| Imran Adebayo Ibrahim |

"Mr. Raymond, Mr. Okafor, why the hell were you lot fighting in the classroom? Do you think we run some kind of underage boxing show here?" Mr. Morales inquired, throwing his hand into the air at the same time crossing them.

Zayd scoffed, "Mr. Morales, my brother is supposed to be in the infirmary right now, not here, he fainted."

"Yeah." I heard Sahar concurred.

Mr. Morales clicked his tongue as he shook his head. "The infirmary? He needs to be suspended," he said leaning forward from his seat, gazing into my eyes intensely, "I know what you did, you lyin' brat," he whispered to me as I remained silent. "He didn't lose consciousness, he is a dirty liar." He announced and I instantly feigned surprise.

"Why would I do that?" I inquired, with a loud gasp.

"Because you're a dick-head." Chris finally said something, after minutes of silence. He had Band-Aids on his face, covering the cuts Zayd's fist had inflicted on it.

"Language, Mr. Okafor, you brought this upon yourself." Mr. Morales cautioned, frowning at us. "Detention. . . All of you."

"What? I didn't do anything, that's not fair," Sahar complained.

"Not fair? Do you think the police are just in their arrest? Those bastards just arrest people they see on the crime scene. So y'all are accomplice, you should be thanking your stars I didn't suspend y'all, maybe I should even consider expulsion," He added, his hand caressing his beard.

"Aren't you gonna ask Imran what happened? It's obvious Chris started it." Sahar stated.

Chris threw Sahar a furious gaze, "that's why I never liked you, you're too geeky for my liking. . . Y'know what, you and Imran fit perfectly, two weird nerds." He remarked, chuckling at his wit, wincing as his injury widened as he laughed.

I just remained silent — that was it, I was getting expelled. The first time I decided to face my fear, it came with a bad aftermath. I've never gotten suspended before, expulsion was top tier that rank.

A sudden silence washed over the principal's office as someone entered. The familiar fragrance was unmistakable, perceiving it I felt rage building inside me. It belonged to the person that paired me up with Chris instead of doing her job — Miss Charlene.

"What does she want now?" Surprisingly, me and Chris chorused, scoffing.

Miss Charlene had probably shown Chris her annoying side as well. She can never hide that part of her, it's as if she graduated with a PhD in Vexology. She just gets on everyone's nerves.

"Miss Johnson, welcome." Mr. Morales' frown suddenly broke into a smile as he stood up, "what are you doing here?" He inquired further, with an absolute coquettish smile.

Such a pimp. He is so clueless — thinking no one got the hint about his hidden crush on the therapist. Well, the two of them will make a great couple, and they'll give birth to a bunch of annoying kids.

"It's Charlene." She corrected Mr. Morales.

I rolled my eyes, groaning inaudibly.

Mr. Morales rubbed the back of his head, "sorry, Miss Charlene." He corrected himself, smiling like an idiot.

"I heard the boys had a skirmish moment earlier today," she began, everybody's gaze was on her, watching her in awe.

Skirmish moment? I had my groin busted.

"Yeah, actually it led to a big fight." Mr. Morales explained, his stupid toothy grin still plastered on his face.

"Can you please let me handle the two boys, while you handle the remaining delinquents?" She requested, more like she was ordering him.

"Oh. . . Yeah, that's doable." Mr. Morales accepted, with a smile. "Imran and Christopher, Miss Johnson—"

He was cut short by Miss Charlene. "Charlene, please."

"Oh sorry, Miss Charlene will take care of your behavior and I don't want to hear any funny stories from her afterwards, or else I'll extend your Detention days, and trust me, I'll make it look like jail time." He threatened with a smirk, "you can now be dismissed, leave my office."

Vexed, Sahar stood up and walked out of the principal office, Zayd also followed after giving me a reassuring tap on the shoulder.

Chris and I followed Miss Charlene behind, with each step we took, I schemed a plan to run away.
The session we were going to have inside her office would be so awkwardly annoying. I couldn't even begin to fathom how it would be. Being vulnerable in the presence of Chris, no thank you.

"Thank you for coming with me." Miss Charlene said before shutting the door close behind us.

We took our seats, and I watched as Miss Charlene sat down, bringing out her notepad. My eyes drifted to the pendulum, watching its steady back-and-forth motion like I always do. Chris, on the other hand, seemed more interested in Miss Charlene's pen collections, he began popping their caps off and tossing them away with his usual nonchalant attitude.

"I'm disappointed in both of you, shame on you," Miss Charlene's voice broke the silence, slicing through the room like a knife. I didn't care about her words, she brought this upon us.

Chris didn’t seem to care as well, as he continued messing with the pens. I glanced at him, hoping he’d show some sign of remorse for hitting me, but his defiance only seemed to deepen. The frustration bubbled up inside me.

