In life, there are people you'd think you would never talk to or even socialize with. That's what I thought. That was basically what everyone thought.

It made sense since a lot of us were very different from each other. We didn't run in the same circles or belong to the same cliques.

What we didn't know was that life had other plans for us.

What were the odds that we'd ever find love and comfort in those people we once saw differently?

Those people we never thought we'd talk to would end up being our saving grace and helpers.

◈ ━━━━━━━ ⸙ - ⸙ ━━━━━━━ ◈

Casper Bassey
Good morning, sunshine 😍😊
6:55AM

Kasy K
Good morning 🤗
6:56AM

Casper Bassey
How was your night?
6:56AM

Kasy K
Short. Didn't sleep much.
6:58AM

Casper Bassey
Aww
6:58AM

Casper Bassey
Why though?
6:58AM

Kasy K
We kept chatting till 3
7:00AM

Casper Bassey
Lol 😂 🙈 that's trueee
7:00AM

Casper Bassey
Hey you're taking time to reply, are you busy?
7:01AM

Kasy K
In case you didn't know, it's a Monday morning.
7:02AM

Kasy K
Aren't you going to school?
7:02AM

Casper Bassey
Uh...I am 😅
7:02AM

Casper Bassey
I guess I'm late 🤧
7:03AM

Kasy K
Yeah me too
7:04AM

Casper Bassey
I guess we'll talk later
7:04AM

Kasy K
Yeah, TTYL 🤗
7:05AM

Casper Bassey
😘😘😘😘
7:05AM

• • •

Sliding under vehicles looked easy when you weren't the one doing it. It looked fun even, but not until you come out and find out that there's greese on your cheeks.

This was something CJ was already used to. It was something he did on a daily basis to feed himself. He wouldn't say he enjoyed wearing a navy blue mechanic jumpsuit that could be used in place of a rag, but there was always this feeling of self worth and satisfaction that enveloped him when he fixed a car or even a bicycle.

Rico Mechanics was the only mechanic in Newland Estate. The mechanic shop was basically an open space behind the Estate's general football field. A lot of old, hopeless cars were abandoned here and there and some mango threes served as shades for the men while they worked.

They didn't really have the best equipment and machines but Sir Rico and his boys knew how to get work done.

"Hey, boy," Sir Rico called out to the boy who had half of his body under a Toyota Corolla, "how is it going?"

"Almost done," CJ's muffled voice came from beneath the car.

"Alright, well...when you're done, could you help Peter with painting that Honda Mr. Gbenga brought in? I'm afraid he'll mess it up," Sir Rico asked, bending a little so CJ could hear him clearly.

"Okay, no problem," CJ replied.

"Good, I need to run some errands, I'll be right back."

CJ heard his boss walk away after that while he tried finishing up what he had been doing.

Ten minutes later, he was almost done and couldn't wait to release himself from the punishment of being under a car when he heard someone call, "Chijioke!"

The voice was calm, strong and collected yet very loud but they weren't shouting. Most of all, it sounded very familiar. In fact, it wasn't even familiar since he knew exactly who they belonged to. No one else could sound that authoritative. And no one else would call him Chijioke.

It wasn't until they'd kicked him in the leg that he decided to get out from under the car and confirm that the orotund voice belonged to no other than Annika Malan.

CJ sighed.

He looked up at her from where he sat on the ground and he would admit, she looked good, too good. From the way she stood, her hip positioned to one side and her arms folded across her chest, one could tell she was a boss.

Her full, brown curly hair was put up in a high, tight bun as usual. Her pebble coloured blazer clung to her like a second skin and her skirt just above her knees. The morning sun seemed to be kissing her skin since she was glowing. Her naturally gold-like skin was legit looking shiny and it almost looked like her eyes were gold too as the sun reflected on them.

They held each others gaze for a few seconds as CJ waited for Annika to say something else. When she didn't, he simply went back under the car even though he had basically finished what he'd been doing.

