The days passed away uneventful. I didn't cry on reaching home. I was just furious, hurt and offended. The one person that made me see good in myself just called me a seductress. The universe was definitely against my happiness. But I didn't cry. That would be stupid.

Demola threw a little party in honour of his admission on Sunday night at one club. I wasn't eighteen but somehow I managed to attend. We drank and danced and had fun. Some even thought it was nice to get high. I was like the youngest there though I knew most people there. Little piece of advice: never party with drunk/high adults or you'll have nightmares. I saw things that night.

In the blink of an eye, it was morning. God knows that I didn't even feel like getting up that morning. I sat up and glanced at the clock.

6:37

Damn!. Then I felt the first pound. It was brutal. I wondered what on earth drove me to drinking so much when I knew I would go to school today. Somehow, alcohol didn't get me drunk easily. The closest I have ever been yo getting drunk was being cursed with headaches and sometimes throwing up out of the blues. My body system was quite weird. I dragged myself up from my makeshift bed. I realised Dinma was still snoring beside me. My head wasn't aching so bad but I hated headaches. I took a cup of water before staggering to the bathroom. I had to wait for two people before I eventually took my bath.

I glanced at the clock again as I came into the room.

6:59

I was done for. I quickly brushed my teeth and took bread and tea. I dressed hurriedly before popping three tablets of paracetamol into my mouth.

When I got to school, it was already eight thirty. The school compound was empty, well everyone was in class. I quickly rushed to the class before any teacher would spot me. I had never been been late before so I didn't know what they did to late comers.

Ms. Daniels was teaching English when I got to the class. I used my handkerchief to wipe my sweat first before entering the class. I could feel the whole class' eyes on me.

"Good morning Ms. Daniels," I greeted slowly going to my seat.

"Good morning dear," she said. "It's unlike you to be late."

"I was busy last night so I woke up late this morning," I replied. It was the truth after all.

"Invite us for the naming ceremony o" . I realised it was Jude. That boy was something else. I wasn't angry, I was just amused.

"Jude you're sick," Ms. Daniels laugh.

I got to my seat and opened my bag only to find out that I wasn't with my English note. Then it dawned on me that I didn't bring back my notes I took home on Friday. And most were Monday notes. I wanted to read them. I just brought out my jotter to write.

After the whole thread of classes, it was finally break time. Before the teacher could even leave the class, Amanda announced that everyone should submit the Economics assignment. And as you may guess I wasn't with my note. And to make matters worse the assignment carried marks. But what could I do?

"Naya, where's your assignment?" She asked me balancing a pile of notes on her left hip. I admired her hair. She stylishly packed her afro and it was beautiful.

"I didn't bring it."

Her eyes widened behind her glasses. "Why?"

"Because I forgot ni"

"Check your bag well. You can't forget this assignment," she insisted.

"I didn't bring it." I told her.

"If you say so," she said and walked away from my side.
Immediately she left, I started feeling nauseous. I guessed the drink was still affecting me. I made to go to the toilet when Jessica joined me.

"How excited are you about the tutor session? You're starting today right?" She asked walking with me.

I rolled my eyes at her question but answered anyway, "I don't know if we're starting today. Remember Vincent stormed off so we didn't finalise the whole thing."

"Oh. Right." Immediately I got into the bathroom, I vomited into the sink.

"Oh my God Naya!" She cried running out of the toilet. I would have laughed if another round didn't come.

"Nairobi are you done?" I heard Jessica's voice from outside. I rinsed the sink then rinsed my mouth and face before answering.

She opened the door slowly making me laugh. "Jessica you're so funny. You ran outside like I just showed you a dead body."

"You don't expect me to watch you vomiting," she said her face showing disgust. I shrugged and came out of the toilet.

"Do you need to go to the nurse?" She asked.

"Nah. It's probably because I dra–dreamt I ate in the dream," I lied. Don't judge me.

"So you vomit when you eat in the dream?" She mused.

"Sometimes." She shook her head but said nothing more.

"Nairobi, Ms. Daniels is looking for you," Nmesoma told me. When I got to class, I saw Vincent leaning on the wall arms folded across his chest.

"Ma you called," I said sitting down.

"Yes. You didn't give me the account number."

"Oh. Em–" I scratched my head. "–I didn't bring it. I'll give it to you tomorrow."

"No problem. I hope you remember that you guys are starting today?"

"Yes. So. . .are we still doing the weekend work. At his house?"

"Of course. His father said there's no problem with that," she said standing up. I looked over at Vincent. He did look like he wanted to protest. "So I'm going to see the vice principal now. I want to ask for permission on your behalf to be able to use the library and computer room." She said before leaving. Vincent hissed when she left and pushed himself off the wall. I looked at him.

"What?" He asked me, scorn evident in his voice.

Wow. I just concluded that would definitely take divine intervention and a potent strong juju to help us survive the tutorials

"Nothing." I stood up and after some thinking decided to go to the art studio. The creative art teacher, Mr. Ola for the junior class was there. He was on earpiece as usual. Sometimes I wondered if the man was planning on going deaf before seventy. When I tapped him, he jumped but then relaxed when he saw me.

"You scared me."

"Sorry sir. I'm here to complete my sketch," I told him. Mr. Akin had told me that if I was ever filling creative, I could come to the studio and make magic. Regal High gave student the liberty to use the studio and school provided art materials. There was no way I was going to pass on such an interesting opportunity.

Though the ticket to this opportunity was showing at least one of the art teachers your skill.

