Chapter 1: Forbidden Fruit, Palm Grove Wahala

When I dey secretly chop forbidden fruit with my childhood friend, na so e hold e belle, roll fall from bed, land for ground with gbam.

My heart beat dey jump like talking drum. For that moment, I freeze—If I shout now, dem go hear. If I no do anything, e fit die here. Wetin I go do? Na small breeze blow enter room, window dey shake, but for inside, na hot gist dey boil. If anybody hear am for street, dem go just shout, "Na wa o! See wetin Sade and Timi don carry head enter." E shock me reach bone.

Sharp sharp, comment begin fly everywhere:

[LOL, see as the guy dey feel period pain for the first time!]

[Good for am—who send am make e dey do anyhow with childhood friend? As e hormones rise, na so e trigger the babe own period!]

[This empathy setting no get part two. I dey imagine when guy and babe... Double wahala go land, I wan laugh die!]

People no dey ever mind their business for this area. Dem dey quick to yarn matter like pepper soup gist, especially when e concern love wey no suppose show. If dem see am for WhatsApp group, na so dem go dey drop memes and sticker anyhow. Me sef just weak.

No be today I dey see all these comments.

E be like say life just dey repeat itself, like Nollywood series wey no dey end. My mind dey remember old comments wey dem dey always drop, as if na prophecy. For our side, once dem start, everybody go dey check phone, dey wonder who next gist go land for head.

Na me be the childhood friend. The babe na that transfer student.

My name dey for everybody mouth, but dem no dey see the pain wey dey inside my chest. As I dey think am, na only me and Timi sabi wetin we dey pass through. As for the transfer babe, na Kamsi everybody dey hail now. Na her fine face, na her new style. I dey look as if I dey outside my own story.

As I look my childhood friend, e don pale, dey bend for pain front of me, I just talk low, "Make we just forget about us."

The words choke for my throat. I see as Timi dey grip e stomach, eyes red, sweat dey run like small pikin wey dem flog for block rosary. I wan talk more, but my mouth just dry. E pain me say na me talk am, but na only wetin fit save my heart now.

But as I waka comot, e tears dey burn my back like pepper—na so heartbreak dey start.