Annika didn't know why she was surprised but she was. Being snobby was supposed to be her thing yet, here was CJ beating her at her own game.

She kicked his leg again, this time with anger and much force.

"What?!" CJ yelled when he pulled himself out from beneath the car. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and face seemed to be turning a bit pink.

"What are you doing?" Annika asked.

CJ thought it was a very stupid question and therefore, he gave a stupid answer, "I'm giving the car a blow job," he blurted out sarcastically, "what does it looks like I'm doing?"

"I'm going to pretend like you didn't just say that." Annika gulped a few times, she was trying hard to keep her cool especially since a bunch of CJ's coworkers were already giving them weird looks. CJ nearly rolled his eyes knowing that his colleagues would give him the third degree on who the fine babe he'd been talking to was or rather, they'd just go straight and assume she was his girlfriend. He wouldn't get the last of their teasing.

"Look, I'm busy...is there anything I can do for you? Or..."

Annika scoffed, she didn't even know why she'd bothered walking up to him when he was just going to be so dismissive and arrogant as usual. "My dad came to check on his other car before dropping off at school," she confessed. "I spotted you and wondered if you won't go to school. I didn't even know you worked here."

"Not today."

"But the NSP exam is today." Annika raised her eyebrows at how nonchalant CJ was being towards his education.

"So?"

"So...won't you take the exam?" Annika asked.

"Why would I want to take the exam?" CJ asked, looking more confused than ever. "Besides, even if I wanted to, I'm not qualified."

"Who says you're not qualified?"

"My average wasn't up to ninety percent," CJ replied.

"And how do you know that?" Annika asked, "You've never collected your result."

"Are you trying to tell me my own grades?" CJ raised his eyebrows. "Have you been monitoring me? How do you know I don't collect my results? Wait...do you check my results?" CJ's expression only deepened in confusion as he read meaning into Annika's word and bombarded her with questions.

"That's not what I said, don't flatter yourself," Annika was quick to defend herself, "I've been class captain for awhile. I know those who show up to collect their results on the last day of school and there's always an envelope left with the name Chijioke Collins Ikem on it. It's almost like you don't even care about your studies."

"So you agree that you open my results," CJ didn't ask, he stated. He didn't know when a coy smile had made its way to his lips as he watched a whole Annika Malan struggle with her words, he stopped smiling as soon as he took note of it.

"That's—"

Annika was interrupted by her father's voice after he'd called out to her from the other end of the mechanic workshop. It was time to go.

CJ took his time to look at Annika's father for awhile. Although he was a little far off, CJ could tell that Mr. Malan was probably a very strict man judging from the scowl on his face and the way he'd called out to Annika, not to talk more of the way she'd immediately run to him, forgetting that she had been talking to someone.

It would only make sense that Annika came from a strict family since she herself was a no-nonsense kind of person. The fact that she always found the slightest reason to talk to someone like him still marveled CJ.

Mr. Malan had been putting on Ankara print designed top and trousers as he stood next to his Range Rover waiting for his daughter. He'd been the one who had given Annika her looks and height. The resemblance was something CJ wasn't sure he'd seen before.

But Annika looked different sitting next to her dad in the passenger seat. She looked uncomfortable, on edge and scared?

• • •

"So, you're saying it's mandatory to come with someone?" Tari asked the woman over the phone.

"Yes, you'll need someone to take you home after the procedure, it's not advisable to come alone," the woman replied.

"Okay,"

"Is your appointment still on for today?" the woman asked.

"I'm not sure...I don't know," Tari replied, "I'll call back in an hour and let you know.

Tari cut the call after that and let out a sigh.

If someone had told her a few months that she would be booking an appointment with an abortion clinic, she probably would never have believed it, in fact, she would've rained curses on that person's generation.

This was her reality and she had to face it head on. She was tired of crying, questioning and blaming herself. This was something that happened to millions of girls all over the world and they came out of it alive and strong. She knew her case wouldn't be different.

