Every story has a beginning- a starting point, but this one doesn't. You might think you'd started from the beginning but it's far from it. And to be honest, no one knows the beginning. No one can actually say when things began to get so messed up. Or maybe, everyone was always messed up.

Like I said, everyone thought they were one thing or the other even before the story started and although some of us were trying to become something, I guess I was trying to get by.

We all did things we weren't proud of, either because we were trying to have fun or because we were simply acting on our teenage hormones. So it will be fair, as you continue to with this story of ours, try not to judge us.

◈ ━━━━━━━ ⸙ - ⸙ ━━━━━━━ ◈

Ms. Isong couldn't deny the fact that CJ was actually good looking young man but he obviously needed to take care of himself more.

Still standing at the class entrance, the young lad tried as much as possible to avoid every eye contact especially when Ms. Isong was casting her judgemental gaze on him. CJ hated being judged. He hated the fact that people got to assume stuff about his life when they didn't know him.

"Why are you this late? It's past nine." He heard the young lady's strident voice once more and that made him avert his gaze and blink a few times but he never looked up to meet her eyes.

"I..." He trailed off, knowing that whatever excuse he was going to give-true or false-would always sound stupid to anyone who wasn't in his shoes. CJ knew people never cared about other people's problems-not genuinely. He never bothered sharing his baggage with any living being because he knew that they would only tell him how they had it worse and do little to nothing in helping him.

"I woke up late." He ended up saying and Esther didn't know exactly what to say. She highly doubted the fact that he'd woken up late but there was nothing she could do about it. Besides, disciplining latecomers wasn't exactly one of the things she'd planned on doing on her first day.

"What did you say your name was?" This time, Ms. Isong approached CJ slowly, and in turn, the skinny boy took two steps back and she had to stop in her tracks because she was starting to get worried that CJ would run out of the classroom if she'd decided to take one more step. At that point, CJ was only confusing the young lady.

Since CJ never replied to her question, Ms. Isong sighed and took another look at how rough and tattered the boy was looking and felt like she wouldn't be doing her job properly if she didn't ask him to fix himself. "Could you at least tuck in your shirt?"

"Teacher, you're just wasting your time, he'll show up tomorrow looking worse." Tari, the overactive girl with too much lip gloss spoke up again and all heads turned to her including Ms. Isong who thought the girl should learn to mind her business.

Before Ms. Isong could even come up with a response, another voice spoke up. This voice was much orotund and commanding that even Ms. Isong had to scan the classroom for the owner. "Tari, try minding your business for once and see how the world would be a better place."

It was no other than Annika Malan who had spoken. A few of the students snickered and whispered but asides from that, no one uttered a word. Even Tari and her clique who actively shot glares and bore holes into Annika's back with their eyes didn't bother talking back at the Head Girl.

Ms. Isong felt like she should've said something but she decided not to add fuel to the fire that already seemed to be dying down. By the time she'd turned back to CJ, he'd managed to lazily stuff his shirt into his pebble coloured trousers like a three-year-old would do and that didn't help him look any smarter, serious, or student-like.

"See as Canada resemble village headmaster!" Ahmed loudly made jest of CJ and laughed loudly at the lad who still looked hideous after an attempt to fix himself. Soon, most of the students joined in on the laughing.

"Just go to your seat." Ms. Isong uttered, seeing as the poor boy was only facing further humiliation because of what she'd asked him to do.

As CJ made his way over to the back row, he angrily untucked his shirt as his classmates just watched and continued laughing.

"So why didn't Annika scold Ahmed for what he said?" Tari asked Amira who was focused on the angry-looking CJ walking past her to the back seat, "Why is it only when Tari speaks that Annika will get annoyed?"

"Don't mind her. It's just because Ahmed is her friend." Amira acknowledged her friend's question.

"I'm starting to get fed up with her discrimination and bossy attitude," said Tari. "Is it because she's Head Girl?"

"She's been like that even before she was made Head Girl," Amira replied before turning her attention back to Ms. Isong who seemed to be explaining the note on the board.

