CHAPTER FOUR WHEN WRONG IS LOUD!

© Opeyemi Akintunde
As Inspired by the Creative Word

“I like you too,” I lied.

The words came out after I noticed her whole demeanor had changed. Her shoulders dropped, her eyes dimmed, and disbelief filled her voice.

“Oh wow,” she said slowly. “You never liked me. So I have been a fool all along. Obviously, who would like a girl like me? I am not beautiful.”

That was not true.

She was beautiful, but not my kind of beautiful. Not the kind of beauty I had trained my heart to admire. Hers was loud, expensive, polished, and dangerous. The kind of beauty that could make a boy forget his mother’s prayers.

Then she started crying.

“I like you too, but…” I managed to say, lying again.

She snatched the words from my mouth like she had been waiting for me to say just enough for her to hold on to.

“But you are afraid of my father?” she said quickly. “I knew it. Matthew, my father would prefer you over one hundred of my brother’s friends. You are pure, Matthew. Authentic. Sweet.”

I stared at her.

Where were all these accolades coming from? Me? Pure? Authentic? Sweet?

I literally had to pinch myself to be sure I was not dreaming. Nobody spoke to boys like me that way. At least, not girls like Sikemi Alabi.

“Matthew,” she said, looking straight into my eyes. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

I died and resurrected within a few seconds.

Was Sikemi Alabi asking me to be her boyfriend?

Different reasons made it wrong.

First, a girl was asking a boy out. That was not our culture, at least not the one I grew up knowing.

Second, Sikemi Alabi, a nepo baby, was asking me, a LAPO baby, to be her boyfriend.

A nepo baby and a LAPO baby?

I burst out laughing before I realized how wrong my laughter was.

The look on her face told me immediately that my laughter had landed badly.

“Wow,” she said, wiping her tears. “So I have become the clown? Wait… are you trying to play me? You don’t like me? You just want to use me to get my father’s wealth!”

Hold up.

This girl was a mighty puzzle. One minute, she was talking straight. The next minute, she had reversed completely.

God abeg.

“No, why would I do that?” I said quickly. “I was only laughing at the thought that you would like someone like me. I am the child of your cleaner.”

I said it hoping she would see reason. I said it hoping the truth would open the door for my escape.

But Sikemi did not move back.

Instead, her eyes stayed fixed on me.

“You are telling lies,” she said. “Kiss me to prove it.”

That was the point where everything I had been taught should have become real to me.

“Flee from every appearance of evil.”

Immorality should have become real to me.

My mother’s warnings should have become real to me.

The Scriptures should have risen up inside me like fire.

But I stood there, fixed to the same spot like a zombie.

I watched Sikemi walk towards me with intent screaming in her eyes. I did not know whether it was fear, the devil, curiosity, or hidden desire that glued my legs to the ground, but my Jesus refused to let me go.

Jesus literally stepped into that room in the body of Mark.

“Matthew!” Mark shouted from the doorway.

His voice cut through the atmosphere like a slap.

He must have caught sight of Sikemi coming towards me because his face changed immediately.

“We will be late,” he said firmly. “I am done with the living room and kitchen. Mum should come tomorrow to clean up the rooms.”

He emphasized the word “rooms” in a way that told me clearly that I had no business cleaning Sikemi’s room.

I dropped the broom in my hand like a child who had just been rescued by an adult.

“Thank you,” I said.

Thank you for what?

I did not even know why I said it, but somehow, it made sense.

I quickly walked towards the door, but Sikemi stopped me with her words.

“I am still in Nigeria for two weeks,” she said. “If you did not lie about what you said earlier, you can come and clean the room yourself tomorrow.”

“We have extra classes,” Mark replied sharply.

“Then can I have your phone number?” she asked.

“We don’t use phones,” Mark replied. “We are not that rich yet. That is why we have to study hard and not miss classes, so we can afford one in the nearest future.”

He said it as a matter of fact.

But Sikemi ignored him completely.

“Matthew,” she said, still looking at me like Mark did not exist, “I am banking on your words.”

As we walked out of the house, my heart kept beating like someone was drumming inside my chest.

I kept asking myself one question.

What would have happened if Mark had not entered that room?

God!

Thank You for sending Mark.

To be continued…

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

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