All back and a base - (All back - a simple hair weave to the back in a straight and neat column) and (a base - A small weaving down in the front). It's a usual hairstyle done among students in Nigeria.
THE FEMALE RESTROOM
I hurried into the female restroom and a vacant toilet, shutting and locking the door right after. Standing still, I felt my heart race within my chest. The hair on my body was on edge. I could see my hand trembling in fear. My breathing was becoming hard to catch.
For the next few seconds, I stood in silence, waiting, listening, hoping he doesn't find me and at the same time consoling myself with the thought that he wouldn't dare walk into the female restroom.
After a while passed, somehow, I concluded he was gone or better yet, I exaggerated ever seeing him in the first place. Yes, my eyes must have played tricks on me. It would be foolish of me to rule out the possibility of a guilty conscience which developed as a result of having felt a wave of joy upon hearing the sad news. That was it. It had to be it.
I unlocked the door and quietly stepped out, looking left and right, there was not a sight of a single soul. All were in their various classrooms and I'd stepped out of mine with an excuse of using the toilet. My gaze fell on my reflection within the large mirror that hung just above the sinks. My uniform of a milky short-sleeved shirt and dark brown pleated knee-length skirt wore beautifully on me. My tie of exact colour as the skirt had been properly knotted and hung perfectly around my neck. My hair was plaited in the usual all back and a base, the school's hairstyle for the week.
I let out a light sigh. "Get a hold of yourself Rida," I told myself, something I did from time to time to keep myself in check.
Turning on the running water, I kept my hands under it. If I was to sell the story of having used the toilet, I'll need convincing evidence. Having done that, I turned off the faucet and reached into my strap bag for my handkerchief. I found it and lightly wiped my hands with it before looking back up to the mirror.
"Rida."
The familiar image called and I couldn't help the scream that escaped my lips at the sight of him.
Rewind... 3 hours earlier...
I'd woken up as usual to the early morning song echoed from far away through the speakers that hung outside the mosque. I turned on my bed, refusing to accept the fact that it was five in the morning already.
You'll be late for school.
My subconscious reminded and being the little miss perfect that I am, I fluttered my eyes open. Lazily, I sat up. The door opened and Erika, my big sister popped her head in.
"Good, you're up. Come out for devotion." She stated quickly before shutting the door behind her.
Though lazy, I managed to drag myself out of bed. Putting on my slippers, I took hold of my bible on the bedside table and soon made my way out of the room. I went down the stairs and into the living room where everyone except me was already seated.
"Good morning mum, dad, aunt Destiny." I greeted the three adults that resided in the same home as I did.
"Morning." They responded almost in unison as they looked my side.
My dad, ebony with the features of an average early fifties Nigerian male was in one of his familiar pyjamas. His reading glasses laid low on the bridge of his nose and he wasn't one to talk much.
Mum on the other hand did most of the talking; she was the caretaker and author behind the family's daily devotion. She was soft-hearted but also not one to be taken lightly. Her complexion, fairly lighter than dad. Her opened bible laid on her laps and as I took my seat on the sofa beside my older sister, our eyes met for a brief moment.
"Destiny give us a worship song." mum ordered and my attention was directed to the fair young lady that lives with us at the cost of being a helper.
There was a moment of silence as she thought of an appropriate song before venturing further.
* * *
I applied a barely visible amount of strawberry lip gloss on my lips and smacked for evenness. Satisfied, I wore my school bag over my shoulder and made my way out of the room.
"Rida, have you had breakfast?" Mum's question stopped me halfway towards the door.
"I ate a slice of bread," I confessed once I made a turn to the sight of her standing at the dining area.
"Just a slice? What about tea?"
"I didn't feel like having tea." I defended.
"You don't eat in the morning because you feel like it. You eat to be able to listen properly to your teachers in class without having to worry about the ache in your stomach. Erika try and make your sister understand." She nagged before walking away back into the kitchen just as Erika had stepped out of it.
"You know, there are starving kids on the streets of Lagos but it's great to be Kamharida." She stated, pronouncing my full name as she took her seat at the dining table, ready to have her breakfast.
I sighed, rolling my eyes at her usual act of holier than thou.
"Do you have classes today?" I queried with an intention in mind.
She shook her head as she had a bite of her sandwiched bread and scrambled eggs. "Why?"
"I need to buy something and you know dad will never let me go alone."
"Really?" She raised her brows at me.
"Buy something or meet your boyfriend?" She teased and I shook my head at her childishness before turning away.
"I'm off to school."
Once outside the two-storey building I call home, I hurried my way into the backseat of the black Mercedes parked right in front. After a second of waiting, I stepped back out.
"Mr Shola, I'm going to be late," I complained at the driver that seems to never find an end to the thorough washing of the car.
"I'm sorry for the delay." He apologized once he got into the car and I nodded in accordance.
He honked to get the attention of the gate-man who quickly rushed out of his small home by the gate and began his work of pushing the gates open and making sure they stayed open as we drove out.
As we drove into the school compound, I couldn't help glancing at the bold sign 'Montgomery college Lagos' that laid right in the middle of the large three-decker building. The walls were painted in a milky colour. The school was privately co-owned by a British and a Nigerian. The students ran around, some hurrying to their classes, others meeting up with friends.
"You'll be here on time, right?" I asked the driver, a young and dark-skinned man who hailed from the Yoruba tribe.
"Most probably." He replied as he turned to me and I couldn't help the look I gave him before stepping down from the car. I hate it when I'll have to stay back after school waiting all alone because Dad suddenly sent him on an errand.
"Bye," I told him before shutting the door and walking away.
* * *
At the assembly ground, every student belonged to a column, arranged from the youngest class to the oldest. Each class owning two columns, one for the females and the other belonging to the males. We stood at erect and neat, paying attention to whatever the principal had to say from where he stood up front.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and glanced once behind my shoulder. Laila, my closest friend smiled at me. We were of similar weight, height and body build. I did the same but was quick to look back ahead for fear of being caught by one of the prefects.
"Have you heard?" She whispered as she leaned a bit closer.
Though maintaining eye level with the man up front speaking, I endeavored a reply to my friend without making a complete head turn.
"Heard what?" I whispered back.
"Bayo had an accident and he's in coma."
Her reply left me in a moment of surprise. I'd watched his annoying smile play on his face last Friday as he waved goodbye to his friends after school and wished I'd never have to see it again by Monday.
A thought crossed my mind at the possible fact that my terrible wishes might have done that to him. I felt a pang of fear but right after, a joyous feeling settled at another thought of losing a great competitor.
Steadily, a smirk wore at the side of my face.