Jessie

KEEP AJA NWACHUKWU HOSTEL CLEAN.

It was the first thing that could be seen upon entrance into my hostel. Chisom and I stood on the front stairs with our backs turned to the doors. Except for the occasional tapping of Chisom's foot on the stair, we made no sound.

"Has that thing been here since 1961?" Chisom asked, pointing to the marble floor where a year had been carved out.

"I dunno. Maybe." I shrugged.

Every hostel had the year it was built written on its front stairs. Mine read 1961.

"What's your room number?" She asked.

The initial excitement of making a new friend was starting to wane and in its wake was left the awkwardness of not knowing what to say or do. I had to give her credit for trying. I liked socialising but I never planned to make an extra friend today.

"Room 220."

Is it too early to ask her to come to my room?

We were doing things a little different than normal but it didn't mean I knew what was expected of me. I turned to look at her, eagerly waiting for her to invite herself into my room, she didn't. I would have to.

The commotion coming from inside of the hostel reached our ears and with a sly smile on both of our lips, we hurried up the stairs.

Past experiences have taught me to get the news from the main source rather than reading about it on The Den Magazine. It was a magazine run by students of Mass Communication that contained all the gists and gossips that went on in our university. 

If you wanted to know how Pedro won the last SUG election by kneeling in front of all the females' hostel, check there. They had almost every information needed about any student who messed up, no one was spared.

Two girls stood on the stairs of the second floor. Girl A held a phone in her hands and Girl B was pointing at the phone, her voice raised as she rolled insults at Girl A.

"This is my phone." Girl A shouted, clutching the phone tighter to her bosom.

"If it's your phone, release it let me see. Ole! Thief! Barawo!" Girl B tried to retrieve the phone from her, all to no avail.

Girl A was bigger, thrice the size of the other girl. If she sat on Girl B, her intestines would come out through her mouth.

No one moved to separate them even as we saw that the brawl was about to get physical. If at all, we were all geared up for a fight, some of us already picking sides.

"You called me a thief?" Girl A eyebrows were raised in shock like she didn't expect to be labelled such a derogatory term, the tips of her fingers repeatedly hitting her chest. "It's your father that is a thief, in fact, your whole generation are thieves."

That sentence was barely out of her mouth when a slap landed on her cheek. The slap was so loud and sudden it got everyone quiet. My heart beat picked up and I bounced on my feet in excitement, Girl B was definitely in big trouble.

The surprise was soon replaced by fury and as Girl A eyes darkened with rage, we got more excited. She smashed the phone on the wall, shattering it to a million pieces then turned to face Girl B. Her clenched fist raised and her lip set in a straight line.

"If you touch that girl, I'll make sure you don't have a room to sleep in." The voice belonging to our one and only killjoy, the porter of our hostel stopped Girl A's fist.

And like Moses in the red sea, we parted for her to walk to the centre of the commotion. We all groaned in disappointment, her presence signified the end of our free live-action movie. 

She noticed the displeasure on our faces and her lips squeezed like those bus conductors in the market after you gave them one thousand naira note for transport fare that was supposed to be fifty naira.

"Just look at them. University students that will be acting like boarding school girls. This is why JAMB needs to stop 16 years old children from coming to the university. Quick quick, disappear from my face."

The crowd that had gathered began to disperse and I pulled on Chisom's hand, weaving our way through the midst of the other girls. This woman was a big buzzkill.

We reached my room shortly and as soon as the door was locked, I burst into laughter. Chisom joined in, letting out a snort that made us laugh even harder.

"Who do you think would have won?" I asked in amusement.

"Hahan. That fat girl na," She replied with a look that said my question was totally unnecessary. "It was obvious."

"It's not by size o." She only shook her head in reply to my statement.

"Hope you don't have an extra roommate?" She asked a few seconds after, making air quotes with her fingers on the word, extra.

"Nope. Just us four."

Our school female hostel ran a system of four girls per room and it was common to see a room with more than the allocated number of students. We often referred to the extras as squatees and it was prevalent with the boys than the girls.

I rolled my eyes as Chisom went straight to a bed with nobody on it, sitting comfortably while smoothing out the creases on the bedsheet. She would understand soon.

"That's not my bed." I corrected.

"This," I said sitting on another bed with my legs crossed over the other and my hands on my knees, "is my bed."

"How come you got that big space? I got a second-year corner." She jutted out her lower lips. "I'm jealous; I want."

In addition to the four people per room system our school operated by, we were also assigned bed spaces that were determined by our year of study. 

"I dunno," I replied with nonchalance.

My uncle might have had something to do with it since he worked in the Student Affairs department. Hence I had gotten a three hundred level student bed space: a big bed and a bigger wardrobe that I didn't have to share with any of my roommates.

Envy was written all over Chisom's face and I stuck my tongue out at her. I would be envious too if I was in her shoes.

The loud ringtone of her phone interrupted whatever remark she was about to make. I tried to peek at the phone screen which showed the image of a light-skinned, handsome guy on a low cut, a real fine boy. His smile showed off his dimples and-

"Greg." Her face lighted up in a smile as she listened to the voice on the other end of the phone, putting a stop to my observations.

The call lasted for longer than I thought it would and I was sure that if I had not started making funny faces at her, she would not have ended the call.

As soon as her phone hit the bed, I tapped her to give me the full gist and my new friend's cheeks turned tomato red.

"Toyin tomato," I teased, calling her by a nickname that I had gotten from one of my childhood soap operas: Super Story. The actress was also fair like Chisom and she would turn red at any slight discomfort.

Chisom laughed, she must have seen the show too, it was really popular back then. She cleared her throat and started on her own version of super story, telling me about how she met Greg. How he was 6'3, clean-shaven, eyes the lightest colour of brown with a speck of green, set of pearly white teeth and other details I didn't ask for.

I half-listened as she carried on, standing up to get packets of Indomie noodles to prepare for both of us. At some point during her ramble, she must have noticed I was no longer paying attention so, she just watched while I added the ingredients to the food. I laughed, I didn't have the mind to tell her that I wasn't that interested in her guy, she had looked so happy talking about him.

"Here." I placed a tray which held a plate of Noodles and a sachet of water in front of her. Today, she was a visitor, next time she came to visit, she would serve herself.

I was about to serve myself when a knock stopped me. I sighed and made a move for the door, hoping it was a short visit from whoever was behind that door because I was not ready to share my Indomie.

When I saw the familiar face standing at the door, I smiled and sent her a warning. "It's a guy o and he's coming in."

I redirected my attention to Somto, my boyfriend who grinned at me. Pushing the door open, I beckoned him in, delighted to introduce him to Chisom.

"Welcome." I heard Chisom say at the same time the noise made by a plate and tray connecting with the carpeted floor reached my ears. I turned instantly only to see the colour drained from her face with her eyes glued to Somto.

Questions that I didn't have the answer to rose in my mind and I cleared my throat noisily, breaking them off from their staring competition. With Usain Bolt speed, Chisom grabbed her bag, sandals and fled the room.

* * *

Ole(Yoruba) = Thief = Barawo (Hausa).

Do you remember super story or any of Wale Adenuga production? If yes, which one was your favourite?