Logline

Amarachi prides herself on having a well-structured life, but after she's thrown together with the fascinating new boy at school, her carefully laid plans come crashing down around her.

Blurb

Amarachi Okon has a reputation for being a meticulous planner. 

She has her life scheduled down to the hour and is determined to follow these plans to the letter.

Now that she is in her penultimate year of secondary school, she wants nothing more than to graduate and achieve everything she has set out for herself.

But fate has other plans for her. And those plans come in the form of Daniel Wells.

When Daniel starts at her school, Amarachi finds herself uncannily attracted to the unapologetic non-conformist. And somehow this peculiar, mysterious boy teaches her that sometimes the best plan is to have no plan.

But chaos can only exist so long before it inevitably unravels even the most carefully built lives.

Chapter One

There are descriptions of hell that state it as a fiery pit where sinners were cast in to be punished for their sins for all eternity. That, however, sounded like a vacation to me compared to the experience of being driven to school by my mother.

"Are you sure you packed everything you need?" My mother asked for the twenty-fifth time. I'd begun counting since Festus, our security guard and occasional chauffeur, loaded my glittery pink suitcase into the back of mum's bright red Lexus, the one she'd gotten from a client as a Christmas present not up to a month ago.

"Yes, mummy," I grunted for the twenty-fifth time.

"The housemistress has my number if you need anything. Mrs. Lawal is still the housemistress, right?"

"Yes, mummy."

"Good. Principal Obi has my number too, if you need anything, call me. I'm always available."

"Sure, or maybe I'll just have them call daddy instead," I muttered to myself.

The car gave a sharp jerk and I looked over at my mother behind the wheel.

Did she hear that? God, I'm screwed.

"You can do that," Mummy said, her voice harder than stone. "But I doubt he'd be much help all the way from Hong Kong. Here I am doing the job of both parents while he's out doing God knows what and you have the audacity to just open your mouth and say nonsense. Do you think I'm your mate?"

I gulped, looking away from my mother's searing glare. The sky was a beautiful orange as we entered the early morning Lagos traffic.

"I'm sorry, mummy." I risked a glance.

With the way my mother looked, one would think she was off to a party instead of a trip across town to drop off her increasingly annoying teenage daughter.

She had on a sparkly purple and black Ankara gown that had 'I came here to slay' written all over it with a gold turban that would've looked gaudy on anyone else but did her small face justice paired with her signature black pumps. The only thing brighter than my mother's ensemble was the car we were in.

You could see us from Jupiter and my mother would have it no other way. That was forgivable if you were as provocative as Cassandra Okon.

Looking at both of us, it would've been hard to believe that she was my mother because we had nothing in common. She had pleasant, healthy bronze skin that glowed under the sun while mine was a lighter shade of honey that burnt easily. Only our shared small faces and wide-spaced eyes gave any indication we were related.

Mummy didn't acknowledge my apology so I busied myself with smoothing the pleats on my black skirt. When I was satisfied, I opened the binder on my lap and glanced at my schedule.

Endure car ride with mum without throwing myself out of the window, was scrawled in pink ink.

What I'd give to cross it out. But there was still a long way to go before we got to school and the chances that I'd throw myself out of the moving car were still high.

I rubbed my tired eyes. I got barely three full hours of sleep last night. Between my anxiety of starting eleventh grade and that one crippling nightmare that haunted me in a soul-crushing loop, my sleep had been fitful.

My attention was drawn to the screeching of tires, and I looked up just in time to see a yellow and black commercial bus do a sudden U-turn two feet in front of us before racing in the opposite direction. The car jerked forward as mum brought it to a stop, and my heart leapt to my throat. Mum stuck her head out and yelled "who brought you out of your cage? Animal!" at the retreating driver.

While mum shook an enraged fist in the bus's direction, I couldn't stop shaking. For a split second, the world outside the window dissolved, replaced by the shattering glass and metallic screams of that day.

No! No, please. Not now.

My breathing hitched as I clawed at my sweater, needing to feel its texture to ground myself before I got lost in the darkness.

I focused on a loose piece of string as I gulped down mouthfuls of air into my unwilling lungs.

Mum shook her head, oblivious to my internal struggle. "They've drank what they usually drink this early morning."

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing my mind to settle. My chest felt tight, but the edges of my panic began to dull making me focus on the rhythm of Mum's voice — sharp, annoyed, but familiar. Steady.

The car lurched forward as Mum rejoined the traffic and I clung to the motion like a lifeline. The ordinary chaos of Lagos mornings began to take hold again, grounding me: the honk of impatient drivers, the screech of tires, the persistent buzz of street vendors calling out their wares. It was messy, overwhelming, but it was now. It wasn't then.