CJ slumped down on his seat next to a dark-skinned girl who seemed to be staring at him intently but he ignored her since he didn't know her and he didn't care. After he'd retrieved an exercise book from his shoulder bag, he mindlessly flipped through the pages before realizing he'd forgotten to get a pen.

The girl next to him was still looking at him and when he'd decided to turn to her, she was smiling. Without giving the impression that he was utterly creeped out, he simply turned away immediately. He knew he'd seen the girl around but he couldn't tell if she was in his class or the Art class since he never paid attention and never bothered developing any social skills in the sixteen years of his life.

CJ scanned the class, looking for the nearest person who was distracted enough not to notice their pen had disappeared. Or luckily, he'd find a pen casually laying on the floor and he wouldn't have to steal one.

Through his peripheral vision, he saw the girl next to him slide a piece of paper on their wooden desk till it was next to his exercise book in front of him.

He looked down at the piece of paper and read the not-so-good-looking writing the alphabets were scribbled with.

'What are you looking for?' was the first and only thing written on the paper and CJ had to look up at the girl who still had a slight smile dancing on her big, black lips. CJ thought she smiled a lot for someone afraid of being caught talking in class - that must've been the reason why she'd decided to write down what she was going to say instead.

CJ simply looked away without saying anything to the girl as he continued his search for a free pen. He wasn't going to give anyone room to make jest of him again. The fact that he couldn't afford his pen was humiliating enough.

The girl seemed to have given up and continued writing in her notebook while he just folded his arms and stared at the wooden desk aimlessly. CJ hoped she didn't get the wrong idea and thought he'd ignored her because she wasn't pretty. Although he didn't care what anyone thought of him, he didn't want her getting the wrong idea but he wasn't going to explain himself either so she'd just have to settle with the wrong idea.

To his classmates, CJ Ikem was already a snub, a weirdo, a pig, a thief, and a psychopath so adding rude to the list would be the easiest thing to do considering he already had higher rankings and CJ was okay with that.

• • •

The way Monica Essien glared at Zehan, one would never guess that they were mother and son, on the contrary, you'd think that they were sworn, enemies.

Zehan would usually cry himself to sleep whenever he tried to remember one time his mother had looked at him with the kind of love mothers usually felt for their children in movies and most times in real life. The fact that he hadn't run away from home already was marveling - even to him.
"Zehan, are you not the person I'm talking to?" His mother had decided to take a break from their glaring contest as she squinted her eyes and adjusted on the armchair.

Zehan just stood in front of his parents like a commissioned statue. He didn't bother blinking or moving a muscle on his face as his gaze was intently fixed on the light-skinned woman that was supposed to be his mother.

"Zehan, answer your mother's question." Raheem Essien sat next to his wife and spoke calmly and slowly as though he had a gun pointed at him. Zehan only took two seconds to look at his father before turning back to his mother.

Instead of speaking, the sixteen-year-old looked around the flat that was so familiar yet so foreign. It had been eight months since he'd stepped foot in the place that was supposed to be his home. Zehan scoffed when he scanned the cream-painted walls and the framed pictures hung on them.

"Where are my pictures?" Zehan asked and his father sighed before pinching the bridge of his nose, knowing exactly what was coming.

"Zehan, don't answer my question with a stupid question because you're not mad." Monica barked but Zehan kept looking around, hoping that his parents hadn't completely gotten rid of him since he was away.

Tears clouded his vision as he felt his chest begin to tighten and his legs become weak. Every picture in the house was that of Ismael and somehow, the pictures with him in it must've been taken down and replaced with more pictures of his brother.

"If you think I'm letting you stay here, then you're very wrong," Monica said exactly what Zehan was afraid she'd say. His father on the other hand never uttered a word not to talk more of raising his voice in protest. Raheem had even done well to avoid eye contact with his son.

"If you want to kill yourself, that's your business but you won't be doing it in my house!" His mother went further to say. Her words were like bullets aimed directly at Zehan and he didn't know when he would ever be bulletproof but her words stung.

