Chapter 2: Book Work and Family Drama

Book work don always easy for me. Since I small, if I want first position, na me dey collect am.

Sometimes, teachers go just look my paper, smile, call me 'brainbox.' Even when dem dey call prize winners for assembly, I dey sure say dem go call my name. That confidence dey my body like skin.

I still get my mama beauty join.

Any time I waka for street, okada men dey hail, 'Fine girl, you too set.' Neighbours dey always compare me to my mama, say I resemble am die, only say my own skin dey even fresher.

Apart from say my family no get money, I no really get any wahala.

Na true. If say I get small cash, maybe my life for sweet pass like indomie with plenty garnish. But as I dey, na just me, my books, and the wahala wey I sabi dodge.

For secondary school, my mama marry one rich man, then leave me with a bank card.

The day she waka go, she just drop that bank card like say she dey drop used sachet water. No hug, no tears. She just bounce.

"No contact me again. I go dey send you money every year."

She even talk am for public, loud enough for everybody to hear. Like say I be stray cat wey she dey donate to shelter.

She tell everybody say she single, she no want my existence to spoil her new marriage.

For family meeting, she dey form 'single mother', dey cry crocodile tears. But na only me know the real story. If na Lagos, people for clap for her acting.

I no feel anything. I just collect the card and tell people say I be orphan.

After that day, my mind just freeze. Na like say she remove one part of me and throway. I begin move anyhow, no dey answer her calls. For hostel, I just dey tell people say my parents don kpai. Na so e easy for me to waka for street without drama. Even as small pikin, if I cry, she go just hiss. If I smile, she go turn face. I grow dey learn say person fit dey alive and still dey lonely. Some people just no get mama luck.

She prefer pikin wey fit dey call her "mummy" sweetly, even if na her stepdaughter.

When I go her new house, I see as she dey smile for another girl, dey pet am, dey buy ice cream. I just waka pass, no even look her face.

Before long, her Facebook full of another girl—the daughter the rich man ex-wife born.

Dem dey pose for picture like say dem be family for magazine. If you see caption, you go think say na heaven send them join.

Her name na Amara, fine and shining.

She get that yellow pawpaw skin, her lashes long like say she fix am. For school, everybody sabi her as the girl wey dey set trend. You know those kind girls wey dey always wear matching hair bead and earring? Na she.

My mama half-hug her, while Amara dey form pout, her fake smile full of beef.

Any time I see their picture, my body dey bite me. That half-hug, e be like say my mama dey share love in small small sachet. Amara dey look camera, dey squeeze mouth like say she no get joy.

For the first time, another person smile pain me.

I just dey look, dey wonder why the thing dey pain me. Maybe because I know say na my own mama. But for Naija, dem go say make you bear am, na so life be.

Life just dey plain.

Days just dey pass, nothing dey sweet me, nothing dey move me. I go wake, eat, read, sleep—repeat. No ginger.

My only joy na to find people wey fit shake my emotion small.

So, sometimes I go watch people fight, dey look if my body go even feel pity. But most times, na just empty space for chest. I dey find person wey fit make me vex or laugh for real.

So, I move and buy small flat for school area, transfer go the same school where Amara dey.

I use the card my mama drop, rent one self-con for outskirts of campus. People dey ask why I leave my mama house, I just smile. For that area, small flat dey mean small wahala. My plan na to dey close to Amara, see how life go play.