Blackmail

It was afternoon, and Daddy and I were playing snooker in the courtyard. Of course, he was winning. Every time he made a shot, he'd puff out smoke from his thick brown cigar like he was some kind of big shot, grinning like he was the king of the world.

"Are you making fun of me, Daddy?" I asked, squinting at the table like I was really thinking hard, but let's be real—I didn't want to look like I was losing that badly.

"Not my fault I'm just better at this," he said, his grin spreading even wider.

I took my shot, and the white ball barely brushed the red one before it rolled off into oblivion. I groaned. So typical.

"How's work?" I asked, acting casual. "Being a big minister and all must be... exhausting."

Daddy's grin faded a little, and he puffed his cigar slower, like he was thinking about something. His shoulders slumped, and I could tell this was about to get all "serious."

"There's been another scandal," he said, his voice getting darker. "The presidency called this morning. There's a huge deficit—money that should've gone to the Revenue Allocation Committee. It's... missing."

I blinked. "How much?"

"About a billion dollars," he said, lining up his shot with that super intense focus he gets when he's being all important.

I raised an eyebrow. "Lucky whoever got that money. I wish that kind of free money would just fall into my lap too."

Daddy shot me a look, but I wasn't scared. "Ada. This isn't a joke. That money was supposed to go to the people—the ones who are struggling. If I find the person who did this..." He jabbed his cue at the table, his voice all serious. "I'll make them pay."

I rolled my eyes. "Relax, Daddy. I'm not laughing. I just think it's impressive, that's all. You know how it goes. If one person didn't do it, someone else would've. That's how messed up the politics in this hellhole kinda is."

His expression softened a tiny bit, but it wasn't like I was bothered. He took another puff of his cigar, then muttered, "That's not the point."

I bit my lip, pretending to care. "Do they think it's you?"

He didn't answer right away. He sank another ball—perfect shot, of course—before he straightened up, brushing the ash off his fingers.

"Yes," he said, his voice quiet but heavy.

I stared at him like he was kidding. "That's just stupid," I said, rolling my eyes. "You'd never—"

"Of course not," Daddy snapped, cutting me off. "But people don't need proof to ruin a reputation. The ministry's already under the microscope, and I'm the easiest target."

I laughed, like it was all just a game. "Seriously, Daddy? They know better than to mess with us. You know how powerful you are. Nobody's dumb enough to believe that. You're not some random guy—you're... well, you."

I could tell he wasn't convinced, but I didn't care. I forced a smile. "How about I make us dinner tonight, Daddy? My treat."

He looked at me like I just told him I was going to build a spaceship. "No, honey, that's really not—"

"Relax, Daddy. It'll be fine. It won't be like last time," I said, already bouncing toward the kitchen like nothing was wrong.

He groaned behind me. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of."

---

The next day, Aisha and I were standing outside the principal's office, just waiting for something interesting to happen. The hallway was as dead as usual, except for our whispers and the irritating buzz of the air conditioner.

"Mine's going to have blond hair and green eyes," Aisha said, grinning like she was in some fantasy movie. "An assassin by night, a doctor by day."

I snorted. "Good luck with that. You think we're gonna find some guy that specific? Do you honestly think our parents will let us marry some white boy?"

Aisha gave me this look like I was an idiot. "Who cares what they think? We'll just dip and elope."

"Elope?" I laughed in her face. "Have you met my grandmother? She'd hunt me down like a dog, throw me in a sack, and drag me back for one of her endless lectures about bloodlines."

Aisha folded her arms, putting on the most serious face she could muster. "Then we'll start a rebellion. We'll march in the streets with posters and scream 'Down with parental oppression!'"

"That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen," I said, grinning. "We'd end up in juvie so fast."

"Exactly! Just imagine the headlines—'Teen rebels fight for freedom!' We'd be famous."

Before I could throw in another sarcastic comment, the intercom crackled to life.

"Ada. Aisha. Please come in."

We exchanged a quick look—like, yeah, we were totally not worried—and then strutted into Mrs. Ailatu's office. She was sitting behind her desk, trying to look all professional, but she looked like she was about to pass out from exhaustion.

"Sit," she said, motioning to the chairs.

Aisha and I didn't just sit. We flopped into the chairs like we owned the place, kicking our feet up on her desk at the exact same time.

Mrs. Ailatu raised an eyebrow, clearly not impressed. "Girls, this is not—"

"Ma'am, you should really take care of that cough," I said, all sweet and innocent. "You really shouldn't overwork yourself. It's bad for your health."

Aisha gasped like she was starring in a drama. "Ada! Look at her face! Do you think her throat just exploded?"

I slapped my hand over my mouth, pretending to be shocked. "Oh no. Poor Mrs. Ailatu. What if everyone thinks we made her sick?"

"Enough games, girls," Mrs. Ailatu snapped, though I could see the corners of her mouth twitching. She was trying so hard not to laugh. "Let's get to business."

She grabbed a folder from her desk and pulled out a little camera. My stomach did a flip. I knew where this was going.

"Let me guess," Aisha said, pretending to be serious. "Blackmail?"

Mrs. Ailatu smiled like she was loving this moment. "Nothing that dramatic. I need volunteers to help guide the new students this term. And you two are perfect for the job."

"No way!" Aisha shot back instantly. "Not happening."

Mrs. Ailatu just smirked and waved the camera in front of us. "Shall I send this footage to the disciplinary committee? I'm sure they'd love to see how you're treating me."

Aisha clenched her fists, but I didn't even bother trying to pretend I cared. Here we go again.

"Fine," I said, rolling my eyes like it was the biggest chore ever. "We'll do it."

"Good girls," Mrs. Ailatu said, practically glowing with satisfaction. "Be here at 7:30 tomorrow morning. Don't be late."

As we walked out, Aisha muttered under her breath, "That bitch."

I totally agreed.