Chapter 6: Dirty Socks and Deadly Rules

People just dey look am, think say e don craze.

Some dey whisper, “E reach like this?” others just dey shake head.

Aunty Temi step in: “If na so, make una finish the task sharp. Na ten minutes to sit—Halima Musa no talk time, maybe na trap. If e must be fifteen or eleven minutes, you go die.”

She raise hand, voice loud. “We go do am sharp, abeg.”

“Who be second unlucky? Stand up. E go shame small, but if we do am, e go ginger us.”

Her eyes dey plead, like say she dey beg for everybody.

“No fear, we go turn face. If we win this one, maybe we fit fight Halima Musa.”

Her voice dey shake, but you fit see hope dey inside.

But no matter how she shout, nobody stand up.

Everybody dey look chair, dey look ground, nobody gree talk. You fit hear pin drop.

Ifeanyi shock: “E no possible, second unlucky no dey?”

He dey search face, dey tap app for him phone. “Check am well!”

Auwalu frown: “Abeg, stand up. If we find you, we no go smile.”

He dey knock desk, voice dey rise. “Omo, all of us dey risk!”

“This one concern everybody. No be only you. Think of the rest.”

He point at people. “Make you no let all of us suffer.”

Still, nobody stand. Everybody dey look around, confuse.

People dey check pocket, dey act busy. Nobody wan admit.

Kunle vex: “I know say na set up!”

He dey bite lip, sweat dey pour. “Na plan! Dem wan disgrace me!”

He dey shake, kick desk, carry stool knack wall.

Noise scatter, dust fly. “Wetin dey happen for here?” person whisper.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

He dey repeat, room dey hot. “E don do!” one girl shout.

“Omo, dem wan kill me! This kind play—if I catch you, na beat you go chop first!”

He dey scan room, finger dey point people.

Aunty Temi vex too.

She dey breathe hard, her eyebrow dey up. She wan try control room.

She open group chat, click chop money.

She dey refresh, dey scroll. Her face dey hard.

“Why you dey hide? Stingy people. I sure say na poor student, no fit buy better phone, no fit send chop money.”

Her voice get spite. Some people dey side-eye am.

“If not, how e go be like this? You think we no fit find you?”

She dey tap phone hard. “Omo, e pain me!”

“Tsk tsk, poor student, maybe you no even know say chop money dey get record.”

She dey shade person for group, voice loud.

Aunty Temi face twist, anger full am, same as Kunle.

She dey purse lips, fist dey tight. The tension dey high.

Suddenly, she freeze.

Her mouth open, phone fall small, hand stiff.

“Why I no fit check chop money record?”

She dey scroll, but the screen blank. “Omo, na real wahala.”

Everybody click am, but where names and amount suppose show,

e blank.

People dey show each other phone, panic dey rise. “Omo, na real jazz!”

Na Halima Musa no wan make we find second unlucky.

Even Ifeanyi whisper, “E be like Halima dey control everything from afterlife.”

Then, new rule land.

Notification enter again. The font big, time dey tick.

[13 minutes remain]

[Count 10 minutes to sit. If una no find second unlucky for 3 minutes, punishment go land.]

[Countdown: 2:50...]

Phone dey beep, heart dey beat, sweat dey roll. People dey pray for mind.

Kunle don craze. Aunty Temi don craze.

People dey bite finger, dey rub head, dey look phone like say na solution go come from screen. Na only God fit save person for this kain wahala.

Everybody wey see message, mind don scatter.

But as the countdown begin, everybody dey reason—who go survive this Naija horror?