Chapter 7: The 51st Stand

This road no even be Tobi way to house—he follow me reach there.

As everything dey happen, I realize say this no be Tobi regular route. E actually follow me, just to make sure say nothing touch Halima.

No matter wetin happen, no matter wetin his babe do, he go always support her.

Even if Halima dey wrong, Tobi go always cover for am. Na loyalty or na blindness, I no even know.

Na this person I dey crush on for three years—waste of time.

My chest just dey heavy. How I take let myself waste three whole years for person wey no even see me?

Last last, na still me dem punish. My own talk no mean anything.

After dem check bag, story long. Na only my name dem write for record. My voice no loud reach.

Who send me to be 51st, when Halima be number 7?

I reason am—maybe if I dey among the first ten, dem for hear my side. But number 51, who send you?

Teachers always dey favor the sharp ones.

For this school, teacher get eye only for book people. If your score low, your matter no dey enter staff room.

Our class teacher na maths teacher join.

Wahala double. Our maths madam dey strict, she no dey like noise.

At first, the punishment suppose dey private, but she announce am for class, make me stand for corridor whole period, as warning.

She announce my punishment for assembly. I go stand for corridor, make everybody see example. The shame reach bone.

“Some girls, make I advise you: get shame. You no just dull, you dey copy bad thing join. No go disgrace our top class as outsider.”

As I dey stand for corridor, teacher yarn say girls like me dey disgrace the class. E pain me. E be like say dem forget say I still be human being.

Halima just dey flip her Five-Three workbook, small smile, her eyes dey proud.

Through window, I see Halima dey shine teeth, dey form innocent. She dey flip workbook, dey do as if she no send.

Tobi no even fit look me for face.

Tobi just dey stare desk, e no fit meet my eye. Maybe e dey shame, maybe e no even care.

I waka out calmly, stand for corridor, dey tear my diary page by page—all those secret love stories.

I just carry my diary, dey use finger tear each page slowly. My hand dey shake as I tear the paper, the sound loud for my ear like slap. All the story I write about Tobi—every single one, dey pain me afresh as I pull am out.

The first one na from summer before junior secondary, when tall, slim boy dey explain physics to me. His clear voice make my heart dey beat.

I remember the day Tobi first explain physics for me after lesson. His voice soft, confidence dey. My heart melt. I write the thing sharp sharp for my diary.

From that time, every diary page na about am—his name, his score, the small chin-chin I sneak give am, how he never reject my feelings.

Even small things—I go buy chin-chin, share with am, dey look for small sign. He no ever talk am, no ever reply my heart.

Every page dey count down to adulthood, dey plan for the day I go confess.

I dey dream, dey plan, dey hope say maybe one day e go see me. Maybe e go confess first. Na all those hopes dey full my book.

But now, for final year, all my hope and love just end sharp sharp.

Final year come. Na now I realize say na only me dey do the loving. My spirit weak. No need to continue the foolishness.

Tobi no deserve even one more drop of ink from me.

From today, e no go collect anything from my hand—no book, no heart, no single attention.

English teacher pass with chilled zobo, stop as she see me, collect the free toy, give me the zobo.

As I dey stand, English madam dey waka pass with her cold zobo and small toys for children. She see me, stop, give me one toy and zobo.

“Morayo, abeg no dey tear your book because dem punish you! Mama Halima dey worry you again? That her mouth no dey rest!”

She look my face, sigh. She know say na Halima wahala. "That girl dey trouble everywhere. No let am make you forget yourself."

“You enter top class by merit—the school cutoff carry you. Whether she like you or not no mean anything! Besides, I dey see say you dey get the maths right. You no quick like them, but you dey careful and thorough. You no bad at all.”

She dey encourage me, say I no dull. I dey try, my effort dey show. Na slow and steady, but I dey make am.

“Your life na your own—no revolve around boy, no send those people! Good luck for WAEC!”

She pat my back, give me quick smile, then waka. "You go pass WAEC, just keep your head straight."

I smile, drink the zobo finish, stand outside dey listen to maths class.

God bless you, ma. This zobo sweet pass all my wahala.

The cold zobo sweet me, my body relax. I just dey listen from corridor, dey try catch up with class.