"As if it's not your fault," I snapped at Miss Charlene, "I could've been killed today by this—" I paused, turning to Chris, who was glaring at me furiously, "murderer," I whispered the last part, but it was loud enough for everyone to hear.

"I heard you alright, you fool. Look at how your bruh destroyed my face, jerk," Chris shot back, his voice dripping with venom. He moved as if he might strike me again.

"Stop bickering!" Miss Charlene yelled, her voice louder and more forceful than I had ever heard it. The room fell silent, as both our mouths widened in shock. Miss Charlene never yelled.

For a moment, we just stared at her,  It was clear that this session was different, and maybe, just maybe, Miss Charlene was finally giving-up on us. I don't know for Chris, but I am quite difficult to be psychoanalyzed.

"Listen to yourselves, bickering like a girl." Miss Charlene said, her eyes widening in surprise.

"A shawty." Chris corrected her, still fiddling with the pen caps.

"Thank you, Christopher, it's called shawty, yeah? Why don't you tell that to your workaholic dad?" Miss Charlene leaned in with a knowing gaze. "Oh. . . he doesn't have time for you, he's too busy making canned soda." She answered herself, watching as Chris' face contorted in disbelief.

Damn, Miss Charlene — that was harsh.

Chris was my archenemy, but what Miss Charlene did was wrong. Those sessions they had were supposed to be private. "Aren't you violating some kind of rules? It's not cool—"

She cut me off, eyes narrowing. "Oh, so you’re suddenly a smart one, huh? I don't see you solving your predicaments while you were about to mansplain my work to me."

Burn. She really went there. Not cool, at all. Her dead professors at Harvard would probably be rolling in their graves.

Chris burst into a loud laughter. "God, Miss Charlene, who would've thought you were fun? This is nice—" Chris said, turning to me, placing his hand on my shoulder. "Sorry bro."

I remained silent, too stunned to speak.

"We done here?" Chris asked, standing up. "I think we're done here."

"Would you sit your stupid ass down, boy, before I smack the medulla into your oblongata," Miss Charlene snapped, pointing sharply. "You're just a sad, pathetic scapegoater who needs affirmation anywhere he can find it."

"Yo ma'am, I'm sitting, you don't need to go all Mildred Ratched on me." Chris said, hands raised in surrender, sitting back down.

"Y'all are two disappointments, we had a deal." She stated, at that instance, I realized she'd made the same deal with Chris.

"The idiot ruined my phone, he couldn't take a little joke." Chris mentioned as his tapping on his phone persisted. The phone was long gone, it was all broken and full of ink.

"Enough with the excuses, you promised me to behave, didn't you?" She glared at Chris. "And you, Imran, you promised me you'd be a good little boy—" She said, and I remained mute. My hurt expression was palpable, and I noticed Miss Charlene saw it too, "—guys, I'm so sorry I said that, but you two are behaving like brainless chickens," Miss Charlene apologized, her face softening with regret as she clasped her hands together.

We both shrugged, glancing at each other briefly.

Miss Charlene continued, "Chris, you need to know that your father loves you, he might be busy but he does everything he is doing for your own good — you can't keep on bullying kids all because you've got daddy issues."

I couldn't resist the urge to laugh, it sputtered out instantly, Chris' death glares made the laughter disappear, as I cleared my throat. Miss Charlene sure knew the right button to press — taking pissing-people-off lessons from her would be great. She was gifted.

"You need to mirror your anger into something creative, you can always talk to him, I know he'd listen." She added, then turning to me, her eyes narrowing slightly. "And you, Imran—" She called and I gulped down the lump in my throat, "—you don't need people's affirmation about how strong you are, you are worth it, you can overcome any challenge boy, don't let nobody tell you nothing about how weak, wimpy, soft you're, all those characteristics makes you unique, I admire you for that."

Same old affirmation talk I got from everyone. Her affirmation was somewhat comforting and easing. She was indeed good at what she does.

"This woman talk dey make sense, small-small," Chris muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

"Aswear," I agreed, nodding.

"You see, you agree on something," Miss Charlene pointed out, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

For the first time in forever, we agreed on something.

Miss Charlene looked at us with a knowing gaze. "Chris, what you need is a real friend," she said, her tone softening. "And Imran, you need to affirm yourself everyday."

I thought her advice was brilliant, and both of our faces softened, the tension between us easing slightly. Maybe it was her plan from the start, maybe she knew we would end up busting each other's faces, that was why she merged us together to be study-buddy. The smug look on her face was the answer I was looking for — she knew all along.

Miss Charlene pressed on, leaning forward. "You’re both Nigerian. You should unite." She added.

Chris cut her short, rolling his eyes. "Tell it to Mr. Know-it-all, behaving like he’s the smartest of us all."

