"One thing I know is that we're in this together. . ."
– Justin Bieber.

Dedicating this chapter to yompous. Thank you for being you, Baby girl. God bless you.❤️ Plus, Lade is a talented writer, fr. I'm not capping. Y'all should check out her books!🔥🔥

•BOLU•

Believe it or not, I found myself in the University of Ibadan after I ran from school that morning. I honestly did not know how it happened. My legs just carried me as far as it could away from River Brook Academy. The memory of me taking a cab was hazy, though. But then, I convinced myself that I did take a cab because the distance from my school to the University was not one I would dream of trekking.

Trudging down the streets, I let myself get lost in the beauty of the place, wondering why, since Kanyin had been in here for the past two years, I’d never taken out time to appreciate the scenery. I was way past the main gate now, and walking towards the halls of residence. The trees that lined the side of the road, tall and green, created a shade from the sun over me. 

I remained lost in the bliss of the environment, ignoring the looks people gave me, probably wondering why a secondary school student would be roaming the university, until I found myself perched on the rooftop of one of the buildings that housed a course’s department or faculty—I wasn’t sure which, because I’d paid the signs in front no mind—my legs drawn to my chest, and my arms wrapped around them. I stared into the distance at nothing. 

Scenes of what happened today came flooding my mind, the voices in my head becoming louder with them.  A liar, a cheat, a bad friend; I was all those things. I was also the stupid girl who’d allowed her stupid seatmate to drag her into this mess. I was the girl who was dumb enough to believe I could be in love with someone who already had a girlfriend. Stupid. Stupid. So stupid.

My phone buzzed with messages probably from WhatsApp and other social media. Tears blurred my vision as I deleted all my social media apps without a second thought, my breaths coming out in heavy gasps. It was better this way. I couldn’t take the hate, and I was pretty sure that it was going to trend for a while. So, there was really no need to keep those apps on my phone. And besides, I did not want to associate with anyone because I was pretty sure no one wanted to associate with me. 

Sinking back to my knees, I let out a muffled scream from the depths of my gut. My shoulders shook and I slowly got drenched in my tears; the voices in my head resumed their banter. I let them do whatever. Because like I’d said, they were right this time.

• • •

For the next couple of days, I lived as though I was sick. And for the first time in my life, I did not care that I was off the grid. Yes, I was practically unreachable. Apart from deleting my social media apps the other day, I put my phone on airplane mode, only turning it off in case I needed to google something.

Normally, it wouldn’t be easy to fool my parents for long, but I was able to pull off being sick because it was the season of business trips and seminars for both of them. My dad was in Abuja for something that had to do with his company; my mom went to the University of Lagos for some Geology seminar that was going to take a week or more. So, it was just my siblings and I at home—and they weren’t mostly at home, so, it was just me.

If I was not sleeping or moping around in my sadness with a hood over my head, I drowned myself in my studies; honestly, I did not know academics could be a means of escape from reality until now. I mean, I studied like I never had before, so much that I was able to solve even physics questions from the JAMB series, getting them right without checking the back for the answers.

It made me smile in spite of myself and the situation. I didn’t slack in my chemistry either. In just a few days, I was able to cover a lot. And it felt like I had unlocked a certain part of my brain that I never even knew existed.

I was determined to do all I could to distract myself. So, in addition to studying, I read lots of murder mystery, Horror, and Psycho thriller novels by Nancy Drew and Stephen King—I found them engaging and exciting. And man, I had been missing a lot. Now I really understood what Nina enjoyed while she read all her novels, especially during sports, before she became the health prefect.

Speaking of Nina, I missed her so much, too. More than once I was tempted to call her—actually, I did turn off airplane mode to call her, but her line never went. She was the only one out of my friends I hadn’t lashed out on, so I just knew she would be on my side. Or, at least, that she would understand me. But a deep part of me also knew that if she’d been there, I would have hurt her, too. And, as a best friend to her, I had already messed up.

Sighlas. Sigheed. Sighmon.

I also picked up the talking drum I had abandoned on my wardrobe for more than three months now, and began practicing again. It took a while for me to get the sound of the talking solfas right, since I was rusty. But after watching a couple of You-tube videos, my rusty-ness reduced. I played when my siblings were not at home, of course, because I did not want to blow my “sick” cover by making noise. I mean, a person who was sick should obviously not have the strength to play the talking drum.

Playing the instrument reminded me of the conversation I’d had with Ore on our first date. I did my best to shake the memory off. My emotions were too clouded to allow me decipher exactly how and what I felt about Ore at the moment.