I tugged at the frayed hem of my sweater, the texture calming as I traced the loose thread between my fingers. Slowly, my breathing found a rhythm that didn't feel like I was drowning.

"Amara, answer me!" Mum's voice cut through the fog, snapping me fully back into the moment.

"Sorry, Mum, what?"

She huffed, clearly exasperated. "I said, which one are you wearing?" She tugged at the black pantyhose I was wearing.

Worry about how I would fare in school with these random flashes gnawed at the back of my mind.

"The old one I usually wear," I answered, settling into the seat. My heart slowed and the invisible hand squeezing my lungs let up. I could breathe.

"I thought I told you to wear the new one. How can you start school with old clothes, ehn? This is a brand-new year, for God's sake!"

"But I like the old one."

I was confused about why she was angry.

"Do you think I care what you like? When I tell you to do something, you do it."

Mum went off on one of her spiels about my disobedience and I tuned her out. I had perfected the art of selective listening especially when it came to my mother. She would find something that displeased her – which ran the gamut from my eating habit to my grades – and let me know exactly what she thought of it. Being a cut-throat prosecutor she, unfortunately, never ran out of words. The trick was to listen for the pauses and apologise profusely.

When she shook her head and let out a disapproving click of her tongue, I knew that I had survived another one of her rants.

I turned back to the window. The purposeful pedestrians, the occasional motorcycles weaving through the cars like ballerinas in a well-choreographed recital.

Slowly, the hustle and bustle of the mainland faded away and we were on the 'posh' side of Lagos. Squat, unremarkable houses and roads bursting with both vehicular and human traffic gave way to smart, clinical high-rises and the cool, soothing scent of sea water and sand.

The change never failed to amaze me and I could never figure out why we had to take the journey every term and not just move closer to school.

My father brought me to school during resumption, rain or shine. We'd leave early in the morning and stop at the first open bakery we saw to get hot doughnuts slathered with enough sugar that you couldn't see the fried treat. Then he'd put on the same Backstreet Boys album on full blast and we'd sing ourselves hoarse.

Even though I knew I was going to be trapped for months in school, the trip with my dad made everything worth it.

I was looking forward to the trip until my dad announced three days ago that he had an impromptu trip scheduled that he couldn't miss and my mother would be driving me. They had a fight behind closed doors and I couldn't shake the sad, ominous feeling that engulfed me at the sudden change. I didn't like change at all. I didn't do well with it. Structure and order, that was how I preferred my life and it worked for me, anything outside of that and I was left flailing and untethered.

I tugged on my black sweater and scoffed at the crest of Brightway International School sewn on the left breast. It was a pretentious thing composed of a shield with icons of a torch, an open book and clasped hands on it, beneath it was a gold and white banner with the words 'Scientia et Virtus'. It was supposed to symbolize the pursuit of knowledge and unity but nobody paid attention to it.

I adjusted my sweater again. For some reason it felt like it was choking the life out of me. I blamed Auntie Faith's fried rice and the multiple slices of Christmas cake for the extra weight.

Reaching for my backpack at my feet, I retrieved my glasses with black round frames and fixed them on my face. I hated them. They made me look like a discombobulated owl and if I didn't need them to help with my myopic vision I wouldn't wear them at all.

I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes.

A firm tap on my thigh jerked me awake and I gasped, pushing my glasses back on my face.

"Welcome to the land of the living," my mother said. "Adjust your top. We're here."

Ignoring her in favour of the view of the three huge buildings we were passing on the way to the girls' apartments, my heart drummed out a hard beat against my chest in anticipation and I felt as if I would float away.

Mum stopped in front of the gate guarding the entrance to the apartments. This would be my home away from home for the next ten weeks. My stomach heaved, reminding me how much I hated boarding school.

I hastily crossed out the arduous task of getting to school I'd just completed and tucked my pen back into the bun my hair was in.

Picking up my backpack, I opened the door just as a lady in the grey security uniform of the school stepped out of the gatehouse.

I went to the back of the car. Mum was already there and made a big show of checking her Cartier watch while she waited for the boot to open.

When the boot opened, I couldn't take out my belongings fast enough.

The car ride had been unbearable and now that it was time to say goodbye my mother looked at me like she was expecting me to break down in a flood of tears at her departure. What she didn't know was that I'd accepted my circumstances a long time ago and I had no tears to shed about being abandoned.

It started to get awkward as we stood there staring at each other so I cleared my throat, gave a noncommittal wave and turned around. I'd managed to make it halfway when mum's voice caused me to stop.

"Is that it?" she asked.

