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***

Hope had never been so eager for classes to end. Whatever her opinion was, the physics practical instructor didn’t look like he would give a dime.

Last week they were introduced to some equipment, a basic waste of time actually. Hope was familiar with many of them, from the oscilloscopes to breadboard and screws. Today, they would be identifying resistors and capacitors by their color bands, next week they would confirm their finds using appropriate devices. As fate would have it, she was paired with Obi who made it all so damn easy.

“that’s 5 ohms.” He said. Picking one up. Hope collected it from him, examining the bands and comparing them to the charts on the manual. He was right.

“Don’t tell me you have this all head?” she asked, looking back at the charts and wondering if she would want to memorize them.

“I work with them, a lot. Back at home.” He said, not without a hint of intentional pride.

“Oh.” She said, reaching for a capacitor this time, “why don’t you let folks that haven’t work with them before have a feel of what’s like?”

Obi looked over his shoulder to where the instructor was seated poring over a volume. “Don’t tell me you really want to sit down and argue this crap. I know this stuff; we can be out of here in no time. Beside, you’re smart, you already figured it out.”

“from the books. Hello!” she said, “you’re flattering me. What do you want?”

“I need to watch this match, that starts in the next ten minutes.” Obi said, Hope gawked. Is he serious? “Please, let me handle this. You look like you could use some rest.”

Hope considered her option, fourty five minutes more in this hot overcrowded lab, or a quick break. It wasn’t hard to choose, she felt spent already. She slapped a resistor to Obi’s palm, “You owe me.”

The boy smiled. And within the next ten minutes they were done. Hope submitted their ‘collective’ work to the instructor who shrugged and up ended the slip. “you can go.”

Hope noticed the tension on some of the boys, scribbling fast and punching their calculator, face scrunched dripping sweat like there were in some Nazi think tank. She never understood what the thing between boys and soccer was. But then, they were boys, can anyone understand their weirdness?

Traffic on the hallways had lessened as some students’ classes were over already. She had time to kill, time she’d rather not spend it alone, in her room. She thought of tv in the common room, but that wasn’t as spontaneous as continuing her quest of meeting the statues, or better still visiting the infamous lake.

She stared long and hard at the long way that led past the male football pitch towards and set on the journey. She sighed, she couldn’t go there alone she realized. She had not been able to shake off the bad feeling of being watched. Hope stamped her feet and humphed frustrated at how spineless she was becoming.

As if fate was working in her favor she heard the whistling behind, just some few paces away. An old man, Pa Jacob was walking towards her, in his arm was a white Samoyed, its fur bristled in the wind. Everyone knew Pa Jacob loves going to the Lake when school was over, she had seen him leaving many times, like clockwork. Hope was wondering if she could just tail the man when he spoke up.

“you are the girl with the violin?” he asked. Hope was tempted to look away, to be sure if the old man was talking to anyone els, but she knew she was the one she was talking to. “you played ave maria right?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir.” She replied, “good evening.”

“evening to you.” The man cheerfully said smiling. A few teeth were gone, Hope observed and that didn’t sit well with her, but the man seems friendly, most of the students liked him. The old man looked past her to the empty soccer pitch, “waiting for someone?”

Hope shook her head. “are you going to the lake Sir?”

“As I always do.” Said the man. “what about the lake?”

“actually, I was hoping to just get a view of the lake.” She said.

The man peered at her, his lower lip contoured in suspicion. “I’m not exactly sure what your hostel mistress would think about that.”

“Mama Nosa, only takes roll call during dinner. I still have two hours and a half.” She said.

“smart girl aren’t you?” the man asked, “but what I meant is that the lake is off limit.” Ada sighed, crest fallen. She was about feigning obedience when the man called back. “but you’ll still go there no matter what i say, am I right?” his look wasn’t stern, if anything it was mild, condescending. He absents mindedly ruffled the fur of the pup.

Hope bounced on the balls of her feet wondering what her reply should be. The man raised his brow in a cocky look, then his lip curled in a knowing smile. “well, I guess I can give you the tour if you insist. You are new right?” he asked then gruffly added, “and I’m the janitor.”

She nodded, beaming.

“but you’ll do me a tiny favor.” The man said, “can you help me with angel here, these old bones tire easily.”

And thus the old man and the curious girl began the long walk towards the lake. “I had followed the electrician to the studio that day, some bulbs needed replacement. That was when I heard you.” The man said.

Hope stared quizzical for a moment, then realized the man was talking about the violin piece.

He obviously took Hopes nod to mean she was catching the drift. “my late wife hums that song a lot.” He smiled, looking ahead, “she was what you might call a classical music junkie.” He chuckled.

Hope didn’t know how to respond. She simply clutched the Samoyed who looked at her with sparkling dark eyes, almost studying her. But the old man went on talking. “my boy used to play it then before he left the country. Maria just sits down and listens, humming along.” He said, “you played it beautifully that day. And I bet Madam Rosalind loved it.”

There was no way Hope could forget that moment the woman was swooned by her skills with the violin, the awe on the faces of her class mates. That was a highlight. “she said I could come over to the studio to practice during my spare time.” Hope was glad to finally have something she could contribute to what was becoming a long boring monologue.

