"Have you heard?"

I lift my head up from my Quran, the letters tapering off on my lips as I look at Yusrah. Huddled around her are Aisha, Juwayriyyah, and Fateemah, their necks stretched forward, waiting for her to speak. Yusrah always had a way to draw one in with her stories, and if she leveraged well on that, I bet she would be a great storyteller someday.

I think about Miss Layla's story I have abandoned among my books at home, but Yusrah's next words catch me before my thoughts wander too far.

"They are going to allow Nasir to retake the exams," she says.

I sit up straighter at that, my eyes fully focused on Yusrah.

"I even thought you had better gist for us," Aisha says.

"I personally don't believe he cheated," Yusrah says. "I know he is the most brilliant in this class. I mean, all that solving of equations in class proves that maybe..."

I can feel the invisible hands hovering around my heart, and I think about anything quickly. Blue sea shells. Burnt akara. Iffat's new shirt. Anything and everything to keep it away.

"Maybe what?" Fateemah urges on.

"Maybe he forgot the revision on him," Yusrah finishes. "Let's not just conclude that he cheated. I even heard he might represent us in that Mathematics Competition coming up at Doric Secondary School."

My eyes search for Nasir in the class. He is nowhere. Breaktime would come soon.

"Omo, we need him to win oo." Aisha says. 

"Yes, it is high time we had that kind of person among us. I tried having him teach me some Maths assignments yesterday, but he looked like he was uncomfortable." Yusrah says. Her eyes meet mine all of a sudden, and before I could form a smile, she peels them away from me.

When Yusrah is angry, like really angry, she gets angry for a long time. And even though I spent a lot of time apologizing about what happened during the exams, she still hasn't spoken to me, or acknowledged me, and in some way, it has influenced how the others speak to me now, which is barely or not at all.

"Maybe you were flirting with him," Aisha adds with a sly giggle, using the front of her hijab to muffle her laugh.

"Me ke? Abeg, there is a time and a place for that," Yusrah says. "That Omar was now saying I should leave him alone and go and meet...," her eyes meet mine again, hard. "...someone else to teach me."

Aisha glances in the direction of Yusrah's glare. "Toorh, if they don't hide the answers from you."

The bell goes off, and the class, already in disarray before, is tuned up with more noise and commotion. Students rush with their empty plastic containers to the canteen, some stuff money down their pockets and the smell of food from opened food flasks makes my belly almost rumble. I force myself to go back to practising my Quran, force myself not to think of the financial flunk we are at home again.

There is an aggressive knock on my desktop, and my head shoots up, only to see Yusrah standing in front of me, arms folded and frowning.

"I saw your letter again," she tells me.

I nod, as it seems the only thing I can do at that moment.

"And I read it," she says. "And I feel like...I should forgive you."

A smile almost finds its way to my lips, but I hold it in. "Okay."

"It's just that, you are stingy with your knowledge,  Nadeen." She reveals. 

"But I help...I help you with your assignments. I even let you copy from me if you haven't done yours." 

"But I thought we were best friends, and best friends do everything together. Help each other out. Tell each other everything." My mind goes to the secret I kept from her about Nasir, and going to his house with Zainab. "So when you did what you did, of course, I was angry."

I nod in understanding. "I am sorry."

"Fine," she says and leans against my desk. "All is forgiven. I have even forgiven you since sef, I only was just doing shakara." She finally smiles. "Let's go and get something to eat."

I shake my head. "I...can't."

"Is it your Daddy again?" She asks, to which I give a reluctant nod. "Okay, what happened again?"

"Nothing. It's just Mummy's been using all her money from the shop to supplement feeding and things are getting more and more expensive."

"Ah, he has to increase the money oo. Will you now be starving in school? No wonder you are thin now."

I glance at my arms. "I am not thin."

"You are oo. I am not even joking. I'll go and buy you eggroll sef." Yusrah hops off the desk. "And one Fanta. Don't worry, I will use my own money."

I smile. "Thank you."

She gives my right cheek a squeeze and hops on outside, and as I am about to bend over to continue practising my Quran, I catch Nasir and Omar from my periphery. Omar is talking to Nasir and he is shaking his head vigorously. He stops abruptly and waves at Nasir, and Nasir disappears up the stairs to the rooftop.

I watch as Omar enters the classroom, and my eyes return to the stairs. Why is Nasir the only one given access to the roof? 

