ABBY
Hmm, very funny.
As soon as we got home, Aunty half-dragged, half-carried me through the back door, straight into the bedroom. Her daughter was inside playing and immediately looked up.
“Mummy, what’s wrong with Abby?”
Aunty forced a smile. “She’s not feeling well, darling. Go and play with your brothers.”
Once the door closed, she started shaking me. “Abby! Abby, wake up!”
I was fully conscious at this point but kept my eyes shut, pretending I wasn’t. But when the shaking got too rough, I opened my eyes and croaked, “Yes, Aunty?”
Then she lost it.
“Silly girl! Why can’t you mind your business? What did you see?”
I frowned, looking around the room. “See?”
She exhaled sharply.
I blinked. “Aunty, I saw you and that uncle—”
Before I could finish, she shrieked, “Shut your dirty mouth! Stupid girl! I regret bringing you to Lagos!”
For a moment, I wanted to remind her that she never brought me here—I came on my own. But I kept quiet.
She took a deep breath and spoke in a lower, more controlled voice. “Look, Abby, I will only say this once. Repeat after me: I did not see anything.”
I hesitated. “But I did, Aunty.”
She raised her hand to slap me but paused, thinking better of it. Instead, she pressed on, voice dangerously calm. “Repeat after me. I did not see anything. The bump on your head has made you confused.”
I looked at her, confused. “Aunty, I don’t understand. The other day, you called me a liar when I made up a story about the woman who made you late. You were so angry. But now, you’re asking me to lie? I don’t want you to hate me. Please don’t make me lie. I’m trying to stop being a liar.”
Aunty jumped off the bed, pacing the room in frustration. She ran a hand over her face, muttering to herself.
Then she stopped, took a few deep breaths, and turned to me.
“Okay. What do you want?”
I swallowed. “What?”
“What do you want me to do for you? Name it. Anything. But if I grant it, you must swear never to tell Uncle or anyone else what you saw today. Do you understand?”
Hmmm…
CHRIS
I chose the latter. I agreed to do Paul’s exams for him.
Before I knew it, the next semester’s exams had arrived.
By then, I had a new roommate, a final-year student. We barely spoke—just brief greetings. He was rarely in the room, only coming back to sleep before disappearing again. I didn’t mind. I was too busy.
Between my part-time job at the postgraduate school and studying, I had no time for friends.
I had worked out a way to handle both exam papers.
On the exam day, we were given two questions and told to choose one. I picked the easier one for Paul and the harder one for myself. We had two hours. That meant I had just one hour to finish Paul’s paper and another for mine—an almost impossible task.
Paul showed up, sat beside me, and pretended to scribble while I wrote his answers. To avoid suspicion, I didn’t just pick different questions—I also changed my handwriting. I wrote Paul’s in small letters and mine in capitals.
As soon as I finished his, I gave him a subtle thumbs-up. He got up immediately and, “accidentally,” knocked my desk. Both papers fell.
Before I could react, he swiftly picked up the one with writing and submitted it.
I swallowed my panic and began my own paper.
I wrote as fast as I could, but by the time the invigilator called “Pens up,” I had only completed 80% of my essay.
I submitted it, hoping it would be enough to pass
Four weeks later, the results came out.
Paul scored 85%.
I barely scraped a 55%.
That’s when I was summoned to the lecturer’s office.
He didn’t mince words.
“Mr Chris, I will only say this once. If you ever try that nonsense in my class again, I will personally ensure you are rusticated.”
I froze.
“You and I both know what you did. If not for my kindness and your scholarship situation, I would have failed you both. But we also know that the only person it would truly affect is you. Next time, if this happens again, come to me first. We will figure something out. Do you understand?”
I was shaking like a leaf. I collapsed to my knees. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.”
He pointed at the door. “Get out.”
As I turned the corner outside his office, I found Paul and three other guys waiting for me.
They wasted no time, shoving me against the wall.
“Have you been a rat?” one of them demanded.
I shook my head. “No. The lecturer just scolded me for my drop in grades. Said if I don’t improve, I might have to do an extra year.”
Paul smirked. “Don’t worry. If he threatens you again, let me know. We’ll deal with his f-up.
I had no idea what that meant.
But I could only imagine.
Hmmm…