“that’s nice of her.”

Nice. That’s not a word Hope would be generous with when it comes to the diehard perfectionist, Madam Rosalind. It wasn’t like she had a personal beef with Madam Rosalind but because of the way she made music class like it was some sort of boot camp. Hope’s teeming class had shrunk half its size in just two weeks. Thank God it’s an elective! Even the friend she was on the verge of making, Ada, had left for Spanish instead. “now what was once fun has suddenly become a rodeo.” A boy had muttered during one of the class. But does Madame Rosalind care? Every time she smiled at Hope, she feels her stomach tightened, she would suddenly be self-conscious wondering what disappointment would swipe the look away. Hope hated that worse than being in math class.

But Madam Rosalind wasn’t avoidable. French wasn’t an elective, and all those that run would still have to face her rigorous French classes. Very few students like Hope who had a good musical background would ever consider liking her. Every class, she liked her less and less.

The old man began whistling again, for the long while they walked. Hope was thinking about Madame Rosalind, standing with her hands stretched, a baton in hand, a sharp repeated rap would sound as she taps the stand to get everyone attention. “you have your musical score before you, let’s begin.” And that’s it.

“Andy is that a trumpet you are playing or a frog croaking.” Another rap, “John, what are you doing with that French horn, My cat Oscar can fart better than that…” another rap, this time longer, and the baton points like she’s gonna poke someone’s eye out. “No picking noses in my class Alex!”

Alex had muttered behind his hand right then, “see the way she flaps in that agbada like a blotched bat.” And now that Hope thought of it, Madam Rosalind, that day, was wearing an adire (tie and die fabric), white pattern splotched on a black backdrop. And when she stretched her meaty hands ready to conduct the music, it would seem like she was about to flap some black wings.

“something you want to tell the class Alex?” Madam Rosalind had asked.

“no Ma.”

“better,” another rap, “let’s begin.”

Hope laughed so loud, the old man looked at her. “pardon.”

“Sorry, private joke.”

The man stared for a while then began whistling. “I like your dog.”

Pa Jacob smiled that mild condescending Irish Jesus’ smile. “she’s likeable isn’t she.”

Yeah, beautiful. Hope thought, rubbing the hair on its back.

The lake was the most beautiful thing Hope had seen that day, it stretched wide and blue to mountainous cliff, surrounded about by overgrown grasses, and statues. The only thing out of place aside the fact that it was overrun by grasses, was the hedge about it. It was more beautiful that it had seem behind the computer screen. She put the dog, who was barking excitedly, down when it began to kick. “she seems to like it here.” Hope said.

“sure, sure.” The Old man said, cocked his hat, inhaling the fresh breeze and then sat beneath the tree. She walked around towards the edge of the lake, she was tempted to go beyond the hedge, just one jump, holding the bar and swinging over, she could scoop the water. “I know what you’re thinking.” said the old man who was now resting his back on the tree. He held the rim of his hat just above his eyes. “those fences are there for a reason young Lady!” now there was an edge to Pa Jacob’s voice, an edge adults reserved for persistently erring youngsters.

Hope wandered down a bit relishing the sight. A particular statue interested her, that brought memories too, something Obi told her eons ago. “are there fishes in there?” she asked.

“of course there are.” Replied the man.

“and mermaids too?” that was one moment when Hope was pretty sure Jane had jumped from somewhere in her imagination to the driver seat. She had asked the question before she realized how weird it sound. It was obvious, judging from the expression on the man’s face, he was staring as if she had suddenly grown horns. “you know,” she said, looking away, “I was just wondering.”

Pa Jacob didn’t speak for a while. Hope was startled by a roosting quail, wings fluttered with such sudden sound she ran. The large brown bird flew away. The old man laughed. Hope turned her attention to the silk of wind rustling the leaves on the tall trees, she sat at the foot of the neem not far from that particular statue. Overhead, hawks crowed from beyond the cliff.

“what do you think?” Pa Jacob finally asked.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged, “it sure is a fine lake.” She added that as emollient, which may probably stir rein of discussion to a less awkward topic.

“it is.” The old man said, staring dreamily, “isn’t it?” he sighed then asked, “Can you swim?”

Hope shook her head. The man’s bleary eyes stared her down. “then don’t get too close. If there are mermaids, I think they prefer people who can’t swim.” He scoffed.

Hope smiled, watching the butterflies fly erratically over wilting wild flowers, then up at the nearest statue, an angel.

She remembered then, the story Obi had told her before she arrived. “the boy drowned, it was Pa Jacob that saved the other boy.” He had told him, when she was asking silly questions. She was just trying to have fun then, but Obi had told him much.

“You saved a boy’s life.” Hope said still looking at that marble, a hand stretched, the other holding her flowers.

To her surprise, the man knew exactly what she was talking about. Hope guessed such incident make indelible memories. “yes, right there.” The man eagerly said. “and both couldn’t swim.” The double meaning wasn’t lost to Hope.

“do you remember their names?”