Nasir and I don't talk in class, so that means we don't talk at all, and he has long stopped messaging me through Iffat. I try not to think up some excuse to go back to his house and eat that stir fry spaghetti again, and be hugged. I just realized I do like being hugged, engulfed in a way that makes the worries of the world go away, and everything is perfect.

But I want to be hugged by his mother again.

I find myself sliding out of my seat, and I know Yusrah won't be back until later, for she will be gisting downstairs at the canteen. I look around as I step out of the class, watching my surroundings, frustrated that the students won't stop running and coming in and out of classrooms.

One second, that's all I need.

And the one-second window came for me, and I slipped up the stairs, covered in the shadows. I run up the first flight of stairs, and when I reach the second, relaxation washes down me. I take a moment to second guess going all the way up, but not for very long. Soon, I am pushing open the huge iron door of the roof.

The noise makes Nasir look back at me, and even though he doesn't smile, I see the way his eyes light up. He waves, and I find it only normal to wave back.

I walk up to him, and he is still looking at me. I try to think of what I want to say, and it gets awkward.

"How are you now?" I ask.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Uhm...I heard you will be retaking the exams."

"Yes."

"Oh," I suddenly feel constipated. "Won't that reduce your score?"

"No. My mother and the Principal spoke, and he agreed that it was all a misunderstanding."

"But they did find the...expo with you."

His face goes bleak. "I didn't do it, Nadeen."

"Okay."

"Do you believe I did it?"

"I don't think it matters what I believe."

"It does." 

"Why?" I don't mean for it to come out sharp.

He hangs his head down. "Because you are my friend."

My mouth doesn't open again. How and when we became friends, I don't know. But I never saw us as such.

"Why are you allowed to use up here?" I ask, hoping he would steer in the direction of the change in topic.

His eyes light up again. "It makes me calm and happy. And I made a little friend today. Let me bring him to you."

He runs forward, close to the rim of the building, and lifts up a leaf. I look up to the sky, and the clouds from a distance are taking on a dark shade of grey, cooling off the heat from the sun. I hope it doesn't rain. Mummy has already spread out the yam peels to blends for Amala and I don't think Iffat will remember to pack them, and if she doesn't, it would be another war.

My clothes too, I sigh. I should have just waited till I got back to wash them instead...

"Here!" Nasir says, holding out his palms to me.

It takes less than a second for me to register that he is holding out the longest earthworm I have ever seen up to my face. The scream that tears from my lips is so loud that the earthworm even curls away. Nasir is quick to retreat, and at once, my skin breaks out and I am itching everywhere so bad.

"Why did you do that?!" I yell at him.

"He is...it is...beautiful," he says, his voice quiet. "It is...harmless. I thought you would like him."

"No one says an earthworm is harmless, and no one picks an earthworm with their fingers!" I snap.

"I am sorry, I thought you would like it."

I give a long hiss, and I turn to leave the rooftop. I don't care what he says about us being friends, I cannot be friends with someone who picks earthworms and calls them friends. Imagine saying that slimy creature is a friend.

A shudder courses through me as I reach the second landing. Coming down without being seen is harder than coming up, and I peek from the shadows as I watch the students race down the corridors. I really hope no one heard my scream. 

When the faint jingling of the bell begins, I hurry down as fast as I can, and when I turn left, my eyes meet that of Omar who is standing close to the stairs.

My heart jumps forward. I have been caught. 

Stay calm, Nadeen.

I fix him an innocent smile, and turn back to the stairs, pretending to search all the ground around me, pretending to look for something. He doesn't look away, and I pretend to throw my hands up in frustration as if I cannot find my lost item. I fist my hands in fake anger, look around the ground again, and put in stomps to my steps as I head back to the class.

Yusrah is at my seat when I return, and she gives me a curious tilt of her head.

"Where were you?" She asks.

Best friends tell each other everything.

"I was looking for something," I tell her. It just seems wherever Nasir is concerned, I can't seem to bring him up in front of her.

"Okay, sha sha, I have bought your food. Eat quickly before Miss Laylah comes for class." 

"Thank you," I tell her as she stands up. She gives me that little pinch on my cheeks and moves off to her own seat.

As Miss Laylah drifts into the class with her bucketful of stories and laughter, I find my eyes going over to Nasir. He isn't laughing, and I catch a pair of eyes on me; Omar's. They don't look kind.

-

-

-

"Nadeen! Nadeen!"

I pause in my assignment, hesitating to answer.

"Nadeen!"

"Yes!" I grumble out.

Mummy steps into the shop, her brows furrowed. "Didn't you hear me calling you?"

"I was busy," I point to my notebooks on the floor around me.

