Forever Amiss

3 - Lolade

Lolade's POV

Now, I am more conscious of the functions of my medulla. I am drawing in oxygen, allowing my shoulders to relax as I let out carbon dioxide through my nostrils. My eyes trace the image of the human brain in my titanic biology textbook. I am studying its shape and memorizing its labels since I cannot predict what can come out in my SSCE exam two weeks from now. A hand slams on my book, disrupting my train of thought, forcing my gaze to stray laxly to the remaining body parts that connect to it.
   "Lolade, can you remind me of Newton's third law? I have forgotten it."
I chuckle. "I thought you said you can never forget it. That your brain is like a computer and that the information is safely stored."
He rolls his eyes and his arms bar over his chest. "Yes, I did but guess what? I was wrong. I can't even remember any word related to it. Help me abeg."
   "Well, I still remember it. Something we studied yesterday," I scoff, my brows crinkling. "Moses, didn't we read yesterday?"
   "Yes, we did," he replies, running his fingers down his short shock of brown hair, his eyes downcast. The sun is resting on him, making his light skin glimmer along with the driblet of his perspiration. "I was having a headache at that time, that's why nothing entered my brain."
   "But I had suggested you go home and rest. You refused, Mr computer. Jazz man!"
  He clamps his lips shut as he stifles his laughter. Moses and I have been close friends ever since the day we played football together six years ago. Our friendship had started when I had asked if the ball beside him was his and had blossomed after the match we played when he asked if we could be reading buddies. Through thorns and fluffs, our friendship for six years had grown a stout muscle that can face any challenges. I have four brothers; three related by blood and the fourth, by a strong, godly friendship. My three brothers don’t even show me the kind of love he does. Presently, I am the black sheep of the family. I don’t have an eye for good things (they said) and that book alone cannot give me money. I understand that I have to be sharp and calculated to survive in Nigeria but I do not understand why I should go to commercial class. My dad loves money so much that he wants his four boys to be big businessmen. I am the third born and my two elder brothers are in the commercial field. The first, Adeshola is studying banking and finance and the second, Bankole is studying business administration. The courses are good but the motive for studying it is flawed. Why would you study a course just because you want to be touching money every day? Is that what they have passion for, money? Our last born, Bolanle, has promised my dad that when he gets to senior secondary, he would join the department. My dad has already planned their positions in his importing and trading business. As for me, my lack of interest in that field irks him. My elder brothers took advantage of that and gave a bad image of me (rubbing mud on my good boy reputation) to my dad so that when I plan to snitch, it doesn’t produce a good result (silly). They do things against my parents’ good training and there is nothing I can do about it.
  Moses slams his hand on my desk (again), relaxing his weight on it. The desk squeaks against the marble floor, a nag over his burly body.
   "A whole Einstein junior has forgotten," he teases, cocking a brow that dares me to contradict.
I shake my head. "What a flimsy attempt to use reverse psychology on me. I haven't forgotten like you."
   "Eh...if you know it, talk na. Stop wasting time."
  "In fact, Newton's third law says—" I raise a brow at him, enjoying his face wrinkled with irritation. "It says if body A exerts a force on body B... Are you following?"
  "Ah! Lolade, what is your own na? Just talk. I know you know it. Stop showing off and talk. Mtchew!"
   "I want to know if your mind is here. Before you will tell me you don't remember," I say and smirk, tapping my index finger on the desk. He narrows his eyes and I shrug, carefree.
   "Let me say it again," I tell him. "If body A exerts a force on body B, body B will exert a force equal in magnitude but opposite to the direction of the force exerted on it by body A. Shotigbo?"
   "Erm...but there is one thing about action and reaction," he chips in.
   "Oh, that? For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction."
   "Ehen!" he exclaims, a smile on his face. "My guy, your brain is loaded. Are we reading after school today?"
     "Yes."
He lifts the exercise book beside my biology textbook and on cue, I dodge his sudden act to hit my head. "You have started again, Moses."
   "Tallest, no be so," he says, patting my forearm with the book. I'm watching him (closely) and the moment I avert my gaze; he hits the book on my forehead. "Next time, don't waste my time". He laughs and sprints off. I want to chase him. That's the best part of our play (running after each other) but I don't want to risk being called Tom and Jerry by the school principal. I recline into my wooden chair, adjusting my butt away from the rusty, dangerously extended nail at the side.