I hurt my friends because of that. Because I thought I could live a freaking fantasy.

I was in my moping around mood when my siblings returned from school today. They usually did not return home this early on other days. I wondered why I could hear, from my room, the clanging and banging of doors and their loud shouts—especially from Fayo and Tomide. So, furrowing my brows, I dragged myself up from the bed, reached out to the table beside it, and grabbed my phone to know what today was: Friday. I groaned. No wonder.

I had always loved Fridays, but today had to be the day I resented Fridays the most. Couldn’t a girl just be left alone to wallow in her despair for, like, ever? I suppose not. And, like he read my thoughts, I heard the door open slowly and Joba walk in. I knew it was him, even though my face was pressed into my pillow.

Somehow, my mind had trained itself to master the footsteps of my siblings.

“What do you want?” I asked, more like stated, my voice coming out muffled.

“You no go ask how I dey sef,” Joba replied, his voice having the usual cheer in it.

“I’m still sick, thanks for asking,” I said, turning my head to face the wall on the other side. “Won’t be well until God knows when.”

“Guy, I know what happened. Plus, you tried, but your acting still sucks.”

I knew it was too good to be true that I’d fooled Joba, the closest of my siblings to me. He saw things Kanyin didn’t see—heck, he saw things my parents did not see. In spite of this, though, I still tried to play dumb. Turning to see him with crossed arms and a raised brow, I raised myself up slowly and said, “What are you talking about?”

Joba rolled his eyes. “Towns’ High International is a school that, in the end, all the gist comes to.”

He was right, but I still wanted to be stubborn. “Still don’t know what you’re talking about, bro.”

“Do you really want me to mention the TWO GIRLS AND ONE ORE SCANDAL?”

His voice was so loud that I shushed him, jumped up, and ran to shut the door. “Don’t be shouting like that nau.”

Then, I walked slowly to my bed, feeling the cool of the tiles beneath my feet in spite of the socks I clad them in. “Fine, okay? Fine. I’m a liar and a bad friend. You’re free to judge me now,” I said, hanging my head, and refusing to look at him. Even when he sat beside me. 

Scooting closer, he placed an arm around me and said, “Bro, I could never judge you. Yes, you could be really dense—no offense—but you’re my sister and I love you like that.”

A tear escaped my eye and I wiped it with the sleeve of my hoodie. I didn’t want to cry. But something about what he’d said made something in me melt. Of course, I knew he loved me, but I guess the fact that he’d said it aloud made me feel like I wasn’t alone.  And it also dawned on me how lonely I had been since the incident. Truth was, I really did not want to wallow in my despair forever, after all. 

“You should see the funny headlines and hashtags students’ gist blogs and WhatsApp statuses have turned RBA’s story to,” he said.

I sighed. “Honestly, Joba, I don’t want to see them. Why do you think I deleted all my social media apps?”

Joba’s eyes went wide. “You did that? I actually thought no one in this generation could live without social media. I should learn from you, my sister.”

He was obviously mocking me, so I just scowled at him. “Shut up.”

“No, guy, I’m actually for real oh.”

“I’ve heard you.” I rolled my eyes, not believing him one bit.

“If Ninu’s part of the people you hurt, by the way, I will never forgive you. ‘Cause how dare you hurt the woman I’m in love with?” he deadpanned.

My eyes went saucers, because I had hurt Ninuola. And I had also slightly forgotten she was my brother’s one-sided crush.

“I. . .”

“Relax,” he said, chuckling, “I’m actually getting over her.”

“Phew.” I raised my brows. “For real?”

He nodded. “I need to grow up.”

“Aw, I’m so proud of you,” I cooed, leaning to hug him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes. I snorted.

“But wait oh”—he scrunched his nose and looked around—"when last did you open your windows and clean your room?”

My eyes darted around my room to see the mess I’d been living in: clothes—a mix of clean and dirty ones—strewn around and in a heap at one part of the room, books and stationery scattered on my table and on my bed, and food (junk, actually) wrappers, chips, biscuits, gala, popcorn and something I couldn’t quite recognize, decorated my floor. And the room, now that I noticed, had some kind of stale odour.

Ew.

It turned out that in the midst of my self-discovery (sort of) and despair, I had forgotten the place of a good sense of hygiene in my life.

“Um…” I massaged my neck.

He leaned closer and sniffed me; I leaned back, a frown on my face.

“Bolu, when last did you even shower?”

“Hey!” I yelled.

“E reach to ask. Because omo,” he said and began to laugh, his shoulders quaking to the rhythm of the laughter.

