watching the CCTV, their frowns deep pass before.

One oga squint at the footage, shake head like say he expect to see me use magic powder. Room quiet like burial.

"Is this... a supernatural thing?" One old professor talk, "I don live long, but this na the first time I dey see real supernatural event."

Him voice carry Igbo elder weight, full of story and warning. Room shiver, like say him word carry power. Younger teachers look each other, fear and glee dey mix.

"Should we try am? Make we see if locker go bring another answer sheet?"

Somebody whisper, "Make we call Baba Ijebu check am," people snicker, but everybody dey look.

"Let's try."

Dem all nod, tension thick like ogi. Hall resemble shrine, as if something sacred or abomination wan happen.

So group follow old professor go exam hall. With everybody watch, professor sit my seat.

He dust chair like ritual, adjust cap, sit. Hand hover for desk. People hold breath, dey wait for miracle or danger.

But after over ten minutes, nothing show for locker.

Hall restless. Somebody cough. Old professor tap desk, face show small disappointment. Suspense fade, na sigh remain.

"Let me try," I suggest from crowd.

Voice low, almost lost inside their murmur. Professor look me, then others, nod serious.

Old professor nod, give me seat.

I sit down gentle, as if spell dey ground. Chair still warm. Eyes full on me—my palm dey sweat.

Still, nothing in locker.

Tension dey heavy. People shuffle, check time. My heartbeat dey knock my ear.

"Maybe e dey work only during exam," I reason. "Sir, fit give me test paper? Even mock one dey okay."

I raise hand small, hope dey my voice. Teachers nod, dey mumble. Like say I drop secret code.

Invigilator rush go office, carry random mock test, put am for my desk.

He nearly run, shoe dey squeak. When he return, breath dey hang, paper like sacred offering.

"Let’s do am like real exam. The rest, go CCTV room watch," professor order, everybody except invigilator commot.

He clap hand for emphasis. People waka out, dey whisper, "Na juju, na juju!" Room quiet, only two of us and dust for sunlight.

Now, na only invigilator and me dey inside.