Chapter 1: Chop Money Wahala

Class prefect just yarn say, “Everybody, gather for common room sharp sharp!”

The air for hostel get that special feel—generator hum dey background. Mosquito dey waka for leg, but no mind—tonight na party. Pepper soup smell dey drift from one of the senior boys’ room, and outside, fireworks dey snap here and there like small thunder. You fit smell burnt powder for air, neighbours dey shout Happy New Year from their own block. Boys and girls dey lounge for different corners, some with gala, some dey share minerals, everybody dey try find their own groove before countdown.

Suddenly, person just drop chop money for the class WhatsApp group.

The notification ping just burst everybody ear at once. For that kind Naija way, the room go silent small, everybody reach for their phone sharp sharp, eye dey shine. E remain make person shout, “Data no dey finish tonight!”

Somebody yell, “Make una send account number, abeg!” Laughter scatter everywhere.

“Ah ah, see as person drop chop money! Make we do Luck King relay!”

Person wey sit for the back shout am with voice full of excitement. People begin laugh, some dey jump for joy, as if na real awoof dem wan collect. Even those wey never chop since morning, hope dey for their eye.

Before three seconds waka, dem don clear the chop money finish.

Fingers dey fly, na so e be for Naija when free money show face. Before you fit say, "God abeg o!" people don already collect. The girls with the fastest finger dey dance small dance, some boys dey hail dem: “Chop life gang!”

The class prefect just dey smile, raise her phone: “Na me get the best luck oh! I grab twenty-five thousand naira.”

She even do small zanku, phone high for air. She pose with her phone, snap selfie, as if she wan show Instagram followers. The others hail her. “Aunty Temi, na you get grace!” Someone from the back shout, “Abeg, dash us something!”

My roommate, Ifeanyi, talk say, “Me sef try, I get ten thousand. E no bad at all.”

He just dey beam, shaking his phone for air. “Na today be my own Detty December!” he add. Some people clap for am, others just dey envy in silence.

Morayo come squeeze face: “Ah ah, una own too big. Why na only three hundred naira reach my hand?”

Her voice get small wahala for inside, but everybody know say she dey catch cruise. She hold her phone like say e offend am. “God, wetin I do you?”

Everybody just burst laugh.

The laugh sweet everybody, wahala disappear small. One or two people dey roll for floor. “Na your hand slow, Morayo!” person tease her. “No blame God!”

Next thing, more messages land for the group.

The chat dey beep nonstop. People dey look up, their faces turn serious. The glow for the room just change from joy to confusion.

[The chop money don share finish. The red envelope game don start be that.]

[First round game rule:]

[The person wey luck pass fit do anything wey e want inside this common room.]

[The person wey luck worst, choose how you wan die.]

Class prefect just vex: “Which kind ‘choose how you wan die’ be that? Na New Year we dey oh! Which student dey do this kind yeye play? Your head dey touch?”

She hiss loud, flip her braids behind her shoulder. “Na prank abi na jazz?” she add, her voice full of command. The rest dey nod, some dey eye her, others dey fear. E be like everybody dey wait for who go talk sense.

Auwalu, wey dey near her, begin shake: “Aunty Temi, na Halima Musa send am.”

Auwalu voice tremble, he almost drop him bottle water. He glance around, whisper: “I see am, no lie.”

“But she just die some days ago na?”

When he talk am, everybody freeze. Even the air for the room con cold. Somebody for corner mutter, “Abeg, no dey play with dead person name.”