“Stop laughing nau,” I whined. “I think I showered yesterday. . .or was it two days ago?”

“God abeg.” He doubled over and almost fell to the floor as he guffawed loudly.

I just crossed my arms and stared at him, my face in a childish pout, resisting the urge to sniff myself.

Did I really not shower, though?

After a couple of minutes, his laughter died; he dusted himself and sat back on the bed properly. He faced me. “Look, guy, I know you’re in a situation where it looks like you should be depressed and die in that depression, but think about it, is it really worth it?”

Silence.

He continued, “Funny thing is that most people have already forgotten about the story.”

“They haven’t oh.”

“Even if, sis. Even if they have not forgotten, I don’t think it means you should continue moping around in Ore’s hoodie, and practically start living in your room, breathing the same stale air for days.” He tugged a part of the hoodie on my shoulder. 

I heard the rest of what he said, but my ears rang at “Ore’s hoodie”. I looked down at the hoodie I was wearing, pulling at the fabric with my fingertips—he was right. I was actually wearing Ore’s hoodie, the one he’d given me for Christmas last year, the one that had his initials at the back. It made me wonder how that had happened. I’d thought I had been putting one of my many hoodies. I did not know I had subconsciously picked his. Without meaning to, I sniffed it. And yes, even though I had probably worn it for days, it still smelled like him.

“I feel horrible,” I said, finally finding the words. I felt Joba’s gaze on me. “Because even if all that happened to me was bad, my friends don’t deserve how I treated them. I am—”

The sound of the door opening cut me off, and instinctively, we both looked up to see our older sister walk in.

“Mehn, this place smells like a rat’s den,” she commented, leaving the door open wide.

“Couldn’t agree more,” Joba muttered. I glared at him.

Then Kanyin walked around my bed to the windows and raised the curtains, letting the rays of the late afternoon sun stream in. We watched as she drew out the chair tucked into my reading table, flicked all the clothes on it to the floor, and sat, crossing her legs, like she’d just arrived in a meeting that she’d been expected for the past hour.

No one said a word for a whole minute until she sighed, faced Joba, and said, “I was right, bah?”

He nodded. “Yup.”

Wait, what?

Had these two discussed my secret in secret?

“Boluwaji,” she said, “you’re no good at being fake. Haven’t you learned that in all your years of existing?”

I flinched, taken aback by what she’d said. Joba grabbed my phone from the table and splayed himself on my bed, as if Kanyin’s coming in was a cue for him to get busy or something. He typed in my phone’s password and unlocked it. Yeah, Joba figured out my password all by himself some time ago.

“And maybe you have not noticed, but it’s one of the unique things about you.”

I massaged my neck, at loss for words to say to her.

“Remember the day I picked you up from school? When you were with Ore at the gate, talking to some girl in a scarf?”

I remembered immediately, of course. The day I’d met Ore’s sister, Aisha, and how I’d thought they’d had a weird relationship. Most of all, I remembered how Aisha had smiled at me, like she also knew something, and how Kanyin had asked me a question in the car and I’d lied to her. But I stalled for a while, looking up at the ceiling, my brows knitted, like the memory would suddenly appear from above or something. When I didn’t say anything, she continued speaking.

“That was the day I knew, without doubt, that you and Ore had something going on.”

“Was it that obvious? I mean, were we that obvious?” I asked her, wondering how many loopholes had given our secret away.

She chuckled and shrugged. “Yes. I had my suspicions before then. It’s not like you were always talking about him, but the little times you did whenever I picked you up from school were enough for me to start shipping you guys in my head.”

I stared at my sister, once again, dumbfounded. I knew Kanyin was almost an adult and pretty smart, but if she was able to see through our façade from a distance, it meant it was obvious to other people who were closer. Maybe even Chidera, too. I dug my fingers into my temples, wondering, for the umpteenth time, how I had been so stupid. And worst of all, I’d messed up with my friends. . .with Ninuola.

Whether or not she was right about Joy, I should have been calm enough to listen to her. I should not have said all those things I said to her about Jeremy. That was downright stupid and so low. I should not have talked to all of them that way, no matter how terrible I’d been feeling that day.

That’s right, you were so stupid. Actually, you deserve to be alone.

“I think I deserve to be alone at this point,” I said to Kanyin with a sniff, heeding to the voices in my head. “Because of the stupid thing I had with Ore, I messed a lot of lives up. I said terrible things to my friends. I insulted Ninu all because she accused Joy of committing the crime. I. . .I—”

“Shut up, Boluwaji,” Kanyin said, cutting me off. “Shut up, okay?” 

