Camon Crush

As soon as I finish washing the plates, I exit the kitchen, wiping my wet hands on my shorts as I go.

Peter and Nonso have already left for school, so it's just me, my mom, and dad.

The silence of the house is deafening, except for the distant hum of the TV in the living room, which only seems to accentuate the stillness.

I walk into the living room, and my eyes land on my mom, engrossed in an Indian movie on the couch.

The ridiculously dramatic dialogue and music make me cringe, my brow furrowed in discomfort.

I walk further into the living room, my feet tapping softly against the tile floor.

"You really love these movies, don't you?" I ask, approaching her, but she doesn't respond, too engrossed in the show.

I wonder why women enjoy watching this. The thought sends my mind racing with frustration, and I clench my fists.

Sometimes I wish I could enter the television and slap every single lead actress, they're so annoying, and I wonder why they always fall victim in every Indian movie.

It's the same tired story plot with different characters, most of the time!

I scoff and shake my head, but then the image of Avin instantly pops into my head, and my frown turns into a smile.

I release my fists and head towards the entrance, where the yellow curtain blocks direct entry.

Its soft fabric brushes against my skin as I pass through.

I sight Avin instantly at the far end of the hall, curled up like a half-moon on his plush red bed.

His tiny paws twitch occasionally, and his soft snout rises with each gentle snore.

He looks so cute and innocent, completely unaware of the world around him.

Avin has been sleeping in our entrance hall for two days and a night, and he cried the first two nights, but surprisingly didn't last night since we had electricity.

He's terrified of the dark.

My dad mentioned someone is building his cage, but I'm unsure when it will arrive.

I'm also curious whether Avin will actually enjoy being caged or if he'll prefer his newfound freedom.

I shrug, "who knows?"

I can't help but smile as I approach him quietly.

But just as I'm about to reach him, he raises his head, his eyes still heavy with sleep, unable to fully lift his gaze to meet mine.

I chuckle at the adorable sight and bend down to sit on the floor, feeling the cold tile beneath me.

I gently stroke Avin's soft head, his fur a soothing balm for my palms.

I playfully boop his nose, feeling the cold wetness, but my eyes widen in surprise as his little mouth opens, as if he wants to nibble on my fingers.

I chuckle and tease him by bringing my hand closer to his mouth, but quickly withdraw it as he snaps his toothless mouth shut.

"You little scamp, Avin! You love to bite, don't you? Is that a trait common in your breed?"

I attempt to pat his head, but he raises his head, mouth still open, as if refusing my touch.

"Come on, Avin, I won't hurt you. I just want to feel your soft fur."

But he suddenly barks loudly, the sound piercing my eardrums.

"Avin, you naughty boy! You learn fast, don't you?"

He lolls his tongue out, staring at me as if he understands my words.

I laugh in surprise, my eyes wide with wonder.

"Oh, Avin! You're growing up so fast! What's your secret?"

I playfully poke his belly side, but he turns his head, ready to nip my finger again.

I quickly pull away, "Avin, what's gotten into you? Why are you in the mood to bite me today?"

I reach out to pat his head once more, and my smile widens as he doesn't pull away.

He's watching me with an adorable smile.

I bring my hand closer, and as soon as I touch his head, he quickly grabs my hand with his mouth.

"Ah! Avin, let go!"

He starts biting my hand, the sensation a tiny bit painful, but also ticklish and warm.

I burst out laughing, pretending to try to pull my hand away, but little Avin refuses to release his grip.

He wraps his tiny paws around my wrists and continues biting me.

"Hahahaha, Avin, stop, stop it...Avin!"

But my smile suddenly fades as the pain becomes more intense, like a series of pinpricks.

I twist my arm to wiggle free, but Avin holds tight.

"Av...ouch!"

The sudden sting makes me pull my arm away quickly, my brows furrowed in surprise.

I examine my wrists, finding them covered in his saliva, snd there are the little marks of his teeth!

I instantly shift my gaze to Avin, who's busy staring at my hand with a doggy grin.

"See what you did, Avin? You bit my hand, and it hurts. Now, guess what?"

I assume his wagging tail and direct gaze at me mean he's asking "what?", so I smirk and rotate my wrist to ease the pain.

"Now it's your turn, I'll give you a bite too!"

I scoop him up in my hands and begin nuzzling his belly with my nose, making him squirm and wriggle.

"You've developed a habit of biting, haven't you? Huh?" I say, but Avin's only response is his playful tiny pants.

Suddenly, a swift and fragrant gust of wind sweeps past my nose, like the swift flight of an eagle.

I slowly place Avin back on his bed and turn my head to identify the source.

It's unmistakably my dad's scent, and I know he's approaching.

The curtain swings open, and my dad emerges, engrossed in his phone.

His shoes click on the floor as he walks into the hall.

He's dressed in black jeans and a white long-sleeved shirt, complemented by his black silk pointy shoes.

He stops walking, and his glasses glint as he raises his gaze to meet mine.

"Daddy, good morning!" I exclaim cheerfully.

"Hmm, morning," he responds.

I turn my attention back to Avin, who's fixated on my hand, the one he bit.

I playfully tap his back, "you silly pup!"

"Amanda," my dad calls out, and I turn to face him with expectant eyes.