It wasn't easy finding an abortion center in Abuja. In fact, it was nearly impossible.

She had called her friends in Lagos who she was sure had done abortions before and they all mentioned pills and the likes but Tari had heard stories, she didn't want to take that risk. Although anything she would be doing from that moment was a risk, she just didn't want to take that one, it didn't settle well with her. Her friends thought she was stupid for declining sure methods that had worked perfectly for them but she didn't want to do something her spirit didn't welcome. What if she ended up taking the wrong dose?

It was better she went to someone who hopefully knew what they were doing so they could get rid of the baby.

It was still through a friend in Lagos that Tari had gotten the contact of girl who had her abortion in clinic there in Abuja. It was through her that Tari had made enquiries and what not.

"Tari!" Mrs. Disemi called from the sitting room.

"Yes, mum!" Tari answered before standing up from her bed and heading towards the door. It was time to act Nollywood drama.

Tari walked into the sitting room and headed towards the dinning table where the rest of the family were already getting seated to eat breakfast. She held her stomach and squeezed her face while walking like an old woman who had waist pain.

"Ah ah, Tari, what is it?" Mrs. Disemi was the first to notice her daughter's supposed predicament.

"Mummy, stomach ache..." she trailed before taking the seat in between Timi and Tamara who were already dressed for school.

"Ah, is it that time again?" Mrs. Disemi asked, looking worried. Tari wanted to roll her eyes but that wouldn't go well with the shenanigan she was pulling. How could her mother ask 'is it that time again?' and expect everyone not to know she's talking about her menstrual cycle. But at least, now Tari could easily relate the stomach ache to menstrual cramps which was something she hadn't thought of, so she simply nodded to her mother's question.

She probably hadn't thought of menstrual cramps because she hadn't seen her period for awhile now.

"Just stay at home, don't go anywhere." Tari's father said as he too looked worried.

Timi and Tamara simply kept quiet since they knew Tari was pretending. They already knew their sister too well. If she was really feeling sick, she wouldn't leave her room even if she was told Davido was waiting for her in the living room for a private concert. Tari was lazy on a normal day, not to talk more of when she was sick. Unfortunately, their parents didn't know her tricks and she could get away with things like this.

It wasn't Timi's nor Tamara's business when Tari felt like staying at home or not. Besides, they didn't know the real reason she was pretending to be sick, they'd just assumed that since their parents were travelling to Lagos that morning, Tari simply wanted to stay in and watch TV, play music on the home theater and have it in the loudest volume—something she wasn't allowed to do when they were around.

Tari simply saw it as the perfect time to go have the abortion. Her parents wouldn't be around till the next day and hopefully, she'd be back before her siblings returned from school and even if she wasn't, she knew how to handle them.

After an extremely long and unnecessary prayer by her goody-two-shoes sister, Tamara, they finally got to eating breakfast. Tari knew she'd also have to act like she was having trouble eating the delicious fried plantains and potatoes with egg sauce which she truly wanted to devour, or else her mom would suspect she wasn't having any menstrual cramps.

"Before I forget," Mr. Disemi started, "Your friend, the Muslim girl," Tari wanted to roll her eyes badly. He'd already scolded her after their mom filled him in on what happened when Amira visited so she didn't understand why he was bringing it up again, "I just hope you're not planning on bringing her into this house or even going to visit her. Stay away from her."

"Yes, sir." Tari mumbled in response.

Everyone left the house after breakfast and Tari immediately picked up her phone to call Amira. Amira was the only person who could help her out at that moment. Hopefully, she'd agree to ditch school and go with her. And hopefully, she wasn't already in school.

• • •

Amira wore her blazer over her white shirt before knotting her tie around her neck. She looked herself over one more time in the mirror and sighed. Her big eyes looked like they would bulge out of their sockets from staying up all night to read.