"You have to stop for a while. I have cleaned the beans for moinmoin and I need you to go and blend it. I can't trust the NEPA to keep the light before we get home. Go and blend it at the junction," Mummy orders me.

"But I can't stop now." I look down at my half-finished essay. "I will...lose my flow."

"I don't understand. Will your brain stop working if you run your mother an errand?"

"No, I am in my flow. The ideas...I need to get them all down."

"Okay, carry your books and do it there..."

"I can't...the noise..."

"Nadeen," Mummy's voice is strict. "Go and blend these beans. If I go myself, it is Garri you will have for dinner."

Mummy stalks out of the store. I contemplate Garri for dinner, and since I had enough rice for lunch, I can buy kulikuli on my way back home. So I return to my assignment, the words floating around me as a peg them down into words.

"Nadeen!" My name is so loud that the flow of the words pops like a bubble around me and falls away. I look up, and Mummy is standing arms akimbo in front of me.

"What did I just tell you?" She asks.

"But I said..."

"I have been noticing your behaviour of late, and you want to be disobedient, abi? You and Iffat want to form an alliance and attack me, is that it?" She asks me. "I tell you to do something and you refused, not even caring for the repercussions. If it was your father, will you have done that? Will you tell him the rubbish you are telling me?" 

Something bubbles in me, and it is hot, disturbing, but I get up and grab the bowl of beans in the nylon bag, and head to the junction. I don't take my notes, it is useless trying to write in all of that noise.

When I get there, there are about three women before me waiting to blend. Fed up, I sit on the three-legged stool available, careful to balance my weight so I wouldn't fall. Two of the women have engaged in conversation in Yoruba; they seem like friends. One talks about a lousy neighbour who won't stop poking her nose in she and her husband's business, and another is talking about how her single neighbour always wears short skirts to sweep the compound and distract her husband.

"In this life, it is our duty as women to protect our homes from all these ashewos," one of them says, some of her front teeth missing.

I wonder how she got her teeth missing. Was it natural causes or did her husband punch them out of her mouth? The home she is protecting, I want to ask her, who does she protect it from? Her husband, or the woman?

So many questions I cannot ask my mother, so many questions I cannot ask random strangers.

After about thirty minutes, it reaches my turn to blend the beans. The young lady starts the engine, and the smell of diesel and blended beans fills my nostrils. I watch as the beans slides down into the plastic bowl, and as she pours it back into the grinder, rinsing it off with water I really hope is clean.

I pay her once she is done, and return back to the shop. When my mother sees me, she gives a loud sigh.

"What took you so long?" She asks, opening the container to check the beans. "She blended it well today, thank God."

Already tired from school, and already lost my writing flow, I spread out the mat in the middle of the shop, thankful there hasn't been any case of scampering rats for a long while. It doesn't take me long to doze off to sleep, the rickety fan lulling me off like a lullaby.

The voices that wake me up are loud, at least one of them is. It sounds familiar, and it takes my sleep-induced brain a while to figure out who it was. Aunt Tolu. Mummy didn't make mention of her coming to visit today since the last time she did.

Mummy had warned her severely not to come over to the house again. I didn't expect Aunt Tolu to oblige but she did. She is here in the shop because she is smart enough to know what the repercussions of her actions would cause in the house. 

"Najwa, I am worried about you," I hear Aunt Tolu say. I don't move, and I make no move to show that I am awake. 

"I didn't ask you to worry about me," Mummy says.

"You didn't, but you are my sister, so I will worry. If I look at the definition of stress, I don't even need to look at the dictionary, I just have to look at you," Aunt Tolu says. "Kilode? Because of one man? Najwa, don't let this man drive you to an early grave."

"I thought I told you that if it is my husband you came to talk about you should be going."

"I will never stop talking about that man until you leave him. E duro na, the man beat your daughter like that and you still want to stay with him? Are these not the same children you are staying for? He will kill them!" 

"Tolu, please be going." Mummy sounds angry. "The one you have done before is enough. Please."

"Oh? The one I called the women's rights group on him? I was disappointed by how lightly they handled the situation. The person they are supposed to lock for years in jail..."

"Tolu!"

Aunt Tolu doesn't say anything, and the evening breeze carries over to me silence from both of them.

"You know," Aunt Tolu suddenly begins. "We have always been as close as twins. But you were softer. Kinder. Always saw the good side of people. Even animals loved you. You will walk the area and feed the strays you see. Remember that stray cat you once brought home? You used to take in strays, animals of any kind, and that is why when your husband walked in, you took him in as well."