I was taken aback by his statement, my face flushing with anger. "All you ever do is bully me, talk shit about me, and now you're saying I'm intimidating?" I snapped, fists clenching at my sides.

"I wasn't saying that, but you're too much. Remember your first day here? You tried to make a joke to get noticed, like you were seeking attention. After that day, people began talking about you like you were some kind of god. Even Ella invited you to her party. Not to mention having Zayd as your stepbrother," he explained, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned closer.

Instead of being moved, I felt rage coursing through my veins. My fists clenched at my sides. "Oh my God, that day was unexpected! You think I wanted to disgrace myself on purpose? You think I want to be known as the kid who's Nigerian just to see his classmates? Did you even think I wanted to move to Atlanta in the first place?" I fumed, nibbling on my lower lip as tears threatened to spill from my eyes.

"Beautiful, keep on talking," Miss Charlene said softly. I glanced at her and saw she had been taking notes, her pen poised and ready. "Your emotions are valid."

"He be like say dis woman dey craze," Chris said in Pidgin English, smirking and giving me a knowing glance.

"No cap," I concurred, chuckling wryly at his comment.

Miss Charlene clicked her fingers rhythmically, her expression stern. "No broken English in my office, and don't even think for one second that I don't understand what you said," she announced. "As I said, it's great you both shared how you're feeling, and I think I have a solution."

Miss Charlene leaned forward, her expression softening. "The solution is simple: you two need to bury the hatchet," she said, looking between us with a steady gaze. "Holding onto this anger isn't helping either of you."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, avoiding Chris's eyes. He folded his arms across his chest, his jaw tightening. "Bury the hatchet?" he repeated, cunningness dripping from his words.

"Yes," Miss Charlene continued. "You both have more in common than you realize. Misunderstandings and hurt feelings can fester if not addressed. So, let's start fresh."

Chris rolled his eyes, but I could see a tinkle of uncertainty in them. I sighed softly. "Fine," I muttered, my shoulders slumping. "But it's not going to be easy."

Miss Charlene nodded. "I know. But it's a step in the right direction. Why don't you both try to find something positive to say about each other?" She suggested.

Chris glanced at me, then looked away, tapping his foot on the floor. "Well, uh, you do have a good sense of humor and your fighting skills are lit," he admitted grudgingly.

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. "And you're pretty good at kicking people's groin, as well," I offered, feeling a bit awkward as Chris chuckled, nodding in acceptance.

Miss Charlene smiled. "See? That wasn't so hard, even if your language was lewd. Now, let's work on building from there. Small steps can lead to big changes." She chanted.

Chris exhaled loudly, like he'd released a lot of burden through his nostrils. "It's over, I’ll try to stop. Imran is too cute to be bullied," he added with a reluctant smile.

I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Now, can you shake hands on your new beginnings?"

I was hesitant at first, but I took Chris' hand, his emotions seemed legit and candid.

"Beautiful!" Miss Charlene clapped, "it's so easy—" she said checking the wall clock, "I'm afraid our time is up, but I'll tell you something, if you two keep behaving like human beings, then you won't have to see my fine face again." She announced.

"We will behave from now on." Chris agreed, nodding at me with lips pressed against each other.

"Yeah." I concurred.

We stood up and walked out of the office after both waving at miss Charlene. On our way out, Chris leaned in and whispered to my ears, "Tell anybody about this little session and I'll end you," his eyes narrowing into a warning glare. I pressed my lips together and ran a finger across them from one corner to the other, mimicking the act of closing an imaginary zipper. "Better, see you soon, dawg." He mumbled to me as he walked ahead of me.

As I walked outside, I could see Chris and his possé standing by the door and talking.

"What are you looking at, geek?" Suleiman snarled, frowning at me.

"Bro, don't you get tired?" Chris inquired, "let's bounce." He said and his possé obeyed him, they all walked ahead of me. Chris' possé couldn't help but glare at Chris with surprise as they walked off.

I sighed, at last, I was free from Chris and his gang. As I walked off, my smartphone chimed, I retrieved it from my pants pocket and checked who the notification was from. It was from Zayd's mother.

Ayesha Hakim: Oh baby, I lost your contact. Mama's sorry for not being available. I'll make up for my bad behavior, I'm currently in Atlanta, I'll pop by the house today, see you soon, love.

I read the message and my heart dropped. I was in deep shit.

Author's Note

Damn, shits about to get real. Do vote, comment and share as you like. Who's ready to see Ayesha? Do you think Zayd will ever forgive Imran?

Glossary

1. Pidgin English: is a type of English, originated from Creole, popularly known as broken English, spoken by Nigerians and other African countries.

2. He be like sey dis woman dey craze: means it's like this woman is out of her mind.