Who Chop Our Class Money? / Chapter 3: Public Disgrace and Halima’s Sacrifice
Who Chop Our Class Money?

Who Chop Our Class Money?

Author: Tiffany Butler


Chapter 3: Public Disgrace and Halima’s Sacrifice

She look me with big eyes, shock clear like person wey see snake for bathroom.

My classmates quickly understand, faces twist in disgust. Some hiss, others shake head. Person mutter, "Shame dey catch me for am."

"I no believe say na this kind person be our class prefect."

One guy dey tap table, dey wonder how I fit do this kind thing. Some dey regret ever voting me.

"This your list no make sense—how you go bring am as evidence?" Ayo raise voice, body dey shake. "You dey joke with us?"

Uche, best for maths, dey calculate, vex dey show for him face. "This kind loss, police suppose handle am."

People begin mention police steady. For Naija, police matter dey make people serious quick.

"The class prefect no even look like person wey need money. Why she go thief our money?" People dey check my wristwatch, shoe—like say e fit show if I thief or not.

"Who sabi where she dey get her own money from..."

Rumours fly. Boys whisper, "She dey date rich man." Others, "Na her uncle be big man for government."

Suddenly, teacher voice enter, everywhere freeze. "Ahem, wetin dey happen for here?" People adjust, those wey dey shout before act cool.

"No be class meeting be this? Why everywhere dey scatter?" Teacher try form calm, but you fit see say she dey ready for wahala.

Halima no waste time, waka go front. "Aunty Ruth, abeg, e get one big problem. Class prefect Sade don thief class funds."

Her voice loud, even people from next class dey hear. Na so everywhere scatter, matter travel fast. Teachers from next class dey peep.

Counselor, big man for school, face tight, voice deep. "Wetin dey happen?" Everybody quiet, some dey fear punishment.

After Halima yarn, counselor look me one kind. Him eye dey scan me head to toe.

"Sade, you... sigh... you don really disappoint me."

He shake head, voice heavy. Disappointment clear, people dey murmur. "You dey the list for direct graduate admission. How you go mess up now wey e matter pass?"

He bring matter to front, make sure everybody hear. The class shock. He sigh, all respect for eye don change to disappointment.

Once he mention direct admission, classmates vex more. "So na thief go carry our slot?" One boy shout, "Me sef sabi book, dem no put me!"

"True talk! Even if dem no give her big punishment, e too much."

Some dey look me, face strong. "I pay my five hundred for class fund, no be to support her."

"Dem suppose punish her well. If she dey thief small money now, tomorrow she go thief bigger one."

The old proverb: who thief yam today, fit thief goat tomorrow.

"I no go gree for this!" Noise everywhere. For Naija, when matter reach money, nobody dey dull.

My mind dey run. All my hard work fit waste. After this wahala, not only my admission dey at risk—dem fit even expel me. I dey reason my papa face if dem call am for school, my body cold like Harmattan morning.

Counselor pause, pity show for face, voice soft. "Sade, I know say life fit pressure person. I believe say you no do am on purpose. But for this kind thing, if dem no punish you, others no go gree. I no fit cover you. How about this: you give up your direct admission, return the money, then case close. With your results, you fit still enter by writing entrance exam."

He dey try protect me from full disgrace. For Naija, if person help you hide shame, na big thing.

But I just frown, mind hard. "The graduate entrance exam dey two months from now. If I start to read now, I fit really pass am?"

My voice dey challenge, like say I dey reason if e worth am. People dey hiss, shake head. "And the money no be me chop am. My list show say na class activities I use am do, I even add my own money join. Now una wan make I pay back? For wetin?"

My voice rise. The class roar again. I bone face, no show regret. Some dey watch, others dey record with phone.

Counselor vex, body shake. "You... You make mistake but you no wan correct am, na only yourself you dey reason. Person wey no gree accept wrong, how e go change? You no get hope again."

He drop the line, voice weak. That one pain me, but I no show am. He sit, collect water Halima give am, drink, no even look my side.

As he sit, everywhere quiet. That silence heavy, you fit cut am with knife.

"Sade, I be your classmate and roommate. I no fit harm you," Halima voice soft, almost whisper. "Abeg, hear Aunty Ruth. Na your own good she dey reason. Why you go risk expulsion because of just over ten thousand naira? No let this small thing spoil your whole future."

She draw chair, face class. "Abeg, make we call police. She no even get shame."

She shake head, voice loud now. Her anger don return. "True talk, why we dey waste time? I think say she be good example before. I no get sense."

One boy for corner shout, "Abeg, call police now."

"Na only the counselor and Halima get good mind—still dey find way for her. I say make we expose her, make everybody see the kind class prefect we get."

Some people snap picture, dey talk say dem go post for group.

Because of my attitude, my classmates all show anger. People no gree again. Some throw side-eye, others talk loud, "Thief, thief!"

"I no go pay, I no go donate for am. Do anything una like." I pack bag, waka commot, leave everybody dey look each other.

I waka commot slow, but my heart dey pound—let them see for themselves.

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