"Tolu, one more word and walahi..."

"You are my sister, and you aren't happy. You are suffering because of a man, and it is weighing down on you," Aunt Tolu continues as if Mummy hasn't said anything. "Most of the reason why I worked so hard to get that promotion at work was because of you. You inspired me, and not in a good kind of way. I wanted to make enough money to take you and your children away from him. And now, Najwa, I do have some money that can cater for you for some time. You don't have to stay with him anymore."

My heart beats accelerate, not from the invisible hands, but I cannot tell why. The unpredictability of this chapter Aunt Tolu is offering us sounds...scary.

No, not scary, frightening.

"Najwa, men used to line up from our mother's house to toast you, and for one man to be doing you anyhow...Haba! Someone you are supposed to throw away like used pad. Marriage is not a do or die affair," Aunt Tolu presses on, then trails off in a mumble. "Najwa, please, say something, you can start all over, you do not need him." 

There is a sigh, and Mummy speaks. "I am not staying because I don't have money to leave."

"Then why are you staying? Love? Support? Because he isn't giving you that."

"You won't understand, you are not married so you won't understand."

"You cannot insult me with that. Having no man is better than having your type of man, Najwa," Aunt Tolu replies. "He has mentally trapped you, Najwa. That is why even as I am opening the door to whatever cell he has held you in, you don't want to come out. And it isn't your fault, this is what abuse does to you. But I can get you out. I can get you help. Please, Najwa. Say yes and tomorrow I will move you out to wherever you want."

Silence reigns again, and the fan stops whirring over me, the shop goes dark from power outage. Far off, a cock crows.

"I don't know what you want me to say." Mummy finally says. "This man is my husband, and he wasn't like this in the beginning..."

"...they are all not always like that in the beginning..."

"...and I won't give up just because of his bad sides..."

"...bad sides? You call his abuse bad sides? This is what I am talking about!  You only pick the good sides of people and ignore the bad..."

"...and you should too." Mummy's voice takes on that sharp edge. "And in this life, there is nothing that prayer cannot solve. Nothing. I will pray for him to become the man I once knew him to be before, and I have told the children to do the same."

"Ah!" Aunt Tolu yells so loud and sudden that I shake. I do not turn to see the reason, but curiosity is craning my neck so bad that I can feel my muscles tick with discomfort.

"Won ti get sista mi oo!" They have gotten my sister, Aunt  Tolu yells. and I hear the slapping of her palms on what seems to be her thighs, as she always does when agitated. "Najwa, nkan to n se yin ko kin soju lasan." Najwa, what is happening to you isn't normal.

There is a pause, and then I hear the broken English of the Mallam from the kiosk next to Mummy's shop. He's asking if everything is okay, and I imagine passersby wandering the same thing, wondering why the alarm was called when there is no fire on the mountain.

"Everything dey okay," Mummy tells Mallam. No one says anything after Mallam leaves. A car horns loudly. A light wind blows. The cock goes off again.

"If you want to publicize my home affairs on this street, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Mummy says in a resigned tone.

"What affairs? Tell me there is no shop on this street that doesn't know what your husband does to you. Tell me!" Aunt Tolu yells.

"Be going, Tolu," Mummy says.

"Najwa, you have always been the religious one, but you are misinterpreting religion wrongly." There is the slapping sound of palms on thighs again. "This is oppression, and you of all people know that the Quran and the Prophet, peace be upon him, seriously warns us against being oppressed. You are not being a submissive wife," Aunt Tolu's voice begins to rise. "There is a thin line between what people call being a submissive wife and being an oppressed wife. Najwa, there is a thin line between being submissive and being oppressed and your husband has gone far past that line into the oppression side. Open your eyes! Please! For your children! God gave us free will too! He can't be controlling us like puppets in all our choices, you have to take the right step."

"I have to go home and cook," Mummy says.

"Your daughter is really suffering, both of them actually." Aunt Tolu says. "Look at her, Najwa, look at your daughter." I stiffen, feeling their eyes on me. "Just look at her. Tell me you don't want to give her a better life. Tell me it doesn't ache you as a mother when he hurts them, tell me it doesn't ache you when they watch him hurt you...," Aunt Tolu's voice breaks, and sobs fill the air. This is the first time I would ever hear her cry. Something about it is heart-wrenching, maybe it's the fact that the happy and carefree Aunt Tolu can do something as sad as cry.

