Chapter 1: Forbidden Fruit

The summer I turn eighteen, na Segun first show me wetin e mean to chop forbidden fruit—wetin elders dey warn make pikin no touch.

That period, rain dey fall like say heaven wan wash away all our wahala. Everywhere smell of wet sand and burning mosquito coil, thunder dey roll like agbero for junction. But the heat for my chest na another thing. Even the way Segun carry himself that day—smell of Lynx mixed with that local deodorant boys dey rush—still dey my nose. I dey try hide my smile for inside house, dey roll for bed dey imagine am, but if anybody ask me, I go just do like say I dey read for exam. I dey bite my finger, dey pray make Mama no notice say my face dey shine. For Naija, this kind secret dey heavy for body, but na the first time wey I feel say maybe God finally answer my prayer.

Even though e pain me well well, for inside my mind, I dey happy all night, dey reason say my six years crush don finally pay.

As I dey hug pillow for midnight, I dey replay everything for my head—Segun soft voice for my ear, the way him eyes shine under that small bulb for his room. My heart dey do yam pounding, my skin dey catch goosebumps. If not say light dey blink, I for don write am for diary. For Naija, girl no dey quick get this kain chance, na why I dey thank God small small under my breath.

Until the next day, as I waka pass, I hear him guys dey yarn:

My heart miss one beat as I hear dem voice dey echo from inside corridor. For Naija, gist dey travel fast pass NEPA bill, and boys no get filter. I try waka like person wey no hear, but everywhere just dey too loud.

"Not bad o, the class belle don help you break your fast!"

My legs freeze, I fit smell that old chalk for classroom, even my palm begin sweat. I carry my bag tight like say e fit hide my shame. I hear chair squeak as dem adjust body, dem laughter just dey cut my skin.

One boy cut in sharp-sharp, mouth like razor: "Abeg, Sade don chop breakfast, e remain dinner—who dey next?"

Shame catch me, I wan just waka comot quietly, na im I hear Segun reply anyhow:

"I wan chase school beauty, but I dey fear say she go think say I no get experience. So I use Sade practice first!"

Na that moment I know say my matter don cast. The words heavy like yam for market wey dem no sell. Even the air for that corridor thick—no breeze, only hot shame dey blow.

I no talk anything. For that last minute, I quietly change my university application from Abuja to Port Harcourt.

I stand for corridor, heart dey pound, dey wonder if to beg or to slap person. My leg dey heavy, but pride dey drag me go.

I just dey thank God say I still get sense to fit change am. As I dey tap phone for cyber cafe, my hand dey shake. I reason say, this Lagos no be my own again. Port Harcourt fit wash this kain memory comot. Na there I go get fresh start.