With tears blurring my vision, I managed to look shocked at what Kanyin just said. Why was she telling me to shut up when I was telling the truth?

“But—”

“I said you should shut up. Not just your mouth, but also your thoughts. I want you to listen to me.” She locked gazes with me, and it was like we were in an intense stare-down match. “First, one thing you should learn from what’s happened is this: never start a relationship with anyone based on dishonesty. Whether you’re both hiding to be in it, it’s dishonesty; whether either one of you is faking feelings or both of you are, it’s dishonesty; whether you’re doing it for popularity and whatnot, it’s dishonesty. From now on, decide to be honest. Without fear of whether you’d be judged by society. Without fear of being seen differently by people around you. It’s not going to be easy, but you’re gonna have to try.”

With Kanyin going on about honesty, I remembered how I’d lied to my friends about my GCE results. And I felt even terrible, because looking back now, that lie had been very unnecessary.

“Next, I know you messed up with your friends, but give it time. I’m pretty sure everyone’s just hurt right now. Y’all will figure it out in the end. Believe me.”

We maintained eye contact for a second longer, before I finally hung my head and mulled over everything she’d said. And I also realized that when Kanyin had told me to shut my thoughts up, I’d actually done it, unconsciously. The war with my thoughts and the voices in my head were for me to conquer. And as much as Ore had helped me, as much as Kanyin had helped me, it was up to me to finally get out of my head and silence the voices once and for all.

I looked up at my sister, whose gaze hadn’t left me the whole time, with tears in my eyes. “Thank you, Kanyin.”

She stood up and moved to sit beside me, slapping Joba’s legs away. Joba muttered incoherent words, but didn’t stop pressing my phone. Kanyin wrapped me in a side hug, partially squeezing the life out of me. The hug wasn’t as weird as I thought it would be, since Kanyin and I rarely showed each other affection. I loved her scent, I realized, and I wanted us to share more hugs. She wasn’t so scary, after all. 

“Thank you for opening my eyes,” I whispered.

“Anytime,” she whispered back. “I’m always here to share my wisdom because I’m so freaking smart.”

I giggled. “Forgot to add that you’re also crazy.”

“You love me, too,” she replied and we burst into a fit of giggles.

“AH!”

Kanyin and I disentangled ourselves from the hug and turned to face Joba, who was staring wide-eyed at my phone’s screen.

“What is it?” Kanyin asked.

Joba sat up and ended up in the middle of both of us. “You guys need to see this.”

We peered closer to my phone’s screen to see he had zoomed one of the pictures of Ore and I “caught in the act”. Specifically, the one where Ore was crouched in front of me in that classroom, where someone had opened the door, after. . .yeah.

“I thought I deleted all those pictures,” I said, inching back from peering at the phone. “I don’t want to see it. Joba, please delete it.”  I shook my head and made to get up, but Joba pulled me back down.

“See,” he said, zooming the image and pushing my head to the screen with his other hand.

I frowned. “See what?”

“Just look at it well.”

It took a while, but I finally saw what he was talking about. Beyond what the whole world saw—Ore and I, that is—there was a mirror; it was in the classroom, a small one, by the way, hardly noticeable (probably why I had not noticed it when we’d been in the class that day), but big enough to capture the torso of a person, on the wall, two lockers from where Ore and I were. And there was someone in the mirror holding an-all-too-familiar phone in the hand of an-all-too-familiar person. I gasped and cupped my mouth with my hands, tears brimming my eyes. In the next minute, Joba and Kanyin flanked me and wrapped me in their embrace.

I wished I had listened to Ninuola. Because she was right, after all.

👀

*Grins sheepishly.*

Hey there, guys. What's up? I apologise for leaving y'all hanging for, like, ever. But Idk, man, I just lost the drive to write this book at some point. But fear not, heathen, the drive is back. And whether they like it or not, we're finishing this book!

Amen, somebody.😭🔥

I want to talk, but I really don't have the words.😂 Anyway, just let me in on your theories.🌚 Because yeah, Ninu was right. One question: why do you think she did it, though?

Spam me with your comments.😔❤️ I will really appreciate it.

Once again, y'all new readers, I see some of you. Welcome to WWAT, I guess. I hope you're enjoying the book. Don't hesitate to leave a comment and vote, too.  And oh, follow me.

My IG has a new handle: @ iamifebode.

Follow me on there too.🤭

That said, anticipate the next chapter. And see you guys whenever I see you.

Sending love and virtual hugs. ❤️❤️❤️🫂🫂🫂

~ Ife.💕💕✨