What do you think about the new cover?
*****

“you were the lake yesterday?”

It was morning, class was yet to start and the first thing Obi would do, walking right in still holding his bag was asking her a question.

Hope stared at the boy, drinking his looks all in, his neat school uniform that wouldn’t be that neat before lunch time, the dried in ink stain on his top, the stitches just below his breast pocket, lastly, his shoe, a black polished shoe she was quite certain will be all dusty at the end of the day. Why do you even try? She wanted to ask. But she felt a joke coming on, lowering her voice she said, “and you have a problem with that?”

Obi rolled his eyes, “that’s a question!”

“which demands an answer.”

“but I asked first.”

“Ladies first. So answer me. How is that your business what I do with my spare time?”

“you still mad about the chapel incident, Jeez!” he said, walking away.

“and you still owe me.” Hope called after him.

“whatever.” He muttered.

Hope looked back moments later to see Peter and Obi head bent over his desk, talking. Whatever mischief they were up to, Hope didn’t care.

“I know, I know, there are mermaids there and it’s totally unsafe.” Hope told Obi, the next time he broached the topic over lunch.

“actually there is no such thing as mer_” Matthew ate the rest of his words, pretending to not see the look on Obi’s face.

“actually, I don’t believe that.” Obi said, there was nervous tick in his cheek, a cunning to his looks. “I just saw you yesterday… forget it.” He said.

His eyes suddenly went wide, he picked the remaining spring roll and the bottle of Fanta. “see you later.” he hastily said and was out. Peter followed.

“Hey.” A different voice came from behind.

“uh oh.” Matthew muttered.

Hope turned back to see that it was Ada, “been a while since music class.” Hope smiled.

“Say no more.” Ada waved dismissively. “Hey, Matthew.”

“Hello.” Matthew replied, stuttering actually. What’s up with them?

“Just passing by.” Ada said smiling one long wide innocent smile at Hope, then gave Matthew a gentle tap on the head. Two tentative tap tap like she was choosing an apple from the box. “see you some other time.”

“bye.” Hope reluctantly replied and resumed her meal.

Matthew sighed.

“what was that all about?”

Matthew stared glumly, acting like he had suddenly gone deaf.

Whatever explain the whole weirdness of the past five minutes, Hope was curious to be in the know. She was the new girl surrounded by weird boys, whatever is there to know, she would eventually know, someone just needed a nudge.

“It’s not nice to intrude on people’s conversation.” Hope muttered.

“It’s just a contribution.” Said Matthew, in between sniffs.

“see how it’s working out for you.” Hope said, “by the way, we’ve been having lunch together for like three weeks now, can I call you Matt?”

The boy looked up, surprised obviously. the look on his face quickly transited from curiosity to suspicion. He turned quickly staring at the content of his plate. He shrugged. “I guess so.”

“So, what’s up?”

“two boys drowned in the lake long ago. Some student think the place is haunted which I think is absurd… but there is this rumor about that every once in a while students disappear only to return later sometimes dead, or alive with no relatable story, like that mermaid myth.”

Hope wondered if Matthew was willingly avoiding the question. But it was almost past lunch time and she was done. “that would make a nice plot for a creepy pasta. Sorry Matt,” Hope said, standing up, “I’m not into such, not anymore.”

Matthew shrugged, “me either. But I’m from around here, and there are certain myths about this place among locals.”

“really?”

“something about the former owners of this place, something about the shadow people.”

An obscene wind froze her on her feet, it was as if the hall suddenly went quiet. Did Matthew just mentioned something about shadow people? Hope laughed, nervous now. “yeah, nice try.” And basically hurried away.

*****
Hope had heard of people who had luckily stumbled on fortunes, some peasant digging a well only to discover priceless artifacts (like those of the nok) buried underneath, could be large gold bangles, potteries, gemstones, submerged artilleries, stuffs that might end up in a museum, or at least an antique store and finally find a resting place with some weirdo’s basement where it might gather dust, and sometimes value (at least as a heirloom). But hope never had so much luck as to find a missing 50 kobo coin.