I stopped and looked at her. "I don't know what you want me to say, Mum."

She sighed and pinched her nose. "I have to get to the office to get started on those cases, I won't be back until open day in a couple of weeks, will you be alright?"

"Yes, mummy."

It was then I realized how much I sounded like a broken record.

"No drama this year, inuna?"

"Yes, mummy. I've heard."

I shifted on my feet. My new black flats started to pinch.

"There was something else I wanted to tell you," My mother said, biting her thumb like she did when she was deep in thought.

Maybe it's 'I love you, Amara'.

I found myself holding my breath, hoping she would say it.

"Yes!" she snapped her fingers. "I talked to the hostel nurse about those nightmares you've been having. She said you should see her so she can prescribe something to help you sleep better."

I mentally shook my head. That was what I got for expecting the unexpected. A reminder of why I was too afraid to go to sleep at night.

"I'll go see her after school."

"Good, take care, and I don't expect to remind you to read your books."

With that, she got back into the car and was gone without so much as a hug or smile.

Sighing, I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and continued my journey.

"Was that your mum?" Mensah asked with something close to awe in her voice.

She was one of the security officers attached to the hostel and by far the friendliest. She never told us her name and since 'Mensah' was pinned to her gray uniform, that was what we all called her.

"Unfortunately," I hauled my suitcase to the gatehouse for inspection.

Provisions were not allowed in Brightway International School, so every bag that entered was inspected for any 'contraband' and it was just our luck that Mensah had to do the inspection herself. That woman was like a sugar detector, nothing got past her.

I stood back and waited as Mensah unzipped my box. I could hear the chattering of girls from the gate and I felt some of the anxiousness leave my body.

When Mensah was poking about in my toiletries, the door connecting to the compound opened and in walked none other than my best friend, Kehinde Omojola.

We let out a screech.

"There you are!" She scooped me into a hug and I returned it.

"You have no idea how long I've been patrolling between our room and here waiting for you. Why are you late? You're never late, I was about to go to the Principal and tell her to call the police and report you missing."

Kehinde – we all called her Kenny – had been my friend since that fateful day on the first day of school four years ago when she took the seat next to me in class. I had tried my hardest to get rid of her but the tall, thin, too-honest-for-her-own-good, tornado of a girl planted herself firmly by my side and refused to leave. Eventually she managed to get through all my walls with her special brand of snark and now I adored her. She was the closest thing to a sister I would ever get.

"My dad is on a trip and you know my mum takes like two hours to do her makeup. Plus she had to drop Obinna off at school first."

"Wow, I almost feel bad for you," she turned to Mensah who was running a handheld metal detector around my suitcase. "Can she go now? You know Amara would never try to sneak anything in, it's against her code of conduct."

"I wish I could say the same for you," Mensah shook her head. "You see this your friend? Just today, two packs of Milo," she started ticking off on her fingers. "Two containers of Ovaltine, ten packs of Orbit, and a pack of Smarties hidden in a toothpaste carton. That was actually very smart of you. Stupid, but smart."

I shot Kenny a horrified look.

"Come on, Mensah," Kenny implored with big, round eyes. "It doesn't have to be like this. Between you and me, just let me have the Smarties, I promise no one will know."

Mensah did not look impressed as she zipped my suitcase back up. With her fresh cornrows she didn't look much older than the both of us and that made me wonder what her story was again.

"Amarachi, my dear, you're free to go."

Kenny helped me with my suitcase and we left but not before Kenny told Mensah, "Keep my goods, alright? I'll be back for them."

The door closed on Mensah laughing like she'd just heard a fabulous joke.

When we were out of earshot I turned to Kenny. "Only you?"

"Please," she waved it off. "Those were just breadcrumbs compared to what I have."

"What?"

"You know I've been trying to sneak things into the hostel since day one, if I stop now, they'll get suspicious and if I dare compromise on how much I bring, they'll get suspicious too. So, the best thing is to give Mensah some breadcrumbs so she's satisfied and doesn't look for the bread that I had underneath," she winked.

"I can't believe you! Such disregard for the rules, you're incorrigible," I paused. "Tell me you brought Twix?"

"You know it, sister! You're covered for the term."

I squealed and high-fived her. "I love you so much."

"I know. Now come see our new apartment, I love it."

The girls' apartments were a combination of three buildings. One for senior girls and the other for lower-graders. The last one was for the housemistress and other staff that lived on-campus.

Our building had four floors. The ground floor had the common room, the reading room, and the sick bay. The first floor was for tenth grade girls, the second was for the eleventh graders and the uppermost floor was for the twelfth-grade girls.

