Chapter 1: Mockery and Secret Sacrifice

Before WAEC wahala even start, everybody for school dey look Halima like queen. But me? Dem think say na mistake I even dey dream about her.

She tear my test paper for front of everybody, her voice sharp with mockery: “When it reach boyfriend matter, abeg no dey look person wey no dey your level—try reason your own face for mirror first.”

I just bone. No need reply.

For their eye, I just be that dull Kunle, the boy wey NEPA bill always carry last, no hope for 200.

But wetin dem no know be say I get one coded system: if I swap my exam points, e go give another person health. All na to save my white moonlight.

Day of university entrance exam, my white moonlight finally get well, and system release me. After I enter Unity University for Ibadan as best student, school belle begin fear…

1.

The day dem drop last mock exam result, everybody rush go corridor to check scores, but me, I just siddon. Sweat smell and chalk dust full the air as boys dey push for corridor, like market women fighting for last piece of meat. For my seat, e be like I dey invisible. The whole class dey noisy. I lower my head, pull one small paper, and begin solve the big question wey teacher give last night.

Soon, people wey don check their position begin come back. Their eyes dey mock me, some dey stretch neck like agbalumo tree, mouth twist as dem try see my face. I hear dem dey whisper:

“Kunle, you dey carry last like NEPA bill!”

“Six subjects join, e still no reach 150—chai. Even if I throw my answer sheet for gutter, step am two times, I go still pass am.”

“But as I see am dey calm, e dey make me relax for exam sha.”

I no send them. My mind dey on chemistry. My biro dey dance, but my spirit dey somewhere else. As dem tire, dem waka go their seats.

As I bend dey write, my seatmate stand up, point my locker. “Guy, wetin be this?”

E reach over like say I be ghost, finger long like okra. Before I fit vex, he pull out one light blue bead.

My heart skip. That bead na from when me and Ifeoma dey play ten-ten for compound—she dash me am, say e go bring luck. I reach for am, vex small.

“Give me back. Na my own.”

My hand dey shake—bead get meaning for me.

But my seatmate no gree. He smile, throw am to another person. The bead begin pass hand to hand. My body dey shake, I wan rush collect am. I hear giggle, some dey mimic my angry face like drama club.

The more I show say I care, the more dem happy. As I dey always quiet, na easy catch I be for bullying. Now as I vex, dem enjoy am.

Suddenly, my seatmate scratch head, talk: “Wait, no be some days ago Halima lose hair bead? E light blue too… She even post am for WhatsApp. This one resemble am. Kunle, na because you like her you thief bead?”

Classroom freeze for one second, then everybody begin whisper. I feel their eyes burn my skin, like dem dey try see my soul.

Halima, the school belle, dey always shine—skin glow like morning sun, uniform and sandals dey clean. Before bell ring, I finally collect bead back.

I no even try explain say e no be Halima own. I clean am, put am for bag. The bead soft for my palm, precious like last born. I hold am tight before I drop am for bag.

But I no expect say before first class for afternoon, Halima go waka enter our class.

I think say she come for another thing, no even look up. My mind dey on my book, pretending like her presence no move me.

But before I know, Halima don reach my desk. She look down at me.

“I hear say… you like me?”

Her voice carry well, so everybody hear. All eyes land on me, like say I dey inside Nollywood spotlight.