Chapter 2: Ifunanya for Rooftop—Drama Burst

"Teacher Temi, Ifunanya dey try jump for upstairs! Abeg, make you come now now!"

Na so one girl rush enter office, panic full her face like say she just see masquerade.

My biro fall from my hand as I hear the urgency for her voice. I glance my wristwatch—this one nor be normal school wahala. My heart start dey race, like say I run 100 meters just now.

I frown, drop my lesson plan for table.

I try compose myself, but the way the girl dey shake, I know say the matter no be small.

"Wetin happen? Where she dey now?"

The girl pat her chest, dey try catch breath, she reply,

"She dey rooftop for teaching block. Students full ground dey look up. If you no go now, she fit really jump!"

For her eye, you go see real fear, like say she dey watch live horror film.

I nod, quick stand up go outside.

As I dey waka, my mind dey pray—'God of my village, no let this pikin fall, abeg.' I dey beg God inside my heart, make nothing spoil today.

For corridor, students gather for window, dey stretch neck dey look up. The air dey heavy with the smell of chalk and sweat. My ears dey pick all the small small whispers. Even some boys wey no dey ever serious, today dem serious. You go hear small whispers, fear dey everywhere. Even cleaner stop, dey look as if say na Nollywood film dey act live.

Meanwhile, some girls dey gossip for one corner:

"Ifunanya no go really jump, abi?"

"Who sabi? Na only two months remain for JAMB. Maybe she no fit handle the wahala."

"No be anybody fault o. Na she no gree read."

Another one snap finger: "No be juju be that? Abeg, na so dem dey form for social media."

You go wonder whether dem dey talk as friend or enemy. Sometimes I dey ask myself how teenagers dey reason. But today, I nor get time for their own now.

I just keep their words for mind, then rush climb stairs go rooftop for eighth floor. As I dey climb, the squeak of my worn sandals echo for the staircase. My chest dey pound—every step dey heavy like say na stone I dey carry. I dey pray make I nor hear shout from downstairs.

As I reach rooftop, the Lagos sun dey bake everywhere. Dust dey fly small, and for far distance, I fit hear the horn of danfo bus. Teachers and students full everywhere, dey beg person:

"Ifunanya, abeg come down. Say you no do well for test no mean anything. E no reach like that."

One teacher even dey wave hand like say na church deliverance.

I follow the voice—na Ifunanya homeroom teacher, Mr. Adekunle, dey talk. Sweat dey roll down Mr. Adekunle forehead, e face pale. Him voice dey tremble small, but he dey try hold am together.

Mr. Adekunle see me, as if e see saviour, rush come meet me:

"Teacher Temi, na you get best rapport with Ifunanya. You sef don teach her maths. Abeg, try talk to am!"

As e hold my arm, na so e dey shake. I fit see say he nor sleep well. For this job, some things fit really shake person.

I nod, waka come out from the crowd, see Ifunanya.

Half of her body don already dey outside guardrail; small mistake, she go fall go ground.

Ifunanya hair dey scatter, school skirt dey flap for breeze, she hold the rail like say na only hope she get. Tears just dey roll from her eye.

She see me, tears full her eye, she call:

"Teacher... Teacher Temi."

Her voice low, as if she dey beg for help wey she nor fit explain finish. My heart just squeeze me like wrapper.