Chapter 2: Childhood Love No Be Guarantee

When Kamsi slap me for face, I shock so tey I no fit talk.

I just stand there, my hand cover my cheek, the whole class silent like say NEPA just take light. The kind echo wey that slap get, e still dey ring for my ear. You know say, for this our school, if drama wan happen, na like market day—so people dey wait to see my reaction.

The slap loud, e echo for everywhere. My eye begin turn, my head dey buzz from the hot slap.

As I blink, I dey taste small blood for my mouth. The thing surprise me. For my mind, I dey ask myself if na dream I dey.

My left cheek just dey burn like fire.

E be like pepper dey my face. Tears just dey gather for my eye, but I try hold am. For inside, my chest dey shake.

I hold my face, dey look am with surprise.

Kamsi face just hard—like say e no even know the gravity of wetin e do. For my mind, I dey see the boy wey dey play with me for street turn stranger overnight.

My childhood friend, Kamsi, slap me for public as I dey argue with the new transfer student.

People wey know us from block to block go no say na big thing. Even teacher no fit talk that minute. Dem dey fear say fight go burst.

Kamsi come realize wetin e do. For one second, e face stiff, but anger and impatience quickly cover am.

For that one second, e eye clear. But before apology fit land, e pride take over. As e talk, e voice high—like person wey dey defend im manhood.

“Abeg, stop all this wahala! Ifeoma! Go back to your seat!”

The way he shout, e be like say na small pikin e dey warn. Some people for class even squeeze face.

Somebody for class chuckle small. Most people just keep quiet, dey watch as everything dey happen.

You know as e be—some people dey always find how to take see person disgrace. The ones wey dey laugh, no even get mind to talk if na dem.

Halima stand near Kamsi, dey play with her fine brown hair, click her tongue like say she dey pity me.

She just dey form classic babe, her leg cross, hand on waist, dey survey the drama like say she dey watch Africa Magic.

“Ah ah, Kamsi, wetin you dey do? You no see say your small princess wan cry?”

The way Halima talk am, e sweet her. Her voice sharp, like say she dey add pepper to the wound. The boys wey dey around just dey giggle. One girl for back whisper, "Na so she be since primary."

As she talk that one, Kamsi voice come cold well well.

Like say the whole matter tire am. E voice turn stone. My body just freeze, I dey wish ground go open make I disappear.

“Ifeoma, if you wan cry, go house go cry! This one na school, no be your papa compound wey you go dey do like princess up and down.”

People for class open eye. Some dey look me with pity, some dey try hide laugh, others dey avoid my eye. I feel like everybody dey judge me at once.

Shame, pain and anger just dey boil inside me. Tears rush come my eye, begin fall for my face.

E shock me how fast the tears rush me. E be like dam wey dem break. I no even fit hold myself again.

As the boys dey laugh, I just run comot for class.

Dem dey shout, 'Sorry o!' but na fake. As I run go corridor, my slippers nearly fall.

I no even know where I dey go. I just know say I no fit go back that class or see those people again.

I pass teacher office, I pass tuck shop, just dey waka anyhow. My leg weak, but shame no let me stop.

True true, Kamsi always dey impatient with me, but na the first time wey e ever raise hand for me.

No matter the quarrel before, e never ever touch me. My heart hard like kpof-kpof wey don cold as I dey reason am.

And not just that—na the first time anybody ever slap me for my whole life.

Even my papa never slap me before. Na only small flog or shout. But slap? Never. The thing cut me deep like knife.