| Imran Adebayo Ibrahim |
I lost my innocence faster than I could ever lose my virginity. Skipping school wasn't the only crime we committed, we also stole a power bike that belonged to a senior — a senior who was in Omar's class. Like that wasn't enough, he rode like a maniac, taking me to the place I never thought existed, a metropolis for crime and lust.
Omar was obnoxious, regardless of my yelling like a girl, he kept increasing the velocity, making me scream harder. The scenery was the worst, the buildings were moving backwards, but this time even faster. Cold air rushed inside my eyes, causing me to shed a tear or two. I clung tightly to his jacket, desperate to avoid a disastrous outcome.
At that fleeting second of my life, I realized that; a life of crime doesn't suit me. I wouldn't make it in life being a Mafioso — maybe being a Doctor would work. My face had shook from my skull, it was all chapped and thick: my natural face was dry but I tried to make it oily with loads of dermatologist tested lotion, all the lotion I'd applied dried off quickly as cold breeze rushed through my face like tiny swords.
My screaming halted as soon as Omar stepped on the brake, making the bike jolt forward abruptly. I held into him tightly, even when the bike had stopped working I didn't let go.
"So—" He began, unlocking my fingers away from his stomach, "—we are here."
Embarrassed, I jumped down from the bike, wiping the dust off my face. "Where are we?" I inquired, looking at the enormous abandoned building in front of us.
I stood at the edge of the overgrown field, my gaze fixated on the towering silhouette of the abandoned complex Omar had taken me. My eyes, wide with curiosity and perhaps a hint of fear, traced the structure of the decaying structure, taking in every detail of its old scenery.
Amongst the old scenery, I could see dilapidated machineries which were also abandoned, despite their dilapidated state, they still held an air of kinetics to them, whispering tales of their former glory days — whenever that was.
My teenage mind buzzed with questions as I contemplated the importance of the abandoned complex and the stories it held within its crumbling walls. What secrets lay hidden behind those boarded-up windows? What inhumane behavior was being carried out inside?
Lost in my thought, I took a reluctant step forward, drawn closer by the allure of the abandoned complex.
"Yo man!" Omar's voice broke my trance, "you can feel that too?" He said over his struggling to lock the stolen bike, I nodded at his question, "that's the feeling of good gas." He finished in ecstasy.
"It is?" Was only what I could say before walking to the padlocked gate. "It's locked." I announced, shaking the chained gate aggressively, brown rusted dirt smeared on my palms from the gate.
"You sure haven't rebelled before." Omar said with a wry chuckle. Hitting the padlock with an algae -covered stone he picked up, the lock broke open, "it's open now, you're welcome."
Awestruck, I applauded his stupidity. All I wanted at that instance was fame.
"Shall we explore?"
I nodded while I was walking in, "yes sir!"
The inside of the abandoned complex was different from the outside. The walls weren't crumbling, rather they were sprayed with multiple colors. In vibrant hues, the spray-painted wall depicts the essence of Atlanta. Brightly colored murals adorned the walls as neon light scattered on each corner, showcasing Atlanta's thriving arts scene and diverse communities. In the foreground of the wall, people of color were drawn, dancing to the rhythm of jazz and hip-hop, which reflected Atlanta's vibrant music scene and influential role in shaping popular culture. I fell in love with Atlanta by looking at such diverse artwork, I always knew the most precious rose was the one that sprouted through concrete floors — I was too quick to judge Omar, they were very talented.
"You like?" Omar said, laying his hand on my shoulder.
I smiled, affirming. "Wallahi, it's unique. I love it."
"Well, welcome to the club, dawg." Someone said from behind. I was startled by their arrival; the room wasn't illuminated properly so I didn't see anyone, other than Omar and the art.
Someone switched on the light, and I could see the whole room — breathtakingly beautiful. At that moment I noticed there were three more people with us. Two huge, fitted guys, like Omar and a Tomboy. She wore a basketball jersey and covered her head with a Nike face cap, her nose ring rhymed with her gothic personality.
"Immie-Man, this is Tabitha, Devin and Matt." Omar introduced them to me, I literally just met the unofficial cool kids of Midtown High.
I squealed like a banshee — excited to my core. Although, my squeal was muted. "Hi, I'm Imran Raymond-" I couldn't tell them my Nigerian last name, it would make me feel too-Nigerian.
"Yo! He is Zayd's stepbrother? Respect, man!" Devin, I think, initiated a ghetto handshake with me and I flopped mercilessly, as I don't know the moves.
Chuckling awkwardly, I rubbed my head after that disastrous handshake. "I'm happy to be here, you guys are cool."
"Sure we are." Tabitha said, ushering me to a large table I didn't notice before, "welcome to the cool and exclusive party." She said, taking her seat at the front of the table, routinely the rest also took their seats.
I was hesitant to sit, gazing at the items on the table made my leg quiver. On the table were a series of Hookah, the types I'd never seen before. They even had something that looked a lot like a conical flask in the middle of the table, yellow liquid was boiling inside and white cloudy smoke evaporated from the flask. The strong stench of Hashish (shisha) disrupted my sense of smell, right in front of me was what Omar claimed to be the good gas. Adderall was also scattered on the table.
At that instance, I retracted my comment about them being talented, they were a bunch of addicts.
"This one is surely a mummy's boi." Matt commented, blowing out cute little heart shaped yellow cloudy smoke from his mouth.
