Read the previous chapter here
YASMAN'S POV:
.
.
.
As soon as the girls' bell rang, the prefects seated in front of us gathered their books and headed to their respective blocks before prep was over. It was a moment for celebration. The entire class stowed their books in their lockers, except for the bookworms.
The girls had their prep sessions in the school library, while we had ours in the area classrooms. The "Ladies First" rule was strictly observed here, with only rare exceptions. It was ladies first in most school activities.
"Man, there's still a prefect in their class," Ramadan reported after checking on Yazeed in their classroom. I wanted to give him a final warning to stay out of my way.
My suspension ended today, and tomorrow would be Monday. I wished there was a way to escape tomorrow's assembly. I dreaded reading my letter of apology in front of the whole crowd; they were such hypocrites.
I couldn't turn a blind eye to what Huzzy did. Otherwise, I might have considered his place in the BAES. How dare he stand up against me? I would make him pay, no matter what.
"Preppppppp!! Over!" The class childishly shouted, as they always did when prep was over. Come on, we've been doing this since we were Zumas;
"it's time to outgrow some habits."
I sluggishly dragged my legs to the hostel area and laid down on my bunk. I had been at my friend's house for the entire week of detention. My parents would have been furious if I had gone back home, and I wasn't ready to jeopardize their trust. I had to maintain a good image with them, no matter what.
I closed my eyes to sleep when I heard loud banging and shouting:
"Chad-Benue, all run out! 1... 2... 3..."
They were counting quickly, and like a thunderstorm, all the students scattered and lined up according to their classes before the prefects on duty, except for the SS2 students who were escorted out of their rooms with branches, and a few of us from SS1.
"Tomorrow is what?" They asked, pointing their sticks at us.
For as long as I could remember, my teachers had taught me about rhetorical questions—questions that didn't demand answers. Answering their rhetorical question would make me a bad student, but some students would choose to be bad students no matter what.
"Monday!" The unruly students chorused and answered.
"Tomorrow is what?" They asked again. And the unruly students answered once more.
The second time, they realized that there were some obedient students among us.
"JSS3 downward, keep quiet," the seniors said, fuming with rage.
"SS2, SS1, tomorrow is what?" They asked, now directing the question to us, the obedient students specifically. As if we were told to answer our deaths, none of us attempted to answer.
"All of you, lay flat!" one of them shouted, going over our heads with branches, and the rest followed.
"Tomorrow is what?" He asked for what seemed to be the last time.
I knew we weren't going to spend the night there. Let's see who would get tired first.
"For the very last time, tomorrow is what?" He asked again, this time, meaning it to be the last chance, or so it seemed.
"Mooodeehh," the SS1 and a few from the SS2 mumbled, using a word that didn't exist in the dictionary but accepted it as "Monday." It was the same word they replied to their seniors when they were Zumas.
Anyways, you reap what you sow.
"Tomorrow is Monday," he continued, "Morning assembly starts at exactly 6 AM. Please, allow me to catch anyone lingering in the hostel by that time, and see how I use them as a scapegoat." I could see fear in the Zumas' eyes, but all I saw in that threat was an empty one. I needed real consequences.
They continued with their usual threats and later said we may leave, keeping the SS2 students behind.
"So, una don dey grow wings, abi?" We heard them shouting at the SS2 students.
"Don't be late tomorrow, or we'll make an example out of you," they called them all sorts of names before telling them to frog-jump back to their rooms.
Just as we lay down to sleep, they entered our rooms once again, shouting:
"Marry your bed! Marry your bed!!"
"Well, they might as well have told us to kiss our pillows," I told the guy below me and closed my eyes to sleep.
The night was short. It felt like I had just shut my eyes to sleep, and now it was morning. I grabbed some snacks and sneaked out of the hostel because I had no intention of cleaning. I returned when I saw the staff heading towards the assembly ground and followed suit. I had wanted to skip the assembly, but that would have added more trouble.
I became the center of attention when the discipline master made me come forward; all eyes were on me as if I had a new face.
As I read out the apology letter, I wished there was a part of me that felt remorse for what I had done. But I felt nothing; it was as if I was just reciting, devoid of any emotion.
I locked eyes with Minal as I read out the apology, and I could see her disappointment. Huzzy and Yazeed seemed pleased, happy that they got what they wanted.
My two weeks of labor were announced after that. The labor master was not someone to be trifled with, or else I would have tried to avoid it.
The assembly ended with the SS3 students staying behind with the staff, while we made our way to our respective classes. I saw Minal walking with Suffy to class and hurried over to where they were. At least I shouldn't be the villain in her eyes as well.
"Hey!" I called out.
"Hey, what brings you here?" She asked, her tone laced with an air of suspicion.
"Actually, I wanted to congratulate you. I heard you got selected for the SS1 queen's contest," I changed the topic from apologizing for what I did to congratulating her. It wasn't the right time to argue with Minal.
"Thank you." Her response sounded more like a question. She excused herself and went into their class. All the while, Suffy stared at me like a witch. I knew she never liked me.
How I loathed that girl.
HUZZY'S POV:
.
.
.
"Today's social night is going to be lit," Hamza said, as usual, imitating an American accent.