The information about the NSP exam had come only the previous day and thereby taken everyone unawares as usual. If only Amira could get this scholarship, she would not only be making her parents proud but also escaping their perfectionist pressure.

She took her bag from her bed and walked out of the room only to meet her brother who didn't seem like he was planning on going anywhere not to talk more of school.

"Me yasa baku shirya makaranta ba?" (Why aren't you ready for school?) Amira asked him as he was equally stepping out of his room that was opposite hers.

"Wace makaranta?" (Which school?) he asked her, "Ba zan je ko'ina ba," (I'm not going anywhere,) he grumbled before walking away and heading to the sitting room.

Amira didn't have the time to start questioning her brother on why he didn't want to go to school but she simply assumed that he didn't want to go since classes might not even hold because of the NSP exam. Either that or he was simply avoiding his manual labour punishment.

"Tabbatar kun sami wannan tallafin karatu, ban tsammanin komai daga gare ku ba." (Make sure you get that scholarship, I expect nothing less from you.) That was Mr. Yusuf. Although the man was already in his early seventies, he still knew everything that happened around him and everything that went on in his household. Nothing could get past him.

"Ee, yallabai," (Yes, sir,) Amira mumbled, "Zan tafi yanzu," (I'm going now,).

"Lafiya, sa'a," (Alright, good luck,) Mrs. Yusuf said. "Za ku sami malanta, da yardar Allah." (You'll get the scholarship, by God's grace.)

Amira was about to step out of the flat  when she heard her phone ringing. She turned around and looked round the sitting room. Her father was sitting on the biggest couch, a newspaper in front of his face. Her mother was making her way in and out of the kitchen severally and Ahmed had just picked up the remote to turn on the television.

It was on the center table where Ahmed had just picked up the remote from that her phone laid. Ahmed looked down at the phone first before looking up at his sister who stood in front of the door.

"Ba za ku tafi ba? Kana son ka makara?" (Won't you get going? Do you want to be late?) Mr. Yusuf had closed the newspaper blocking his face and was now looking at Amira quizzically as she just stood in front of the door.

Amira knew it would be Tari calling. And she knew it must've definitely been an emergency for her to be calling that early. But then again, she was having her abortion that day, maybe she was nervous and calling to rant.

Amira left.

She left without picking the call or knowing why her friend was calling. She convinced herself that it was nothing important. Besides, she had a very important exam in an hour, she needed to focus.

• • •

"Every year, a student in either SS 2 or  SS 3 is awarded a scholarship to study abroad, this year it's Germany. This scholarship is not just given to a random student but the student is chosen from the academic elites of the school—students who have a ninety percent and above average at the end of every term. Now, the lucky student is the one who scores the highest in this particular exam. That is basically how the Newland Scholarship Program works. Any questions?"

The students sat still and quiet, looking at the NSP representative who walked round the exam hall waiting for their questions.

An SS 3 student raised her hand. "What if there's a tie?"

"Good. That's a good question," the man smiled, "there's never been a tie in the Newland Scholarship Program exam before but if there ever happened to be a tie, the students in question would take another exam which would break it or, they will both participate in a quiz competition with audience and everything,"

"What chances do the SS 2 students have of passing the exam?" Timi Disemi had asked.

"They have just as much chances as the SS 3 students but the only problem is that the SS 3 students are at an advantage since most of them have the experience of this exam, they wrote it in SS 2 just like you're doing. So even if as an SS 2 student, you don't get it, at least you have the experience and you'll come back more prepared and stronger next year." The NSP representative still answered with a smile.

The other NSP representatives stood at all corners of the large hall while some teachers and the Vice Principal stood at the entrance, they weren't allowed into the hall once the exam started. The NSP representatives would be the ones invigilating the exam.

Rumors had it that the exam was even more difficult than JAMB and students nearly lost their sanity sometimes while attempting the questions. But that didn't stop Annika. She sat at the front row, looking more serious than ever. One could tell that she came to win.

