chapter eight

Adaora's pov

It's been eight months now. Eight months since Ebuka disappeared from school, eight months since he looked at me like I was something to be feared.

At first, I kept hoping I'd see him again. That one day, he'd return, smiling, acting like nothing had happened. But when I heard his mother had taken him out of the country for more treatment, I knew it was over. He wasn't coming back.

I forced myself to move on. To forget.

But sometimes, at night, when the house was quiet, I'd think about him.

Was he getting better?

Did he even remember me?

What had really happened to him?

I shook the thoughts away. What was the point? Life had moved on, and so had I.

This afternoon, while sitting outside with my friends during break, I was back to my usual self, laughing and joking.

"You must bring Ramadan meat for me ooo!" I teased Zainab, rubbing my hands like an evil villain.

"Hahaha! Adaora, you this girl, you won't change!" she laughed.

"You sef no go chop?" Stella added, giggling.

"No wahala, I go bring plenty for all of you," Zainab promised, flipping her hijab over her shoulder with a playful grin.

We were still laughing when a senior stormed toward us, his face twisted in annoyance.

"What are you all doing outside after break hour?!" he barked.

We froze.

Before we could answer, he pointed at the ground. "Oya, kneel down!"

I felt my stomach drop. This guy is not even a prefect.

"Senior, we—"

"Shut up!" He pulled out a cane from behind his back and started flogging us.

Pain shot up my leg as the cane landed on my skin. I winced, biting my lip to keep from crying out. This is rubbish!

By the time he was done, we were all fuming.

I hissed under my breath the entire day, my mood ruined.

On our way home, Zainab was still complaining.

"Can you imagine? He holds no post o! Just proving senior for nothing."

"He just wanted to show power," Stella muttered.

"Rubbish senior," I spat, rubbing my arm where the cane had landed.

We reached our usual junction, and Zainab waved.

"Bye, Adaora! Don't forget, my Ramadan meat is coming before yours!" she teased.

"In your dreams!" I shot back, forcing a laugh as I walked toward our car.

When I slid into the back seat, Chuka was already inside, blasting music like he was auditioning for an American rap show.

"Lower the volume," I muttered, rubbing my temple.

He ignored me, bobbing his head to the beat.

I sighed, resting my head against the window. The streets blurred past as we drove home.

It had been eight months.

I had moved on.

The evening came with my mum making a delicious meal. We talked, played, and enjoyed the warmth of family before heading to bed.

The next morning, as I got up, I hurried to the bathroom only to find it occupied.

"Chuka!" I screamed, banging on the door. "Get out!"

Inside, I could hear him playing music like he didn't have a care in the world.

"Ooo, Chuka, biko na!" (Please, Chuka!) I begged, stomping my foot.

"Osy!" I called his pet name, softening my tone. "Please na, you know I woke up late."

Still, he didn't come out.

"Daddy! Chuka won't come out!" I whined dramatically.

When he finally stepped out, it was already late. I rushed through breakfast, barely tasting the food, and threw on my uniform.

By the time I got to the car, I was in a hurry, but I still felt happy. The morning sun was bright, and the air smelled fresh. Maybe today would be a good day.

That was until Chuka started singing.

I frowned. "I hope it's people with ear problems you plan to sing for,people who can't hear. Because this your frog voice will definitely destroy their ears."

We started arguing, throwing insults back and forth.

"Hey, hey, hey! Ọ gaghị ezu?" (Won't you stop?) My mum finally snapped in Igbo, giving us both a sharp look.

I folded my arms and looked away as Chuka grinned in victory.

When I got to school, I spotted Zainab, Ifeoma, and Stella standing together. The moment they saw me, they stopped talking and exchanged weird looks.

"What?" I asked, stepping closer.

"Have you heard?" Ifeoma asked in a hushed voice.

"Heard what?"

Zainab's eyes widened. "Senior Adam is in the hospital. He was rushed there this morning."

"Wait—what? Which Adam?" I asked, confused.

"The same one who flogged us yesterday," Stella clarified.

I blinked. "H-how? What happened?"

"They said he was flogged almost to death."

I gasped. "What?"

Zainab folded her arms. "They said he was bleeding, but—" she leaned in, lowering her voice, "—nobody saw who was beating him."

A chill ran down my spine.

"Wow," I whispered, glancing at them.

Zainab scoffed. "Why are you pitying him? He's wicked anyway."

Stella hummed in agreement. "Abi o. Maybe it's karma."

But my mind was spinning.

What really happened?

And why did I suddenly feel strange?

After weeks of the whole Adam situation, things slowly returned to normal or at least, as normal as they could be.

Surprisingly, I was doing really well academically. Like, really well.

Even when I barely read, my grades just kept coming back with A's. It was almost weird.

At first, I thought it was luck, but every test, every assignment, every quiz—somehow, I aced them all. I won't lie, I enjoyed it, but deep down, I felt like I didn't really deserve it.

Now, exam time was here.

I barely read. Again. But I figured I'd be lucky like before.

Ifeoma, Stella, and Zainab gathered around me during break, looking at me expectantly.

"Adaora, come and pick questions again na," Ifeoma said, nudging me.

"You know your mouth has some kind of power," Stella added, smirking.

Everyone laughed.

Each time I casually picked an area of concentration or randomly mentioned a topic, that exact thing would appear in the exam.

It happened so often that my friends stopped believing it was a coincidence.

"Biko, do it again," Zainab begged. "I don't know what I'm reading."

"It's true oo!" Stella nodded. "Remember that time in Mathematics? You just picked up the textbook, ticked the easy questions at the back, and said, 'These questions are so simple and not complex. If only they'd give us simple things like this.'"

I remembered.

"And shocking," Ifeoma continued, "those exact questions became our exam questions!"

I swallowed.

They all stared at me expectantly.

"Abeg, Adaora, pick again!" Zainab pleaded.

I hesitated.

It was all just luck, right?

After exams, just as I had said, all the topics I picked for reading actually came out.

It was crazy.

We were all so happy and relieved we would definitely pass!

To celebrate, my friends and I decided to take pictures and then go out to eat.

As we sat together, laughing and chatting, Stella suddenly raised her glass.

"Cheers to us!" she declared. "Next term, we're seniors!"

"Seniors!" we echoed, clinking our glasses together.

We spent the rest of the time talking, teasing each other, and enjoying the moment.

By the time we all headed home, I was still smiling.

The happiness stayed with me.