After making a pencil drawing of one of Mr. Ola's selfies, the man would not stop praising. He even let me spend as much time as I wanted in the inner studio.

Another opportunity I didn't let pass me by easily.

"Sure. No problem." He gave me the keys to the inner studio. I thanked him and went to continue my work. I studied my artwork from the door. It was amazing even if it wasn't complete yet. I was making a pencil and graphite sketch of the school principal and his wife. It was a picture I saw in the school's year book last week. I decided to make a sketch of it and gift it to the principal. I didn't even know what drove me to thinking about that.

I took slow strides to the unfinished work, studied it some more and got it down from the table. I placed it on a donkey before going in search of the pencils.

"Nairobi, is the year book there?" I heard Mr. Ola ask.

I scanned the area. I remembered leaving the yearbook close to my ongoing work but it was no longer there.  "I don't think so sir," I replied.

"Come and take it."

"Check for the pencils and graphite in the lower cabinets on the left," he told me as he handed me the book. I nodded.

"Madam, I've been looking for you since. Good day sir," I heard Stephen's voice say. "May I come in?". Mr. Ola nodded like he couldn't care less then plugged in his ear phones.

"Why?"

"I want to talk."

"About Vincent?"

He gave me a lopsided smile and I had to fight the urge to groan in frustration.

"Oh God. You no dey tire. I'm busy" I told him going to the inner studio.

"With what?" He asked following me.

"Something. Don't follow me," I told him stopping at the entrance.

"I need to talk to you."

"Mr. Ola please tell this boy to leave he's pesteri–" before I could complete my statement Stephen was already inside. Even the man I was talking to was on earpiece.

"Get out of here!" He was hovering over my sketch.

"Wow. Are you the one making this?" He asked looking up at me. I didn't answer him but took quick strides to him.

"Leave! You're disturbing me." He did the exact opposite. He got comfortable on the exact donkey where my drawing was

"Even if it's not complete. It's already dope."

"Thank you. Now leave," I said pulling his arm. He didn't even move.

"When you're done with this one, you'll draw mine please," he pouted, looking up at me with his honey brown eyes.

I had to chuckle. "That's if you get out now."

"Bummer. I want to talk," he said dragging me down, making me sit forcefully on the nearest donkey. I winced.

"Pele. So about Vincent–"

"I don't want to talk na. I'm busy as you can see."

"I just want to tell you to try being nice."

"Am I not 'nice'?" I furrowed my brows at him.

"Well," he dragged, then chuckled. "Not exactly. You take offence easily and you're kind of rude."

"That's if I'm offended," I stated as a matter of fact. "Or can't stand a certain bullshit. I don't like bullshit."

"But-"

"So just tell your boyfriend not to offend me. Let him be nice too."

He frowned. "Don't say that again," he said this with a serious tone.

"Okay sir," I replied not in the slightest bit remorseful

"Trust me. You don't understand Vincent. So I suggest maybe you try to use this time you guys would be spending together to try mend your relationship," he said solemnly.

"Hope you told Vincent this too? Because you guys misunderstand me too." I was scrutinising my sketch now. I could spot a lot of flaws.

"How do you expect us to understand what's going on with you when you're always closing up yourself?"

What exactly was his deal with me closing myself up?

I groaned. Humans could be pests at times.

"Okay I've heard. I'll try to be nice to Vincent but if he acts stupid, I go change am for am."

He laughed. "No problem. I talked to Vincent too."

"Better," I said. I remembered the pencils and went in search of them again.

"You know sometimes I wonder how you know so much slangs and you can speak pidgin so easily," he said.

"Don't you know how to speak pidgin?" I asked still searching for the pencils. Where was he heading with this?

"I do. But whenever you speak it, you speak it like it's your, no offence, mother tongue. Most girls don't even know how to speak it. For example Jessica, she's always speaking and acting like omo London."

I was pretty sure they were forming, pretending. There was no way a Nigerian child, no matter where he or she was raised, would not know any pidgin slangs. It was just impossible. At least that was what I thought.

"That's her business," I shrugged. I finally saw the pencils. "Found it." I announced to no one in particular. I went over to the donkey. "Pass me the sketch please."

I placed it in front of me and opened up the yearbook.

"Nairobi, where do you stay?"

I paused and looked at him, hoping my look was glare enough. "Why are you asking?"

"I just want to know. We don't even know anything about you," he said like he was honestly frustrated.

Oh please.

"It doesn't matter besides I don't know anything about you either," I waved it off easily.

"It does matter. If we want to be better friends we should know at least something about each other. You should be able to confide in me and I in you. I don't care if you stay at Ajegunle or wherever if that's what you think." I stared at him. He seemed sincere.

I thought about it. Knowing where I stayed wasn't really me opening up per se. And since he wanted to know, he could suit himself with the irrelevant piece of information.

"Abuleoshun."

"All the way from satellite town?"

I got pissed all of a sudden. He was judging. He was judging. Why was he judging?.

"You have a problem with that?" I asked, voice plain and void of emotions. I made a big mistake. I shouldn't have said anything. I should have just ignored him and concentrated on my drawing.

"Thank you."

"What for?" I asked. I wasn't working on my drawing. I had paused to look at him, wheels turning in my head as I wondered what he was thanking me for.

"For giving me the hope that we can become good friends one day," he said standing up, a grin on his face.  "It's tiny though. But at least its there," he said again pinching his thumb and index finger.

"See you in class." He finally said and left. I just sat there wondering why he was so interested in making friends with me.