"You're going back to your grandmother," Monica said with a tone of finality. One might think she was the head of the family.

"His grandma won't have him anymore," Raheem mumbled while looking down at the red rug that adorned the floors of the sitting room.
Monica turned to her husband with a questioning look. "What do you mean?"

"This is the second time he's tried to..." Raheem trailed, not having the willpower to say the words. "Mama said he's our son and we should be the ones to... handle him."

"My son died eight months ago." Monica was quick to say. You could still see the sadness in her eyes whenever the topic of Ismael's death was brought up.

Zehan couldn't take it anymore. He just had to leave or else he would've broken down in front of his parents which he didn't want. He didn't want them to see him crying because to them, he didn't deserve to cry after what he'd done.

"Come here! Where are you going to?" He heard his mother yell before he finally opened the door to his room and went in.

As soon as he stepped in, he immediately regretted it. It was then that Zehan had realized that his parents had not only taken down his pictures in the parlor but they'd also gotten rid of his bed and every other thing that belonged to him in the room he used to share with Ismael. It was Ismael's room now.

His parents had personalized the room for someone dead. Only Ismael's bed, clothes and pictures were left. They'd even positioned Ismael's small bed in the middle. Usually, their beds were meant to be against the walls, facing each other. It used to be a perfect room for twins. Now, it was a perfect room for Ismael alone.

Zehan finally broke down. He felt like he was in a foreign land. He didn't feel at home anymore. During the last eight months, all he'd wanted was to be with his family. All he'd wanted was to come home and now that he did, he wanted to run away.

Leaving the door ajar, Zehan walked into the corridor and headed towards the bathroom. He locked himself in and sat on the toilet. He propped his elbows on his thighs and buried his wet face in his palms.

Zehan used to think his parents never loved him right from the day he was born. It was only a thought until Ismael died. Now, he knew they didn't love him, they never did. They were only putting up with him because they were stuck with him.

He knew they wouldn't feel a thing if he decided to take his own life but that wasn't why he'd wanted to do it. He only wanted to lift the burden of having to pretend they cared about him from them. He would have to try harder to make that a possibility.

• • •

Kasy hated break time and free periods not because she was such a nerdy and smart student like Annika but because during those times, people had the liberty to do whatever they wanted with the absence of a teacher.

Luckily for her, she would normally spend those long minutes with Kendrick in the computer lab if he was less busy. Having her older brother as a teacher in school had its perks but the complications and awkwardness that came with it were almost unbearable.

"Flat chest, how far na?" Ahmed cooed as he descended the stairs with Enock following suit.

Kasy had to step out of the way for them to pass before she made to ascend the stairs while trying to ignore their mocking laughter and stupid remarks about how she'd utterly failed in developing breasts and yansh like the other girls her age. If only they knew how their teasing had kept her up at night.

Before she could even climb three steps, another teenage boy blocked her path. He was probably coming from wherever his friends were coming from.

Bamidele Akindele looked down at Kasy with both his hands stuffed in his pockets. He stared at her for a while before an amused look appeared on his face for reasons Kasy couldn't understand. Did she have particles of the cheese balls she'd eaten some minutes ago on her mouth?

"What is it? Why are you laughing?" Kasy asked while touching her lips and jaw and finding nothing on them.

"I wasn't laughing... yet," Dele replied her with his smoky voice which Kasy found alluring. "You look funny whenever I see you." He added before walking past her, down the last three steps.

"Tell your friends to stop calling me flat chest," Kasy said before Dele could go far. She was now looking down at him although he was very well taller than her.

Dele chuckled and Kasy loved the way his eyes sparkled whenever he was amused. "I'm not even sure they know your name, so you'll just have to manage flat chest for now. Or do you prefer flat yansh?"

"Dele, I'm not joking. You're the one who started this stuff so stop it," said Kasy with a pleading tone.