We climbed the stairs, and I struggled, because I was lugging my suitcase. Kenny had rescinded her help.

Leading me to the third floor, Kenny opened the door with a flourish, staring at me with expectant eyes. I had no idea what she was expecting from me as I entered behind her. The school designed the apartments so if you've seen one, you've seen them all.

The floor was tiled with brown porcelain and four large single beds topped with black and white sheets were arranged at the corners of the room. There were two built-in closets and an ironing board sat flush against the wall.

The air conditioner was on full blast and felt unnecessary in the chilly January weather.

"Well?" Kenny turned to me with excitement written all over her face, her smile almost splitting her face.

"Well, what? Do you want me to jump for joy? It's exactly like the one we had downstairs."

"Kenny hasn't eaten anything in, like, three hours, her blood sugar must be low by now, that's probably why she's acting like a child," came a voice from the far side of the room.

I turned, finding my other roommate, Grace, tying the laces on her shoes.

"Grace!" I greeted with a wave. "How are you?"

"I'm good. It's strange that I got here before you though, usually you're all settled in before I arrive. You're sickeningly punctual."

"You can catch up later." Kenny interrupted what I was going to say. "We have Maths first thing this morning and I don't want to jinx my entire year by going late for it so Amarachi, hustle, let's go."

Kenny took my suitcase and deposited it in front of the closet nearest to the bed on the farthest side of the right wall.

When that was done, she stalked back to me and we headed to class. Walking through the halls to our class, I noticed the walls had a fresh coat of cream paint. School management typically carried out maintenance while we were away on holiday. I didn't know when they would start or finish, all I knew was by the time we resumed the facilities were spotless.

When we got to our class, we were welcomed by a lanky boy clad in the school's white-and-black uniform leaning on the door jamb. He sported an easy smile accented by a new smattering of acne across his forehead. He was tall and thin in the uncoordinated way that most teenage boys were. His white shirt was neatly tucked in and his hair – still having traces of the gold dye he'd put in for the Christmas celebrations – was cropped close to his scalp. He was an Art and Humanities student whose class was down the hall but he insisted on starting every day with seeing us.

"There's my two favorite science girls," he flashed his white teeth.

"Sylvanus!" I hugged him. "You grew taller."

"My mother likes to joke that she feeds me fertilizer." He wiggled his eyebrows. "You like?"

Before I could answer, Kenny stopped before the both of us. "You better avoid me this new year. Let me warn you now."

After giving him a very fierce glare, she entered the classroom.

"What did I do to her?" Sylvanus asked, confused.

"She might still be pissed about that misogynistic quote you sent her over the holidays."

His eyes widened. "She showed you that? I swear I don't believe in it, the fact that it sent was an accident."

"And I believe you, so does Kenny, but you know how she likes to pretend to hold grudges. Don't mind her at all. Come on, tell me about your Christmas and new year."

I dragged him inside the class to my usual seat at the back. None of my fellow students acknowledged our entrance, they were too busy talking amongst themselves, no doubt catching up.

"It was ok. Forget that." He straddled the seat in front of me. "Have you guys heard of the new guy?"

I raised an eyebrow, dropping my backpack on the table. "There's a new guy?"

"Yes, he's in my room."

"And he's in our class?" Kenny looked at me. It was unheard of for someone to start a new school in eleventh grade. At least here.

Sylvanus turned to Kenny who'd joined us. "You're back? I thought you weren't talking to me? Now that I have gossip, we're now friends, right?"

Kenny hit him on his shoulder. "You're still useless but start talking."

"Well, that's pretty much it." Sylvanus shrugged. "I haven't met him, just heard the guys talking."

"Forget that. How does he look? Is he pretty at least?" Kenny asked. She knew her priorities. I'll give her that.

"God, the only thing that I asked from you this new year was a boyfriend." She crossed her fingers and looked up to the ceiling. "If this is how you are going to do it for me, I accept wholeheartedly, my Lord and Savior!"

As I said, Kenny knew her priorities.

"You're even thirstier than usual." Sylvanus dished a teasing smile. "What? Didn't get some over the holiday?"

Kenny was on him in a minute, playfully hitting him.

Amid their teasing, my attention drifted to the tall man that stopped at the door to the class. I thought it was Adenike here to begin his mind-numbing lecture in Maths but it turned out to be Mr. Peter, the principal's secretary.

"Amarachi, Principal Obi wants to see you," Mr. Peter said and left as soon as he came.

The Principal? Wielder of legendary iron fist? Our strict unyielding warden when she's not scarring children for fun? What would she want with me of all people?

My heart thumped as I shared a look with Kenny that said one thing: those six words are not what you want to start your Monday with.