Who Chop Our Class Money? / Chapter 1: The Accusation and the Fallout
Who Chop Our Class Money?

Who Chop Our Class Money?

Author: Tiffany Butler


Chapter 1: The Accusation and the Fallout

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Halima did not even waste time before she started calling people, her sharp voice ginger everybody for class. For our school, na so she dey always look out for people, especially those wey no get. Everybody sabi say Halima heart dey soft, she no dey carry last when person dey suffer.

But me, I just bone face, answer her cold-cold, "Everything don finish. No money remain for there."

As I talk am, I just shift face one side, like say her palava na mosquito for my ear. My voice dry like garri without sugar—no pity, no wahala. People for class notice, but dem no too talk that time.

Halima frown hard. "We dey pay five hundred each semester, that's about fifteen thousand in total. How all the money go just finish like that?"

She fold arm, balance leg for chair, eye me well-well, eyebrow high like person wey dey suspect. Some classmates begin whisper, dey reason if money really finish.

Later, as Ifedayo condition come worse, Halima rush meet me again for urgent treatment money, but I still bone, no gree use class funds.

That night, Halima no sleep. She waka round hostel, dey beg who fit help. Her face change, eyes red like person wey cry tire. When she come my side again, I bone face, like say her palava na mosquito for my ear.

She accuse me of stealing public money, say I wan let person die.

Her voice rise, people gather, e be like market square. For Naija, if person accuse you for public, wahala dey spread quick.

Once my classmates hear, everywhere burst.

Some people jump from chair, others shout, voice loud like morning devotion. The room hot, I fit feel their eye burn my skin.

"How person like you go be class prefect? We no get sense to trust you before."

One guy wey sabi run mouth no waste time, him word harsh but true for him mind.

"Oga, you wan run us street? Where the money waka go?" another shout.

Adaobi wave her phone, like say she go call DPO that minute. You know say for Naija, once police enter matter, wahala dey serious.

"This na life and death matter! How you go dey heartless like this?"

Even the quiet ones talk, their face show disbelief. For here, if you turn back on person wey sick, na bad thing.

As the gist dey hot, counselor call grade meeting.

School don dey hear am small-small. Counselor—Aunty Ruth, wey people dey fear—summon us. As we gather, tension thick for air like NECO result time.

Facing everybody’s accusations, I just bring out the account book steady.

Everybody dey expect say I go beg, but I unlock my bag, bring out account book slow-slow, dust am, stand like say nothing dey worry me. Everywhere quiet like burial ground.

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