Amira sat at the second row wondering why students like Annika Malan and Bamidele Akindele were even sitting for the exam when their parents were on the NSP sponsorship board. Their parents funded the program and could obviously send their kids to Germany themselves.

The Newland Scholarship Program was funded by the high and mighty of Newland Estate. The program had been created to send a promising student abroad every year to further their education. The previous year it had been Australia, this year it was Germany, it could be any country next year but who cared? It was a scholarship after all.

One fact though: an SS 2 had never won the scholarship, ergo, the cause for Timi's earlier question.

Amira hated the fact there was so much competition in SS2. Looking round the hall she could see Bamidele Akindele next to Annika, trying to her attention. Timi Disemi checked his wrist watch and adjusted his glasses too many times out of nervousness.

Make no mistake, Annika was smart but so were the two other boys. Amira had barely managed to come second with a 97.4 average last term while Timi came third with a 97.1 average. Dele had came fourth with 96.8 average and as usual Annika was unreachable with her 98.8 percent.

And to think that those three people from her class weren't enough competition already, now Amira would have to compete with the Art students too because only one person would be chosen—whether Art or Science inclined. Of course, Kasy Kanayo was there, she was the top of her class with about 94.6 percent average. Adam Somoye was the next person after her with 93.9 average and then Tamara Disemi who came third with a 90.5 percent.

And those were the supposed academic elites of their set: Annika, Amira, Timi, Dele, Kasy, Adam and Tamara. They were seven while the SS 3 students were just four—two Science and Art students respectively. That's why Amira knew there would be so much competition. If only it wasn't so easy for her classmates to get up to ninety percent every term.

"Okay, so we're going to start now," a female NSP representative announced, "We're starting with English, after which you'll go on a short break and come back for your general papers."

The three other representatives began distributing the papers when one of them announced, "You have two hours for this paper. There are only twenty objective questions because our main focus is on your essay, you're required to pick two other essay questions after answering the first one which is compulsory,"

Kasy turned her question paper and searched for the essay question which was compulsory.

In not less than 450 words, write on why you would be the best student to study in Germany.

• • •

Dele wasn't sure he could still see anything clearly after the English paper, in fact, he would avoid anything that had to do with him reading and writing until the break was over. His fingers ached like there was no tomorrow and his head was pounding even when they were yet to write their general paper which would consist of Physics, Chemistry and Biology. He'd never written three consecutive essays in less than two hours and it was taking a toll on him.

In his weary state, he still managed to run after Annika after they'd left the hall. He had been trying to get her attention before the exam commenced but Annika never talked before an exam, Dele thought it was so that she wouldn't forget what she'd read.

"Hey, Anny, how was the exam?" He asked her after he'd reached her and tried to keep up with her pace as they walked down the empty passage.

Annika didn't reply. She just kept walking.

It was then that Dele knew that she wasn't trying to not to forget what she'd read earlier, she was just ignoring him.

No wonder she'd been snubbing his messages throughout the weekend and he knew what this was about.

"Why are you not talking to me?" Dele asked, "Is this about what happened with Timi?"

Annika still didn't say a thing but Dele knew the answer.

They were climbing down the stairs leading to the SS2 floor and the noise from that floor was becoming evident. Dele knew that as soon as they stepped into that floor, he wouldn't get the chance to talk to the Head Girl anymore. So he held unto her elbow, forcing her to turn around and look at him as they stood at the bottom of the stairs.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, looking very sincere.

Annika stared at him with her glistening eyes. "I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," she said before yanking her arm away from his grip and turning around.

"I know, I'm going to apologize to him," Dele said as he continued to keep up with Annika's pace. Damn, she was a fast walker.

"Don't apologize because I asked you to." She had stopped to look at Dele again, "Apologize when you really mean it because Timi is my friend, and I take anything that has to do with my friends seriously."

Dele's facial expression fell. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and said, "I thought I was your friend. I thought me, Sola, Enock and Ahmed were your friends? Your true friends."

