Sir Archibong, the biology teacher, threw his arms around making so many explanatory gestures as he explained his topic. My eyes just followed the movements of his hands and lips without me really grasping what he was saying. When the man turned to note something on the white board, my mind wandered again.

Your mama call. . .

For close to two weeks the damned revelation kept playing in my head.

Your mama call. . .

Why?

Dinma didn't help matters. 'Your mama call' was the only piece of information the woman gave me. She didn't say when she called, why she called, what she said. . .Nothing. She just told me that my mother called and up till today she hadn't mentioned anything concerning my mother or her call. It was like she had even forgotten that ever happened.

I didn't know why but I was pissed. So pissed.

Why on earth did she call?

I had asked myself this question times without number and got no answer and it pissed me. I would have asked Dinma but I didn't want to. I was willing to let it become nothing but a fickle memory. Those seconds of that Saturday never happened.

"Chielo."

I blinked back to the present and looked up at sir Archibong who had paused his movements. "Sir?"

"Answer the question."

Question?

"Sir. . .I didn't get the question," I said slowly, standing up as was mandated when answering a question. I noticed Vincent watching me from his corner of the biology lab. He watched me too much nowadays, more like observed, like he wanted to know something more. He turned away when I caught his eyes and I turned my attention back to the biology teacher standing in the front.

"What were you thinking about? Your husband and children?" He teased.

I wish.

"No sir. I will pay more attention now."

The man nodded and gestured for me to sit while Nmesoma, Israel's girlfriend from the art class answered the question.

Because Regal high made biology compulsory for every arm just like religious studies, we were having a joint class with ss2 silver, the art class. The biology lab was built like the chemistry lab, four individuals per table and I was seated in between Chijioke, who listened with rapt attention to and jotted down everything Sir Archibong said, and Damilare, who preferred doodling figures on his biology note. An albino boy from the Art class sat beside Damilare.

On the table in front of us sat Amanda, Peter, Aliyah and Lydia. Jessica hadn't resumed and it was a bit worrying. I was glad that Amanda and Aliyah were still close despite the breakup. And the past two weeks, I had noticed that Amanda and Peter were closer. I wondered why.

I dragged my attention from them to Damilare's notebook. The boy was lowkey turning his note into some kind of comic book, littering OCs and speech bubbles everywhere.

"So you draw?" I mumbled under my breath, not really expecting him to hear me. I wasn't ready for a conversation while a class was going on.

"Yep. Just when I'm bored to death though," he answered pausing his sketch to look at me.

I gasped at the audacity. "Sir Archibong is not boring."

"I'm an Art student. You don't expect me to enjoy a science subject."

"Biology is about life. I don't see anything wrong with everyone offering biology. What about religious studies that was made compulsory?–"

"I actually don't see anything wrong with that. It teaches everyone more about their religion," he shrugged.

"Not everyone is religious."

He seemed to think for a while. "Right."

The bell for long break and end of class rang. Students stood up from their stools making a hell lot of noise. Damilare closed his notebook.

"Till later," he said before leaving the lab with the albino.

"I'm needed in the library," Chijioke told me as he picked up his note. I nodded in response. As usual, I was waiting for the place to be a bit empty before leaving.

"Naya." I looked up and Amanda waved. Aliyah waved too while Chioma said hi. Peter wasn't with them.

"Hey." I greeted, trying to smile. They walked past my table and I released a breath I didn't know I was holding.

I sat there till the lab was empty or so I thought.

"No lunch today?" I turned, startled, to where the voice came from. Vincent was leaning on the door frame.

I turned away from him. "What are you doing here?"

"Asking if you're having lunch today," he answered.

I rolled my eyes and stood up to meet him at the door. I poked his chest with my index finger. "I'm not your friend Vince. Stop concerning yourself about me."

In reality, I was actually enjoying the new relationship with Vincent but I wasn't ready to make it seem so mostly because I still couldn't comprehend the whole idea of being friends with Vincent Adebayo. We still had to work on avoiding our petty arguments and being able to have long conversations without falling into silence.

Vincent wrapped surprisingly warm finger around my index and pushed it back. I twitched at the contact.

"Well, this is me, a student, being concerned about my teacher," he told me.

I rolled my eyes again and shook my head. "I'm going to the class abeg." I said and walked past him.

When I got to our class, I placed my head on my table as I took a nap just to ignore the hunger pang in my stomach. Someone tapped my shoulder lightly and I was tempted to ignore but the person persisted.

I gazed up at the intruder with a scowl. Vincent was standing beside me with his hands at his back. "What?"

He stretched out a nylon bag to me. "I got you something. I didn't see you in the cafeteria."

