That evening, mom pauses the movie we are viewing without warning.

"Come, Joy. Let's go and get the iron back from Mama Faith," My mom tells me.

Raising from my seat, I put on my slippers without responding. I follow down the stairs like an animal with a chain on its neck.

It is hard to understand that this woman does not believe her daughter can succeed.

After mom knocks at their door, Faith's mom opens it

"Good evening, Mama Joy. Long time."

"Yes-oo." My mom squats lightly before coming back up. She did that because Faith's mother was much older than she was. When we enter, I look around for Faith until I spot a pink cake on the dining table.

Approaching the dining, I pass the pictures held by nails hammered to the walls. The first is Faith as a baby with her mom and dad. The next is of her much older, around the same time she freshly entered junior secondary.

Then, I was excited to be in the same class as my new neighbour. Faith's dad held her mother's plumb belly with a proud grin. The last picture on the wall was of herself, her mom, and her siblings.

Faith's father was not able to see the birth of his twins.

"Wow, this cake is beautiful. I did not know your birthday was this month." I know it is not either of their birthdays, so I am generally curious about the cake.

"Oh, no. The cake is for Faith, not me. You can check it out. I am sure she would not mind." Faith's mom assures me. I look at the cake but turn away at the sight of her smiling face plastered on top of it.

Mom's eyes are on me, questioning me.

"Ah, good evening Mama Joy." Faith appears in the passage with our iron in her hands. "I was about to come to give you the iron we borrowed from you, hi Joy,"

I nod in response and walk past her. "Nice cake."

"That was a gift from our neighbour Mrs. Tolu."

I feel my lips part way before I try to hide my shock with a yawn.

"Is it the women working with that study abroad program?" My mom asks.

"Yes-oo. How do I say this?" Faith's mom adjusts in her chair. "Do you know she helped my daughter secure a full scholarship to study in the United States?"

My eyes widen like perfect circles. I stare at Faith, then her mother, before realizing I am still standing.

"Mommy," She drags her feet on the tiled floor while approaching her. "But I told you not to tell anyone yet." She whines.

"Why? You already went for that thing."

"It is called a visa interview, mom." Faith smiles warmly at her.

I fall unto the couch like a large rock. The lights reflect my mom's glistening eyes, which roam from them to me.

What is happening? I have not yet paid my acceptance fee, but Faith has gotten this far. Without me knowing?

But Faith and I are on the same intelligence level, so how did she get such a scholarship?

"How did it happen?" My mom asks.

"You did not even wish her to congratulate my daughter. She will be going abroad like yours."

"Oh, sorry." My mom rubs her head.

"Congratulations Faith. I know you deserve it." My mom puts on a weak smile.

"Thank you, ma. I did a project online last year, and early last month, they picked me." Faith takes her attention to me.

"Congrats, Faith." Tightening my jaw, I stare at the tile lines on the floor. I have to control my emotions, but it seems impossible.

She smiles. "Thank you, Joy,"

How did she climb that ladder and displace me? This girl is so lucky.

"Do you know that she did not even tell anyone about the admission or scholarship? Faith just applied and informed us after she got both," Her mom tells us while squeezing her daughter's hand.

I watched the scene silently. After I got my admission, almost everyone in the compound had heard about it.

"Congratulations Ma'am, and thanks for the iron. We will be going back home now." My mom smiles and gets to her feet. I stay behind her, trying to avoid meeting them in the eye.

Congratulations, Faith. You have someone that believes in you.

Mom and I did not talk when we got inside the apartment. She sits in the parlour and starts scrolling over her movie downloads on the television.

I go to my room to use the restroom. My mind plays the times I fought with Faith.

And what did she do to retaliate? Except for the little taunts she made at me, Faith did not do anything against me. Flushing the toilet, I return to the living room. My dad's face brightens as he sees me.

"Do not tell me you are also angry about your friend's success?"

"She is not my friend. Good evening, dad." I move to the dining hall and pick up my economics notebook.

"I am glad her dad told you." Although she said it, my mom did not seem happy.

"That does not matter. These people do not matter. Instead of comparing yourselves, you should see what Brian's mom gave Joy." My dad sounds overly excited.

"What?" Mom rubs her face in exhaustion.

"Take this and see for yourself," He hands her a cream-coloured and slightly rumbled envelope.

She opens it to bring out two-hundred-dollar bills.

"Is this part of your salary, honey?" Mom swallows spit hard and straighten the smooth bills.

"No. It is Joy's."

"Ah!" I scream. "I thought she already paid me?"

"Bah? These are people you should associate with, not those small boys you were dying for in the past."

At this time in my life, he still brings up this conversation. So much time has passed since then, but he still talks to me like that confused thirteen-year-old.

"Please I need the money to go to the market." My mom holds the dollar bills close to her chest, and I shake my head.

"What do you mean? Please, don't get me angry," My dad's face is already changing from its initial softness.

"But there is no food on the table, Spencer. Don't are selfish." My mom spitefully points at him.

"Your shop has been closed, and I cannot do anything about it. You would have to get another joy. I just cannot kill myself."

"My love, I am jobless right now. If not for this money that has come, I have been thinking of how I would have found the money to purchase food items – "

"Just take it, take it. Maybe I should also give you my blood for you to understand that I am working too. Ifeoma does not pay me much, yet you are making it look like you are the only burden bearer here."

"Then leave the job." My mom concludes.

"Why don't you just shut up instead? What should I do if I quit? Will I stare at your face all day when I can continue earning the pennies I am receiving? No, I will continue to be grateful for what I have and work harder."

My mom picks up her phone and starts to leave. "I am going to bed. Good night,"

She turns off the television and then ensures the curtains don't show anything of the apartment to the public.

After wishing my dad a good night, I go to bed myself.

Soon, I would have to live with Osas breathing next to me on the same bed. Instead of trying to make something out of his life, he would come to the room where he spent ten years.

Poverty is an illness that keeps getting worse until it empties your pockets and that of your loved ones.

Please vote, comment, and share. I would really appreciate constructive criticism. Thanks for reading.