CHAPTER SIX “WHEN WRONG IS LOUD!”

© Opeyemi Akintunde
As Inspired by the Creative Word

Rosie could tell something was up with me.

I kept drifting in and out of my thoughts during classes. My conversation with Sikemi would not let me go. It was hovering over me like a perfume I did not spray, but somehow, everybody around me could smell.

Even when the teachers were talking, my mind kept travelling back to her room.

‘Matthew, will you be my boyfriend?’

I would shake my head and return to class, only for the words to come back again.

She liked me!

By the time school closed for the day, Rosie had gathered enough evidence against me.

“What’s up?” she asked as we stepped out of the classroom.

“With?” I asked.

The defence wall came up faster than expected.

Rosie narrowed her eyes. “You came late to school, and throughout classes, you were partially absent. A few times, I caught you smiling sheepishly. Did you win a lottery?”

Lottery?

I raised my eyebrow at her.

She knew how much I hated lottery, gambling, betting, and anything that had to do with making money by chance. To me, it always felt like packaging laziness as hope.

“That was meant to be a joke,” Rosie quickly added, lifting both hands slightly. “But you were acting weird.”

“Nothing serious,” I said. “I had a conversation with someone this morning, and I found it amusing. So I have been thinking about it.”

“Oh really?” Rosie’s eyes brightened. “Who? Let me guess… a Professor?”

She said it with a wide smile.

But in that moment, something unusual happened.

I saw Rosie differently.

Like a geek.

A bookworm.

A girl whose first guess for an amusing conversation was with a Professor.

Why was it a professor she thought would say something amusing to me?

Sikemi would never speak like that.

Sikemi’s kind of conversation was not about books, equations, or scholarships. It was dangerous, bold, and somehow, exciting.

“Rosie,” I said, a little too firmly, “speaking with a professor would not be amusing. It would be enlightening. There is a difference.”

The smile on Rosie’s face faded slowly.

“So what kind of conversation do you now find amusing?” she asked.

I noticed the shift in her tone immediately.

I believed she had already sensed my own shift, and now she wanted me to be straight with her. The soft Rosie, the one that was almost exclusive to me in the entire school, disappeared quietly. The intimidating Rosie surfaced.

The Rosie that could silence a noisy class by just looking at them.

“Nothing really,” I said. “I can’t say. I only know enlightenment is different from amusement. I just wanted to correct that.”

I tried to bail.

But firm, intimidating, purpose-driven Rosie was not going to back down.

She kept glaring at me like she was saying ‘You know you have to tell me whatever it is, or I am not letting you go.’

I sighed.

“I went to the Alabi house this morning,” I said. “Mum could not go because of her health, so Mark and I went to help clean up.”

Rosie’s expression changed.

“The Alabis?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“As in Chief Alabi’s house?” she asked again

“Yes.”

Her eyes searched my face. “And?”

“I got to speak with Sikemi,” I said.

Rosie became still.

I did not know why, but her stillness made me feel like I had just dropped something heavy between us.

“And guess what she said?” I continued.

I felt like a lucky little child about to share good news. My face must have been a canvas of different emotions. Disbelief. Joy. Excitement. Fantasy. Everything was there.

“What?” Rosie asked.

“She said she likes me,” I blurted out.

The silence that followed felt like it had come to stay.

Rosie did not speak.

She only looked at me.

I did not know what to make of the silence or the look in her eyes. I could interpret it in different ways. I saw what looked like jealousy. Genuine concern. Unhappiness. Loss. Betrayal.

Or maybe I was imagining everything.

“Rosie,” I said carefully. “Are you okay?”

She nodded.

Then she swallowed hard before speaking.

I noticed the way her shoulders squared. It was as if she had packed away her emotions and brought out her backbone.

“So what is amusing about her liking you?” she asked.

“You don’t find it amusing?”

“No,” she said. “People will like people.”

I blinked.

“What I would find amusing,” Rosie continued, “is if a chicken falls in love with a human being.”

I knew what she was trying to say.

She was trying to tell me how foolish I sounded.

But in my mind, that example actually worked.

Because was that not what this was?

I was the chicken. Low class. Pecking crumbs from the floor.

Sikemi was the human. Upper class. Sitting at the table where meals arrived before hunger even introduced itself.

“Exactly,” I said. “I am a chicken loved by a human. I am a poor boy loved by a rich girl. I find it amusing. Don’t you?”

Rosie stared at me like I had just disappointed an entire nation.

“No,” she said quietly.

Then her voice became firm.

“I find it self-demeaning. Myopic. Self-limiting. Almost self-belittling.”

I frowned.

She continued.

“It sounds like inferiority complex promax that you think a rich girl liking you is a miracle worthy of Sunday testimony. I honestly thought more of you.”

The words landed one after the other.

Self-demeaning.

Myopic.

Self-limiting.

Self-belittling.

Inferiority complex promax.

Sunday testimony.

Rosie did not shout, but somehow, her words were louder than shouting.

Before I could arrange my thoughts into a reply, she turned and walked away.

I stood there, watching her go.

For a few seconds, I was not angry.

I was just confused.

I was not sure what had spoken through Rosie.

Common sense?

Genuine concern?

Jealousy?

Or maybe God?

Because sometimes, God does not speak with thunder.

Sometimes, He borrows the mouth of someone who loves you enough to insult your foolishness.

To be continued…

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

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