Class was over, that Wednesday and she found herself in the library hoping to find a solution to some AP math question, their terrorist teacher had posed. She logged in with her student ID, and as they say, the rest was history. In thirty minutes she was sure she had found the solution to the Boolean algebraic question.

There was that brief moment when her fingers wiggled tempted above the keypad, that desire to search for something not remotely related to her studies, just for breath of fresh air, a little light read. Maybe log in on WriteIt perhaps.

She looked up at the student librarian, the boy was barely moving. The only thing moving was the pages, his wrist and his eyes following the lines. Hope wondered if HarryPotter noticed her entering in the first place.

She typed the google address, and watch their start page load up. Hope was a breath away from typing WriteIt when her fingers, as if with consciousness of their own took to typing ‘mysterious disappearance in Santa Maria High.” She instantly grew conscious of her rapid heartbeat and sweat beading on her brow despite the air conditioning.

Two links stood out of several others. ‘Students turned up drowned after missing for two days’ it wasn’t the first time she’s seen that link, she had while she was looking up the school; that day, however, she didn’t remember clicking, she was distracted by a message that popped up on her Instagram account, and from there time whirled on till she forgot her purpose.  This time she wouldn’t’ make that mistake. She clicked on the link and read. In summary there was nothing new than what she had been told, it’s just that now she saw a picture on the page, reportedly taken by one of the students who secretly owned a camera. She saw Pa Jacob hunched over the one that most likely had survived. The one that survived was John Dike, a junior student, and the dead boy was older, Tobi Mascot a senior student.

At the end of the article, it said, “it must be recalled that seven years ago, a student by the name KENNY BADMUS had committed suicide on the school property after missing for days as well...”

‘KENNY BADMUS’ the name might as well be a neon sign flashing at her from the screen. Of course many people went by that name, but she wondered how coincidental it might sound if her mother’s boyfriend had that same name too, and was in this school at about that same time. Spooky right?

The blog was written in 2004 and the writer went by the name ‘John Constantine...’ Might as well call herself the headless Jerk. Hope thought. The name was definitely fake, she concluded, when she read, ‘…mystic, student of the hidden art.”

Then she was back at the ‘flashing neon sign.’

She doubled back to the google search result and clicked on the second link whose page title read. ‘Delirious student commits suicide.’ The article was from a major news website, ‘thisday.com’

‘A promising student ended his life last night in Santa Maria High school, …, Delta State, Nigeria… the student, Mr John Dike had jumped from the balcony late that night, after he went went missing days before…

‘…he had been delirious, raving about some shadow coming for him,’ a nurse at the school clinic told our news men, ‘he was admitted, to be transferred to the nearby hospital which had sent an ambulance when few minutes later, he was gone.”

The last anyone saw of John Dike, alive was at the clinic…

Hope pushed her chair back. She wouldn’t do this; she couldn’t continue dredging up every dirty laundry to fuel her paranoia.

But when she stood up, she headed for the reference section and got the 1996-year book. Alice Mark wasn’t hard to find; Badmus Kenny, the then soccer captain wasn’t hard to locate as well. In a group photograph, both stood side by side in the crowd, grinning at her. She slammed the pages shot with a soft thud that carried across the empty isle.

She bit back tears, dropped the book with the librarian and hurried out.

She had disturbed the hornets’ nest, and she was quite sure this is the second time in two weeks. First was at the chapel and now following the nudge of that weirdo Matt. See who is living the creepy pasta now?

Hope wasn’t alien to the circumstances about her birth, though she had clung to the term she’s known growing up. Her grandmother was simply Mother and actual mother was Aunty Alice, and of course Badmus Kenny had been the reason for her existence against the rules of society and Catholicism.

Now get up and put this madness behind you! She told herself, wiping the tears off her face, she washed her face in the girls’ bathroom, wiped the moisture off with some tissue. Few minutes later, she had attained a level of composure. She picked her bag and turned to leave.

“Hey!” a familiar voice echoed from behind her when she got to the hallway. It was Mathew, she could tell from the timid reluctance. Without looking back, she shouted, “get lost!”

She was in no mood to talk to anyone and God help her if Nora had to pester her with her sad pathetic whining about how Lisa is taking all the space about Anthony Laurence.