"I can't bear it. I can't bear him hurting you. You are a good person, and you don't deserve this, neither do your girls. Najwa, please, please look at me," her sobs continue, silent this time. "Please, it doesn't stop unless you stop it. It can affect your daughters' future if you do not break the cycle. If you don't stop, they will seek out men, even unconsciously, just like their father. Save them, Najwa, do it for them."

There is silence from both of them.

"I hope you know they would have mental health issues," Aunt Tolu says.

The diagnosis from the Doctor photographed in my memory, the illegible writing of Anxiety on my file comes to my head from a dark forgotten place I have buried it. The invisible hands caress my heart, warming to an invitation to squeeze.

"Auzubillah," Mummy says.

"Eleyi o kin soro Auzubillah. Otoo oro ni mo n so." This isn't an issue of Auzubillah, this is the truth I'm saying, Aunt Tolu fires back.

"It's late," Mummy says. "And you should go and visit your brother."

"Is it because we didn't really have a father?" Aunt Tolu presses on. "Is it because he died early in our lives? Or because how Mummy's family would tell her she isn't complete without a husband when he died? Is it because of how Mummy would treat Daud better because he was a "man?" Tell me what caused it."

"Caused what again, Tolu? What are you saying?"

More silence, more noise from outside filters in.

"To not recognize who you are anymore." Aunt Tolu says. "Do you recognize yourself? When you look into the mirror? Because I don't recognize you anymore."

The scraping of a chair screeches in my ear, and a bellied sigh leaves Aunt Tolu's lips.

"Go to your husband oo. But I won't give up. And also, anytime you want out. One phone call. One phone call Najwa, and I will leave everything to come for you."

"Goodbye."

"Not goodbye, I'll be back again. You know me. My regards to the children. Tell Nadeen I came by and you didn't allow me to wake her." Aunt Tolu says.

The conversation dies, and minutes later, I am 'woken' up. I grumble and stretch as much as I can, and rub my fists on my eyes to redden them enough to look like I am sleeping.

Mummy and I close up for the day. We carry her show glass into the shop, and I check for any holes that rats might find their way in, and stuff the bottom of the shop with some rags.

When we get home, Magrib Adhan goes off in the distance. Daddy is in the living room, drinking malt, legs propped on the centre table, and remote held in one hand.

"E kaabo oo," he greets us in a light voice. He mutes the television and turns to us to smile. "Two beautiful women have entered oo. They are so bright and shining I'm afraid NEPA will take off the light oo."

Mummy gives a humoured scoff, and I can't help the smile.

"I have moinmoin blended down already, I'll go and cook it," Mummy says.

"Okay, thank you," Daddy says. "But please make sure you do it while sitting on a stool. I don't want you to be too stressed out. Sorry, how was shop today?"

"It was fine, Alhamdililah."

"Very soon, it's a supermarket you'll be handling," Daddy says with so much vigour and assuredness that I have no doubt about it. He always says so and promises to buy an available building so Mummy can start on time. "You'll have one at Ikeja, and hire people to work. We'll install the state-of-the-art security cameras so there won't be any stealing, or maybe security cameras that can shoot if someone steals, abi what do you think Nadeen?"

I muse over it for a short while. "But what if it's a child that steals?"

"I was about to ask the same thing," Mummy says.

"Ah, I didn't think of that oo," Daddy says. "We'll cross that boat when we get there. But Iya Iffat, don't worry, your own supermarket will be doing competition with Prince Ebeano's own. I'll stock it with everything anyone can ever need, and from that profit, we'll create a chain of more supermarkets. By then, you'll be studying in maybe Lagos Business School to be a better business manager. Iya Iffat, don't worry. I know it will happen."

"Ameen oo," Mummy says. "Let me start cooking. Is Iffat reading?"

"Yes, I didn't want to disturb her for food. She needs all the concentration she can get now," Daddy says. "And I brought some eja kika my colleague gave me, you can garnish the moinmoin with it."

"Thank you, I was even going to the market mainly for that tomorrow."

"Iya Iffat, God has answered your prayers then." Daddy laughs.

This is what Aunt Tolu doesn't see. If she did, she won't be so quick to label Daddy the way she does, she won't be so quick to offer Mummy an out from her marriage, she won't be so quick to judge him so harshly.

I know prayers will change him, so I say one under my breath.

Later that night, after a good and happy meal and a movie filled with laughs, we retire to bed. I wake up a little past midnight to take water from the kitchen, parched from the stale night air.

In the dining, where a dull flashlight is on, I see the silhouette of someone. I peek closer, and Mummy is there, staring into the mirror, wordless.