I shut my eyes. I had learnt last night, perusing the internet as the rain poured rigorously on my rooftop, that humans cannot hear all vibrations. We can hear thunder because it vibrates within the human limit of audible frequencies. Isn't that fascinating?
  Here I am, in my classroom, the murmurs of every student funnel through my pinna into the external auditory canal in my ears. Once again, I am conscious of my environment, not to listen to the main gossip topic of three girls sitting behind me, the analysis of an action movie by two boys at my side, not the hum of a Christian music at my front, but to relish the richness of every overtones. I cringe when someone bursts into laughter (one that mimics the famous cartoon character, SpongeBob). She laughs so hard that others become irritated, fueling the wrath within the boy beside her. His ears are standing as he tightens his jaw, sealing his teeth, his eyes bulging. She laughs some more and drops to the floor, her body quaking with excitement. He glares at his book and growls, "Stop shouting into my ears!"
   "Shouting ke? I'm laughing," she responds and her friends help her up. She dusts her skirt and they whisper muddled words to her that make her erupt with boisterous laughter. The boy snaps to his feet, pointing his index finger to them. "If you don't stop making noise, I will report."
    "Olodo! I am not making noise. I'm laughing. Ah! Someone cannot laugh again?"
     "Stop laughing," he hisses.
   "Is it your laugh, this boy? Eh! Leave me oo! I don't want wahala.
  This causes a bicker that leads them walking out of the class. Whose case will win when presented to our class teacher? That result will come out later. I sigh. This girl fails to understand that ears are sensitive and it's hard to have a conducive reading environment when one laughs the way she does. I feel propelled to get involved. I am the assistant head boy. I should do something. I shake my head. I won't. I don't want to aggravate the matter.
  My keen eyes easily trail down to my huge biology textbook. I flip to the page with the human brain and begin to absorb the information, like the commingling of water into cotton, the freshly tapped knowledge tossing a lasso that pulls me deeper into its content. I'm in another world, floating and leaping, filtering and fishing, the essentials for my upcoming exam but it seems that no one wants to give me bliss. This time, someone kicks my leg and swings the textbook to the floor. Bam!  A book of that magnitude is now lying on the floor. I sneer and I'm strangling the culprit with my wide eyes. Can't I read in peace? What's wrong with everyone?
   "Dwarf, we have to complete our talk," BB (which stands for Baddest Barnabas) snorts, hands buried in his pockets. He irons out his shoulder and pulls his face into a stern look, his black lips curling into a smirk.
  I'm stoic, my usual mien when he is before me. His grating breath wafts across my forehead and my muscles tense. "Are you too much of a coward to do it?" he asks and his accomplices laugh. My bushy brows elevate causing my forehead to rumple up. The cool wind slips past my skin, a nuzzling that leaves my hairs standing. I can hear my heartbeat and I know I don't want them to hear it too. So I rise from my chair, giving off an intimidating pose, legs apart, hands balled into fists and my head cranes forward. They can't know if you don't show it. It's not that I'm scared but I just know that it's not proper to challenge a person that finds joy in boxing others.
   "This boy is scared to do it," one of his boys blurts out, an accusing look on me.
   "Do what?" I ask and bend to pick my book up. I regain my previous pose and raise a brow in question.
  "Don't act like you don't know," BB growls, eyes on me, bloodshot from all the cigarettes he has consumed this week. I'm ashamed that he takes pride in being called the baddest (most notorious) boy in class. He even had the audacity to create a gang in our school. "I have already bought the cigarette and the sachet gin".
  "Leave this small boy. He is that caged bird that we were reading about in literature class. Mummy's boy! Omo get inside! Na why e no fit do am," a raspy voice butts in, pouring tension into the hovering silence. I turn my head to him. My upper eyelids touch the lower, presenting darkness that I soak in before I let it fling open. I repeat that action and my (I-don't-care-what-you-say) look was aptly interpreted as he rolls his eyeballs.
  "Dwarf, I dared you to smoke and to drink that gin after school. You must do it. It's either you prove yourself today or I beat you up. You were making mouth yesterday that you are a mature and sensible boy."
  "Yes, I did. And until you are able to understand those words," I dust the back of my textbook. "I'll walk away.”
And I did. I walked away because to make me go against my principles, you need to work harder.
   "Lolade. You. After school today. I will break your legs!" BB hurled. "Mark my words!"