CHAPTER ELEVEN “WHEN WRONG IS LOUD!”

© Opeyemi Akintunde
As Inspired by the Creative Word

I pushed her back.

Not gently.

Not politely.

I pushed her back and ran to the kitchen sink.

I bent over the sink and tried to force the pill out.

No way.

Sikemi had held me long enough for it to go down.

Guilt poured over me like heavy rain.

Just like that.

In less than twenty-four hours, and under three hours inside the Alabi house, I had become a drug courier, I had kissed for the first time, and I had swallowed a substance I did not know.

What was happening to me?

I thrust my finger down my throat.

Nothing came out.

I tried again.

Still nothing.

Only tears gathered in my eyes, but they refused to fall.

Sikemi walked towards me again, using that harmless yet paralyzing voice.

“This is just a practical session,” she said. “You don’t have to take it after this. Just experiment with it. Tell me how it makes you feel.”

She said it casually.

Too casually.

Like she had not just forced something into my body.

Like my fear was an overreaction.

Like my conscience was the problem.

She picked up a glass cup, filled it with water from the tap, and offered it to me like a master manipulator.

“Drink,” she said softly.

I should have refused.

But my body was still shaking, my mind was still scattered, and somehow, my mouth opened.

She made me drink the water.

At that point, one thought became clear.

Whatever was going to happen to me, I did not want it to happen inside the Alabi house.

I needed to leave.

I needed to get out of that house and go to school.

“Can I go to school?” I asked, trying to move myself away from her. “I am already late. I will let my mum know I could not do much.”

Sikemi looked at me for a few seconds.

Then she tilted her head slightly.

“Can you help me clean my room before you leave?”

The way she asked it made something in me wake up.

Now I was beginning to see her.

Not the beautiful girl.

Not the rich girl.

Not the girl who liked me.

A tempter.

“No,” I rushed to answer.

I did not wait for her to speak again.

I sped off to the living room, picked up my school bag, and ran out of the house.

Uncle Nureni, the security guard, tried to have a chit-chat with me at the gate.

“Matthew, you are leaving already?”

But I was not in the mood.

“School, sir,” I said quickly.

I did not even wait for his reply.

I started walking towards the estate main gate.

At first, nothing felt different.

Then, after a while, I knew something in me had been stirred.

I could hear my footsteps louder than normal.

Every step sounded like someone was beating a drum on the ground.

I could see clearer all of a sudden. Too clear. The flowers by the fence looked too bright. The security lights looked too sharp. The road looked like it had edges I had never noticed before.

Then I could smell my own sweat.

Not just smell it.

I was aware of it.

Painfully aware.

It felt like my awareness level had been turned to five hundred percent, and I hated the feeling.

It was scary.

I felt like I was about to explode.

So I started running.

I wanted to get to school on time.

I wanted to get there before I ran mad.

I ran past the estate gate.

I ran like something was chasing me.

Maybe something was.

Maybe guilt.

Maybe fear.

Maybe the substance.

Maybe all of them.

Then, suddenly, like someone switched something on inside me, I started laughing.

Not small laughter.

Real laughter.

I felt excited.

Very excited.

Too excited.

I was suddenly happy without a reason.

I had the urge to run all the way to school. It felt like my legs had discovered a ministry and wanted to fulfil it immediately.

I tried to stop myself from this fake happiness, but I could not.

I kept running.

After about five minutes of intense running, wisdom finally showed up late, like Nigerian ambulance.

I stopped.

My chest was rising and falling fast.

Then I took a bus.

By the time I got to school, I had arranged my face into something that looked normal.

But I was not normal.

That day passed like a breeze.

I laughed a lot.

I joked a lot.

I talked too much.

I even joined the boys who mocked teachers whenever they made grammatical mistakes.

Normally, that kind of thing annoyed me.

That day, I laughed like the Holy Spirit had travelled.

I was weirdly happy.

Too light.

Too free.

Too bold.

Too careless.

And yes, I noticed the looks I got from Mark and Rosie.

Mark looked worried.

Rosie looked like she had seen something she wished she had not seen.

So I was not surprised when they both stood in front of me after school.

I smiled before they even spoke.

“What?” I said, trying to sound funny. “Mr and Mrs Judge. What is my sentence?”

Mark did not smile.

“Why are you acting strangely?” he asked.

Rosie was too blunt to beat around the bush.

“What did you drink?” she asked.

I froze for a second.

But I quickly recovered.

“Drink?”

“Yes,” she said, her eyes fixed on me. “You are high.”

“I am not.”

“You are,” Rosie said.

“I said I am not.”

Her face hardened, but her eyes betrayed her. There was pain there.

“I am surrounded by brothers,” she said quietly. “Boys who get high daily. I know what it looks like.”

My mouth opened, but no words came out.

She continued.

“I thought I had found a friend who was different. I did not realize it was only a matter of time.”

That one pierced me.

I saw a tear trying to form in her eyes, but Rosie did not let it serve its time.

She turned and walked away.

Mark looked at me like I had betrayed the world.

Then he ran after Rosie.

I wanted to follow them.

I wanted to explain.

I wanted to say, “It was not like that.”

But suddenly, I felt weak.

The strange excitement that had carried me through the day started draining away.

I picked up my bag and walked home slowly.

Rosie’s words hurt.

They hurt deeply.

But after a while, another thought came.

Who was she to judge me?

She did not know what happened.

She did not know I did not plan it.

She did not know I fought it.

She did not know I was forced.

But even as I tried to defend myself in my mind, another voice asked me a question.

But why were you there in the first place?

I did not answer.

When I got home, Mum was on the bed.

I went to her room to greet her.

“Good afternoon, Mum.”

“Matthew,” she replied softly. “How was school?”

“Fine,” I said.

The lie was becoming too easy.

As I was about to leave her room, she spoke again.

“Martins called.”

I stopped.

My heart jumped.

“Martins?” I asked, turning slowly.

“Yes,” Mum said. “He said you were not able to get the chores completely done because you helped Sikemi get some medicine.”

My feet refused to move.

“I am so sorry, Matthew,” Mum continued. “Sorry, you had to run errands for your mates. That is why I want you to focus on your education and make a good life for yourself.”

Her words stabbed me.

Not because she was scolding me.

Because she was not.

She trusted me.

She pitied me.

She had no idea that the errand was not ordinary.

Then she asked the question I was not sure I could answer truthfully.

“What medicine did you get for Sikemi?”

I stood there.

Mum looked at me.

And suddenly, the room became too small for the truth.

To be continued…

DEEP THOUGHTS NOVELS
Written by Opeyemi Akintunde
As Inspired by the Creative One

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