I had just joined them in the backyard for cleaning after I had called my parents a hundred times to remind them that today was visiting day. I couldn't shake off the anticipation of seeing my parents after what felt like forever.
"Huzzy, what song are you performing tonight?" Abdurrahman asked as I picked up a broom to start sweeping.
Actually, the entire SS1 Chad house was outside the backyard cleaning in preparation for the parade inspection, except for Nafiu and Umar, who were cleaning the toilets. All the others were here, except for Sultan, who thought he was better than everyone else and didn't say a word the entire time.
"I'm not very good at singing. What do you suggest?" I replied.
"I have one of the latest songs in mind. I know you'd love it," Nasir suggested as he brought out a list of songs.
"Wow, you sure are something else," Rabe joked, and we all laughed. Nasir and I clicked well; he had good taste in entertainment and kept up with the latest trends.
"Guys, guys, I made friends with a new student in our class," Ja'afar said, grinning through his glasses, as he announced his new alliance.
"O boy! My celebrity friend will soon be introduced to her," Yusuf joked, pretending to wipe imaginary tears from his eyes as he hugged Ja'afar. Ja'afar pushed him away and called him Dan-Hass, one of the college slangs for "Bad-Belle." While Ikechikwu and Paul argued about who would dance with Grace at the social night, Isma'il and Aminu egged them on. The two of them were like our house's Tom and Jerry, always finding humor in everything.
SS2 did most of the work, and we returned to the hostel to practice more for the parade inspection. We had been at it for the past week, but I still hadn't mastered some of the moves. I was lucky to be in the middle, as the students in front were severely scolded for not following the right steps. After endless rehearsals, we did "rubs and shine" and put on our full stockings before heading to the school field for more practice.
All six houses were fully dressed, bright, and beautiful. The girls looked especially lovely. We met them practicing in the field. While some of the SS3 students lay on their blankets to sleep, the house captains and a few of them inspected us one last time. We were arranged by height this time, and luckily, I was tall enough to be in the midst of the SS2 group, while some found themselves with the Zumas. It was quite a sight.
The girls went first, moving gracefully as if they were dancing, and we followed suit. Starting with Rima-Nger, then Chad-Benue, and finally Katagum-Jama'are. We always went in pairs according to our hostel names. The school's clubs followed suit, beginning with the Red Cross, the Boys Scouts, the Girls Scouts, and finally the Cadet Boys. I enjoyed every bit of their performances, with the Cadet Boys receiving the most applause and fanfare.
We all gathered at the assembly ground, each holding a banner representing our houses, with the girls standing nearby.
The senior boarding house master gave his speech, reminding everyone to behave their best because our parents were visiting today. He emphasized the prohibition of contraband or anything related, threatening severe punishment for violators. He made other remarks before the parade inspection began, starting with the girls' section.
Each house, led by their house captain, marched into the center of the assembly to display their parade styles. The girls went first, followed by the boys' houses in order. I could vouch for Rima house; they performed exceptionally well with their synchronized movements.
I was left speechless when the Boys Scouts took the stage. They were fast, well-coordinated, and neat in their parade display. They formed different groups and then a single line, leaving the crowd cheering and applauding.
But my jaw dropped when the Cadet Boys took the stage. For a moment, I thought they were real soldiers. They were even faster and would surely win the award for the best club display. I suddenly wished I were a part of them, but I still preferred the Boys Scouts because they had more style, and I was all about "more style."
After the parade inspection, we left the assembly ground and watched the Cadet Boys perform outside. They chanted different songs and performed various military drills. It was a joyous occasion to see the seniors behaving like normal human beings, unlike the monsters they were in the hostels. I noticed most of the Cadet Boys were from the senior classes, with a few exceptions from the Zumas.
We headed back to the hostel as there was an urgent announcement for all students to return for roll call.
"Ajebo, you're in for a thrashing today," Yusuf said, smirking. I could sense his fear as well.
"Hamza, munshiga uku," Umar commented, holding his hands over his head, while we all laughed as we entered the Chad house complex. The laughter ceased as we saw all the students lying flat on their backs. We froze at the gate, terrified by what we saw.
"Are you lot just going to stand there and stare?" One of the SS3 students shouted at us, snapping us back to our senses. We joined the others and lay flat on the floor. We couldn't argue; we saw the SS2 students doing the same without a word or fight.
It was a collective punishment, but the SS2 students bore the brunt of it. We returned to our rooms, hurling insults at the seniors as we lay on our bunks.
"But do we even know what our offense is?" I asked as soon as we got back to our rooms.
"This is just in case we messed up during the parade inspection. The real punishment will come after Monday's assembly," Yusuf answered, and I could see both anger and fear in the eyes of others.
"What in the world?" I said, sitting down on the bunk.
He shrugged and didn't reply. I understood what he meant. There was nothing we could do about this, at least for now. But for how long? That was the wildest thought I'd ever had because the senior who punished us hadn't even attended the parade inspection.
I felt a little relief when I remembered my parents were coming today. At least I had something to look forward to. I wished everything could end in the blink of an eye. I wished.
Read the next chapter here
0 Comments