"Okay, then write down your name so that I'll teach them how to pronounce it later." Dele joked. Kasy found it annoying but she couldn't possibly ever get angry with him.

"Dele, I'm serious."

Dele only shook his head in amusement before saying, "We'll talk later."

He always said that to her but they never talked anymore.

"Dele, what happened?" Kasy asked before Dele could turn around and just like that, Dele's grin disappeared. Kasy didn't expect him to but he understood perfectly well what she was talking about. "To us..." She added and Dele's expression only got worse.

Dele looked away - something he did whenever he was uncomfortable. "I'll see you around, Kasy."

Kasy watched the lad walk away. She hadn't even noticed that for once in months, Dele had actually called her by her name and not some ridiculous nickname he'd made up, she only cared to know why all her friends had deserted her ever since the incident with Zehan. Somehow, she blamed Zehan, or maybe she was simply looking for someone to blame for her misfortune.

Those thoughts remained with her until she climbed the remaining stairs leading up to the second floor where all the school laboratories and some empty rooms were located.

A few SS 3 students were making their way out of the Chemistry lab with their lab coats worn over their school uniforms. Asides from the chatters from the SS 3 students, the corridors were quiet and deserted.

Without knocking, Kasy pushed the door of the computer lab open and walked in. The computer lab was one of the few rooms in Newland Secondary that had air conditioning and Kendrick never failed to have them on full blast at all times. Even in her thick blazer, Kasy could still feel the intensity of the air conditioning.

"One day you'll end up with pneumonia," she said as she folded her arms across her chest and made her way past the rows of computer systems and stools until she was at the far end of the room where Kendrick's desk was positioned in front of a small whiteboard that was barely ever used.

"And one day, you'll end up getting punished for not knocking." Kendrick retorted without looking up from the monitor in front of him. He was clad in a white shirt and black trousers with his signature sleeveless cardigan worn over his shirt.

"And who's going to punish me?" Kasy asked as she took the seat across from Kendrick's desk.

"You know you're stubborn, one of these days you'll clean this lab for me," Kendrick smirked, and Kasy snickered knowing that he'd never ask her to do that even if all the juniors in the school had suddenly disappeared.

Kendrick Kanayo was a replica of his sister. They had the same black skin, bushy eyebrows and small lips. Kendrick had longer eyelashes which Kasy never failed to tease him about. In so many ways, Kasy could say her brother was much more attractive than she would ever be especially with his shiny black hair that was always kept in a low cut.

Deciding to let Kendrick work, Kasy had picked up her brother's phone and began browsing his photo gallery, admiring all the silly selfies they'd taken together.

"So, how was school today?" Kendrick asked to break the silence.

Kasy let out a sigh and dropped the phone on the table littered with paper before responding, "Ask me that when the day is over. Something might still happen to completely ruin it."

"Hmm..." Kendrick hummed and said nothing else afterward as he continued typing away on the keyboard.

Kasy sighed once more, seeking the strength and courage she needed to say what she was about to say. "You know, Daddy got promoted at work."

Just like Kasy had expected, her brother didn't say anything and his expression remained neutral as he continued to work.

"Good for him," Kendrick mumbled under his breath after a minute of silence. He couldn't quite understand why Kasy kept pressing on an issue he never wanted to discuss.

"He asks about you most times," Kasy said slowly, silently hoping Kendrick wouldn't snap at her for bringing up the topic. However, Kendrick kept doing his work like Kasy hadn't said anything.

When her brother had finally looked up at her, she thought he was finally going to say something concerning what she'd told him until he said, "I just sent something to the printer, help me get it. And also photocopy this." He handed her a document before turning back to his computer.

Kasy felt he'd done that to simply get to shut up but she lazily stood up and made her way to the printer adjacent to Kendrick's desk and retrieved the paper before turning to the photocopier next to it.

"How many?" Kasy inquired, referring to the number of copies she was to make.

"Just two," Kendrick replied and Kasy immediately pushed the button and watched the green light inside the machine move from one end to the other twice before the replicas came running out.