"Sure." Tabitha agreed and they all babbled in laughter, except for Omar who was blowing air into the conical flask thingy.
I've defied every law that tied me down right from the school's premises, chickening out at that point would make all my effort go down the drain. I wasn't ready to be seen as; that chicken Nigerian boy, I wanted to be seen as one of them.
"I'm not." I took my seat, "I've done coke before," that lie slid just directly out of my mouth effortlessly.
The bewilderment on the three of their faces was palpable. "Bruh, you've done coke? Respect man, I never knew Nigerians have access to that." Tabitha complemented.
Omar tutted, he knew I was lying, but he kept quiet.
"Why don't you have candy then?" Stupid Matthew suggested, retrieving a sachet filled with pink tablets from his side bag, he picked one tablet out of it and handed it to me.
"Matt, man. Y'know we don't do molly." Omar barked, frowning at him.
"Chillax Omar, he's done coke before, this should be easy." Devin spoke.
To my disappointment, Omar literally chillaxed. It was at that moment I knew I was done for.
"C'mon." Matt gestured the filthy pill at me.
Like I was under hypnotism, I picked the pill from his palm. I had watched many movies about people getting high and saying all sorts of weird stuff. I didn't want to say anything I'd regret, so I was hesitant.
"We are waiting." That impatient dog — Matt — barked.
Closing my eyes, I opened my mouth and dropped the pill on my tongue — I did that theatrics because that's how everyone does drugs in movies. It felt cool as I closed my mouth, softening the solid pill with my saliva, after it had turned liquid, my whole tongue lit up with bitterness and a slight of sourness, instantly, I swallowed the concoction I had made with my mouth.
The four of them cheered me up as I swallowed it. They felt proud of me, I could see it in their faces. I felt the sudden urge to impress them, so I picked up the hookah, took a long puff from it. I choked at first and coughed out scattered smoke — after attempting it the second time, I had a zigzagged heart.
"Man, you should slow down." Omar cautioned.
"Yeah man, you don't wanna Od'." They all warned me as well.
"No." I said in ecstasy, the range of happiness I felt at that moment was beyond explanation. "I can do all the drugs you can offer," I said, couching the hookah in my grip. What happened after was strange, my head just felt empty suddenly, and it fell on the desk with greater force — surprisingly; I felt no pain.
"Ouch. . . That hurts." I heard them whisper.
"Imran! Are you okay?" I could hear Omar's concerned voice calling me frantically. I could feel him shaking me as well. This made me feel so happy that I opened my eyes, looking at him - I saw his beautiful face, gold scraps were scattered on his face, he was beaming like an angel — he even had a halo on his head, floating with majesty.
"Olohun, you are too fine." I said, caressing Omar's cheeks — I was damn high.
"What? We better get this on camera." I heard Tabitha say.
I didn't care though. I persisted in molesting Omar. Despite Omar's hitting, I kept touching his face. "Your profile is so alluring, you're the best thing that ever happened to me. You light up the sky, I'll worship the ground you work on, oh great Omar." I blabbed.
"Oh. . . He is stoned." I heard one of them say, snapping their fingers, "this is gonna get me thousands of followers."
"Not cool, Matt. Stop recording him!" I heard Omar yelling at his friends.
"Don't worry baby," I couldn't stop talking, "I will be an actor for you."
They all roared into a very contagious laughter that Omar joined in. "Imran, stop talkin'. This is definitely your first time gettin' high."
"No, My darling Sahar—" right in front of me I could see Sahar's face instead of Omar's. "Mo ni ife re gan." I finalized, before hearing the door burst open. Looking at the broken door, I saw another angel — Zayd freaking Raymond, running towards us.
"Omar! How dare you!" I could hear him yell.
"He is okay dawg." He said to him, shrugging his shoulder.
"He isn't, he has never done drugs before, what were you thinkin'?" My stepbrother said to Omar before pouring a chilled water at my face. Instantly, I was transferred into the bottom of the ocean, God — getting high was the worst. "Let's go home, idiot."
"I don't want to. I'm still playing with my beloved Omar and Sahar." Words just couldn't stop rushing out of my mouth.
"Enough of your stupidity, prick." With one arm, Zayd held me up — carrying me in his arm like a newlywed. I resisted his grip, kicking the air and fighting my way to be free. "Stop doing that!" Zayd yells, spanking my butt.
"I hate you, you're an Omo odé, you don craze, Fi mi sile, Omo Ale." I hurled all the curse I could gather at him, saying everything in my native tongue.
"This is not the end freak." Was the last thing I heard before everything blurred, I gave in and allowed myself to be carried by Zayd.
Author's Note
So. . . Today, it's not the author talking, but your favorite Nigerian boi; Yeah, it's me, Imran. I just wanna wish y'all a beautiful Eid today, may all your inner desires be granted, and may we witness more Eid inshallah. Hope y'all got to eat those steamy hot samosas. Stay safe and stay halal!
Glossary
1. Wallahi: is an Arabic word which means 'I swear by Allah'.
2. Shisha: refers to a water pipe used for smoking flavored tobacco.
3. Od: means overdose.
4. Olohun: is a Yoruba Word for God.
5. Mo ni ife rè: means I Love You in Yoruba language
6. Omo odé, you don craze, Fi mi sile, Omo Ale: means Bastard - you're out of your mind - leave me the hell alone - bastard in Yoruba language.