Chapter 2: The Truth Comes Out

Class meeting. Halima, welfare committee rep, stand for front, face full of sadness like rain wey wan fall. Even her scarf no dey sit well, you fit see say sleep run from her eye.

On top whiteboard, dem show Ifedayo photo for hospital bed, body thin like broomstick.

The smell of Dettol and old curtain dey inside the picture, make everybody chest heavy. Ifedayo wey dey always crack joke now just dey weak, drip line for hand. You fit hear sniff-sniff for class.

Ifedayo parents dey bow head, dey wipe tears—everybody chest just dey tight.

Nobody fit look the picture finish; even boys wey dey form hard man bend head. For Naija, to see elders cry dey move people.

Classmates start come out one by one. Some scan the transfer code with their phone, others just drop cash for Halima bowl. Small competition start as people dey encourage each other, "No mind say na small, every kobo dey count."

"We all be classmates. We suppose help each other," Ayo talk, voice loud. "Na now we go show say we dey for each other, no be only for gist."

Another voice from back, "Hope say he go get well soon... Sigh, life no balance."

"Even though I no get much, I go still try contribute small," Blessing count coins, her voice soft. Her small gesture ginger more people to donate.

You fit feel real family for that moment. Boys dey hug, girls dey pray: "Make God heal am quick-quick." Everybody chorus, "Amen."

Halima clear throat, voice rise. "Abeg, make we hear word. Good mind dey important, but abeg, make e no affect una own life too much."

She look round, voice break small. She sabi students dey manage—make nobody overdo.

"I remember say class fund still dey. I suggest make we use am first."

She come look my side—the person wey dey manage fund. Her eyes dey call me to answer, even teacher dey look.

"Na true. We dey pay plenty money every semester. Na for times like this dem dey use am."

One guy for back shout, "Abeg, no long talk. Use the money!"

Yewande wave hand, "If dem wan use my share, no wahala." Boys echo am. Whole class support.

People relax small, hope come back. I just slowly shake my head.

All eyes on me, like thief caught for market. My heart tight, but I bone face, shake head slow like coconut wey no wan fall.

"Everything don finish. No money remain for there."

My words drop like cold water. Silence enter, even birds quiet.

Classmates start to para. Wahala burst. "You dey craze? How money go finish?" Some point finger, others dey vex for WhatsApp, everywhere scatter.

"But this semester, we never really spend like that na," Blessing talk, dey calculate for head.

"Abeg, make we check the account well." Two boys ready reach my bag, but I hold am tight. Eyes red, suspicion everywhere.

Trust for class prefect don vanish. As I adjust for chair, heat surround me like gen wey no get water.

Halima frown, voice serious. "Sade, this na class fund matter, abeg."

She point me, voice calm but strong. "We no just pick you for fun. You suppose protect our money. Now person dey sick, this na serious matter—Ifedayo need help. This no be play."

She look like she go cry, but she hold herself. I just smirk, cross leg, press phone, dey form stubborn.

"I don talk am, everything don finish." My tone dry, I shake head, raise shoulder.

"You expect make I use my own money fill the gap?" Class mumble.

Halima look me eye to eye, voice sharp. "Where the account list? Show us now now, abeg."

She stand ground, eyes red, body no shake. Even shy people dey nod. She lead, "Sade, upload am!" Classmates behind her like soldiers.

I no talk much, just post semester expenses for WhatsApp group.

People dey scroll, dey read: "Sports meet... three thousand..." "Which sports meet?" "Teacher's Day... two thousand eight hundred..." "But na only card and small cake we buy." "Renovate classroom... four thousand five hundred..." Room still dey leak.

"Top Ten Singers... eight thousand eight hundred..." People eyes wide. "Abi Wizkid come perform wey we no know?" Another joke, "Wetin we wear, na agbada?"

Confusion for group chat loud. People dey add numbers for calculator, dey compare with reality. Frowns everywhere, whispers fly: "This list get k-leg."

"No be like that. For sports meet, na only malt we buy—at most few hundred. How e reach three thousand?" Opeyemi raise hand, face surprise. "Even the malt, we share one bottle two people."

Halima voice calm, but strong: "You forge the list."

Class keep quiet. E be like movie for NTA. Everybody wait for what next.