Just as Kasy gathered the papers in her hands, she heard the door swing open, and in came Tari and Amira with the former grinning like she'd won a lottery.

"Uncle Ken!" Tari said in a singsong voice as she sashayed her way over to Kendrick's desk with a nylon bag in her hands and Amira trailing behind her.

"Hey, Tari. What's up?" Kendrick returned the greeting as he looked up briefly from his computer to give the girls a warm smile.

Tari Disemi was relatively tall and slim. She had the boobs and butt that Kasy would kill for. Tari was one of the girls that made Kasy look at herself and shake her head in pity. Although Tari wasn't light-skinned, she had nice bronze skin.

For long, the overactive girl had been tagged the prettiest girl in their set. Some had gone further to say Annika Malan had nothing on Tari Disemi when it came to beauty and most people assumed that was the reason the two girls never got along.

"We brought doughnut and soya milk for you," Tari announced before setting the nylon bag on Kendrick's desk.

Kendrick stopped what he was doing completely to stare at the nylon bag before looking up at Tari and returning her smile. "Thanks a lot, I'm famished."

"No problem," Tari replied with her grin increasing by the minute. She took the seat opposite his desk and Kasy couldn't help but roll her eyes before walking over to the desk to give her brother the papers.

"Ehen, Uncle Ken, is it true you and that new teacher, Ms. Isong, were classmates?" Tari inquired and Kasy had to halt and watch as her brother's eyes widened slightly before placing the documents in front of his desk.

Kasy locked eyes with Amira who was awkwardly standing behind Tari while the latter was too engrossed in giving Kendrick the third degree that she hadn't even acknowledged the fact that Kasy was in the room.

"Yeah, she was my... classmate."

Kasy could sense the discomfort in Kendrick's tone and she didn't need anymore to tell her that he and Ms. Isong must've dated or something within that category. Kendrick had once told her himself that he'd fallen in love in secondary school but then, she only laughed it off. Now, she was almost sure Ms. Isong was more than a 'classmate'.

Kendrick dipped his hand into the nylon bag and retrieved a doughnut which he immediately took a huge bite from. He'd done that to avoid further questions from Tari.

Just when Tari was about to speak, the distant sound of the bell was heard and she threw her head backward and let out a groan. Amira looked down at her friend and raised her brows.

"I have a CRS test now and I'm not ready... At all." Tari complained to no one in particular before sighing and getting up slowly. "Uncle Ken, you'll gist me later."

"No problem," Kendrick replied as they watched Tari leave and Amira follow suit.

"I wonder what Amira is doing with someone like Tari," Kasy said before taking the seat Tari had gotten up from.

"What do you mean by 'someone like Tari'?" Kendrick asked as he folded his arms and faced his sister.

"It's just odd," Kasy admitted, "Tari is an art student, Amira is a science student and a very smart one for that matter. I mean, Amira is actually the only person that challenges Annika in that class while Tari can hardly write a CRS test without cheating. And her dad is a pastor."

Kendrick chuckled and shook his head. "Is that all? Or are you also going to say that Amira is Muslim and Tari is Christian too?"

"No, that doesn't matter. What I'm saying is that Amira and Tari are exact opposites. Didn't you notice that Amira didn't say a word while Tari kept blabbing and blabbing?"

Kendrick sighed before picking up the doughnut he'd initially dropped into the nylon bag. "Well, opposites attract," he said before taking another bite from his half-eaten doughnut.

"I guess..." Kasy trailed.

"Wait, I thought Tari said you guys have a CRS test, what are you still doing here?" Kendrick asked the younger girl who seemed nonchalant and less concerned with whatever might've been happening in class.

Kasy hissed and said, "That woman can fuck herself."

Kendrick laughed and said, "I'm going to tell her."

"Should I give you transport money?" Kasy asked her brother with a smug smile.

"Look at you, you're only saying that because you know she's not in school," said Kendrick.

Kasy smiled and leaned into her seat before replying, "Yup."