"I never said you weren't. You guys are family but still, there are other people I still look out for," Annika explained.

"Like CJ?" Dele raised his eyebrows and Annika furrowed hers out of confusion. "I see the way you've been defending him in class and staring at him lately, Annika," Dele elaborated.

"Bullshit, Dele!" Annika exclaimed before she continued walking but Dele followed her.

"So he isn't one of the people you look out for?" Dele was persistent.

"I feel like you're trying to insinuate something dangerous." Annika stopped to look at Dele again but this time, her eyes were oozing venom and the boy in front of her had to take one step back.

"And I feel like you're taking interest in a dirty thief," Dele summoned the courage to say in a whisper since their classmates crowded the halls and anyone could hear them.

"Dele, drop it." Annika sighed. "I don't know what you think you saw but jealousy is not a good colour on you."

Annika walked away and Dele stood rooted to the ground, not bothering to chase after her.

• • •

The children's park on Monday mornings was always empty so it was easy for Tari so sit on one of the wooden benches, her purse next to her and her phone in her hand.

After she'd called Amira so many times and no answer, she decided to leave a message. A huge part of Tari knew Amira had gone to school, why wouldn't she?  Today was the NSP exam and Amira, being the overachiever she was, she wouldn't miss it even if she had two broken legs. But somehow, Tari was hoping that their friendship would be much more important to Amira than that stupid scholarship exam.

Tari sat there reading and rereading the message she'd sent to Amira, hoping she hadn't made any mistake in the message.

Please meet me in the park by 8... I need someone to go with me. They won't carry out the abortion if I don't come with someone.
7:20AM

Amira please I need to do this today. Don't disappoint me.
7:20AM

Please tell me you're coming... You're my only hope. Pleaseeeee!!!
7:21AM

SOS
7:22AM

Amira, please, I know I'm asking a lot but there's no one else I can call... Please come through for me just this once.
7:22AM

Amira please tell me u haven't gone to school.
7:23AM

Tari checked the time on her phone and it said 9:36AM. She'd been waiting for nearly two hours now, at that point, she'd exhausted the hope she was hanging on to. Amira wasn't coming.

What would she do? Who would come to her aid?

Tari was tired of asking these questions. She was tired of life. How had she gotten herself into this mess?

At a point she couldn't even blame Amira for not showing up. She wasn't the one who opened her legs for a boy, neither was she the one wanting to get rid of a baby. Amira wasn't that stupid and she didn't deserve to be dragged into this miserable reality. Tari's reality.

Tari felt like her chest weighed a ton. She couldn't even breathe, her chest felt tightened. Her eyes had began to produce water. She felt so alone.

Wouldn't it be better to just end it all.

She just wanted everything to stop.

This feeling of loneliness, guilt, self-hatred, self-disgust and the stigmatization that came with being a pregnant teenager.

She buried her face in her palms and cried her eyes out. Her sobbing was so loud and she was shaking uncontrollably. It felt like she couldn't breathe.

She had noticed a presence. Someone was standing in front of her, blocking the sun that had been hitting her but she didn't care. She cried even more.

She still sobbed loudly when whoever it was sat next to her on the wooden bench but she still didn't raise her head. They pulled her closer and her head found its way to their rock hard chest and their rough hand on her shoulder. That action made her cry even more. She knew it was a guy. His chest was like a rock and his chin rested on her head.

"I been see your message," the masculine voice murmured. Of course, it was familiar and Tari knew who it was but she wasn't sure.

What alarmed her was the fact that he'd seen her message and that was enough for Tari to stop crying and raise her head.

She came face to face with Ahmed Yusuf.

She stared at him, he did the same.

Their faces were only inches away from each other and his hand was still on her shoulder.

She knew who she was staring at but somehow he looked different.

Then Ahmed Yusuf said something she never thought she'd hear him say and in a way he never said anything.

Ahmed smiled. "I'm here for you."