I eyed the bag. "Maybe I didn't come because I wasn't hungry."

"Maybe." Vincent dumped the nylon on my desk. "Eat up. You know you'll be stuck with me after school."

Right. We were having our after school tutorials but unlike last term, I told Vincent that this time around it had to be everyday. He surprisingly, or maybe not surprisingly obliged.

My hunger at that moment superseded my pride so I opened the nylon and studied its content. There was a foiled plate of spaghetti and sardine and a canned coca-cola.

"Thank you," I said sincerely.

Vincent nodded and left my side.

*

I watched Vincent as he attempted a past question on chemistry. It was just two theory questions that he had been solving for an hour. I just returned from studying the bookshelves, something I did just to pass time and he was still staring, brows furrowed, into the past question booklet.

"You're not done?"

Vincent sighed and leaned back on his chair. "I seriously don't know what I'm doing."

I just shook my head. I took both the past question and his work book to look through it and know what advice to give.

"Do you think we would write the GCE or mock exams?" Vincent asked me as I looked through his work.

"I'm not the school."

Vincent didn't say anymore. I sighed in slight frustration as I looked through Vincent's workbook. I had explained this calculation as best as I could and he still couldn't get it. When it came to science subjects, Vincent was really terrible. If I was him, I would have switched to art not even commercial. It's not like art is easier than science but failing a supposed to be easy calculation over and over again is very frustrating. How was Vincent even coping?

"Vincent," I called. Dark brown eyes looked up and concentrated on me. "What's your ambition? Why are you doing science?"

Vincent blinked rapidly at my question. He hadn't expected the question.

He seemed to think for a while.

"Well, my mother wanted to have a Biomedical Engineer in the family," he  said. "I want to study biomedical engineering." His hesitation and uncertainty was as clear as day.

This was the reason he didn't want to withdraw from science class? Because of what his mother wanted? What about himself? What did he want? Why was this boy punishing himself?

"But don't-"

"What about you?" He interrupted me. It was so obvious that he didn't want me to ask him anything concerning his ambition again.

"I. . .I d-on't know yet." Vincent looked at me with a look of unbelief. "No. It's not like I don't know yet. I know it's related to health, medicine-"

"That's why you're always with a medical brochure."

I smiled at the thought that he actually noticed. "Yeah. I want to be a gynaecologist. But I'm always thinking paediatrics but I don't really like kids."

"Really? But you seem to like Constance."

"I like Constance but I grew around annoying tiny demons disguised as kids so. . ." I chuckled lightly at that. Even Vincent shook his head at my description. "But I can get over that to help them. I basically just want to help people at least."

"Oh and I'm also considering psychotherapy."

Vincent stared at me. Confusion suddenly contorted his face. "What?" He scoffed. "Why would you want to be a therapist?"

"Well-"

"You want to listen to strangers drop all the shit going on in their head on your table and them expecting 'it's all going to be great one day'."

"Not exactly-"

"You want some random person to come and weigh you down with their burdens when you would definitely have your own problems. Double portion of problems, that's what you want?"

"No. That's not how it is." I paused and watched Vincent.

Was this what he thought of therapy? Was that why he stopped going for therapy? Did he think he was unnecessarily burdening someone else?

"Is that what you think? Is that why you ran away from therapy the first time?" I asked him.

It was as if Vincent totally shut down when I asked him that. I couldn't see any sign that he was breathing. His facial expression was zero. Vincent just stared at me, face dead and expressionless. It was like a statue was sitting with me.

Did I ask a wrong question?

"Vinc–"

"How did you know about my therapy?"

I looked away from his face to his work book. Damn, I always say the wrong things.

"I stopped therapy for the first time because I was sick of it. I didn't like feeling like a burden."

A therapist shouldn't make him feel like that. "A therapist would never-"

"If apparently a fellow human could help me, then most definitely I could help myself." He then smiled a little. "But it has been going well recently."

Believable. The results were glaring. Vincent had changed. "That's good to know." I replied with a friendly smile.

After the lesson, Vincent and I left the library together. I locked the huge wooden door and placed the key in the pocket of my blazer. The librarian wasn't feeling so patient so she left and told me to drop the key with the head janitor or take it home if he wasn't around.

"Nairobi," Vincent called as we walked out of the school building, breaking the silence that dwelt between us.

"Yes?"

"Have you ever lost someone close?"

I wanted to talk about Richard. But comparing Richard's leaving to his mother's didn't seem like the right call so I said no.

"Why do you ask?" I asked him.

He buried his hands in the pockets of his trousers. "Never mind."

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A bientot.