"Let's go to the supermarket today."

My upper lip twitches at his words. Really?

My dad owns a large supermarket, "Your World," in the Lagos area, which I've only visited a few times in primary school.

He's never asked me to join him since I started high school, so why now?

"Uhm, Dad, I can't—"

"I knew you'd disagree, and I was even planning to change your phone."

I spring up, eyes wide with excitement, and a broad smile on my face. "Really?"

He clears his throat before responding, "yes."

I rush over to stand in front of him, my eyes shining with excitement.

"You'll get me the phone I've always wanted, right?"

"The Camon 30?" He asks, and I excitedly nod.

I've seen the advert for the Camon 30 on my phone and TV, and I'm captivated by its features.

I'm tired of using my old Infinix Smart 6 and longing for something new and exciting.

"I think you're too young to use that model."

My smile slowly fades at his words, my enthusiasm dampening.

"An iPhone 12 isn't that bad," he adds, his expression softening.

I furrow my brows in annoyance. "No, Dad, I've heard numerous disadvantages about using an iPhone. I'm set on getting a Camon 30."

I take his hand in mine, pouting my lips, and then bat my eyelashes twice, my eyes locked on his.

Having seen Tiwa Savage endorse the Camon 30, I'm more determined than ever to get my hands on one!

His gaze remains fixed on me, as if doubting my intentions.

"Please, Dad. I promise to be an obedient girl. I'll even come with you to the supermarket today. Pretty please?"

He sighs, shaking his head.

"I still think you're too young, and I'm pretty sure your mom won't agree to it."

I tighten my grip on his hand. "Of course, she would! I'm already 17, and soon I'll be 18. I think I'm old enough, Dad."

Our gazes lock, and he sighs again, shaking his head.

"If you're only coming to the supermarket because you want the phone, then you should just stay home."

"But, Dad..."

"I'll get you the phone."

My eyes widen, and a big smile spreads across my face.

"Really?! Thanks a—"

"I'm only doing this because you're going to university soon, and you should have a new phone."

I release his hand and fling my arms around his neck, inhaling the sweet fragrance of his perfume.

"Thanks a lot, Dad," I say, pulling away. 'Thank you so much!"

"It's fine, it's fine. Tell your mom the NEPA bill is on the wardrobe."

I nod happily, "hmm, I will."

With that, he heads towards the exit of the entrance hall, but suddenly turns back to me.

"The man building Avin's cage is done, it'll be delivered today, so don't be surprised if you see a stranger coming in with a cage."

I nod, "no problem, Dad."

He turns around to continue walking but then turns back to me again, this time with furrowed brows.

"By the way, what about your results? Aren't they out yet?"

My heart races instinctively, and my smile fades away. Oh no, I had forgotten!

"Uhm, they said something about it being released, but I want to confirm with the IMSU official."

"Okay, then, let me know what he says."

I nod, "hmm, okay."

Then he turns around and continues walking towards our glass exit door.

My gaze shifts to Avin, who's still looking at me, and the gentle click of the door confirms my dad has left.

I had completely forgotten about my results, consumed by family and Avin.

Gosh, what if the guy has responded? And what if the results are truly out? Would Dad buy me the Camon 30?

I take a deep breath, my arms feeling heavy as I swing them, and reluctantly tear my gaze away from Avin.

I begin walking, my feet feeling like lead, and sweep open the curtain to enter the living room.

The TV blares dramatic dialogue and music, but I ignore it, my eyes fixed on the smooth white floor as I make my way to my room.

I step into the bright corridor, take a few steps forward, and then turn right, heading straight to my room.

I take another deep breath, feeling a sudden urge to use the bathroom, but my hand reaches for the door handle instead.

It's cold to the touch beneath my palm.

I push open the creaky door, holding it steady to muffle the sound.

As I step into my room, the sweet strawberry scent envelops me.

I close the door with a gentle click and make my way to my bed, where my phone lies with its cracked screen facing the ceiling.

I settle into the soft bed, my heart racing, and reach for my phone.

My fingers tremble as I pick it up, but I manage to hold it steady. Why do the results have to be out?

The thought of scoring low, like 76 or worse, sends a surge of anxiety through my hormones.

I hope I didn't fail.

My hands feel cold and clammy as I wipe my lips. Oh heavens.

Before I can even turn on my phone, it automatically comes to life.

I had silenced it, but the fact that it turned on by itself means I have notifications.

I gulp hard, scroll up to input my pin, and unlock the phone.

Then, I unmute it, and the notifications start ringing out.

I recognize the WhatsApp icon at the top of the screen, and my heart skips a beat.

I deliberately avoid scrolling down to click on the message, instead, I go straight to the app.

My thumb trembles as I click on WhatsApp, and my eyes scan the messages on my screen.

The top one is from the group, showing 'Anna bae is typing...' in green writing.

The second message is from the IMSU official, whose words I've been dreading.

And the third is from my sister, Chika, a welcome distraction.

I take a deep breath, moisten my lips with my tongue, and then click on the IMSU official's message.

My heart freezes as I read the words: "Yes, the results are out. And it would cost a sum of one thousand naira to check it for you since you're outside Owerri."

I frown and exclaim, "huh?!"