CHAPTER 1
“You will all die.” the wrinkled old man said to his audience, which was made up of three boys garbed in school uniform. A cream shirt with stripes, a black pair of trousers and a blue tie with the school's crest on it. They were in a room decorated with different objects of voodoo. Skeletal frames of wild animals hung everywhere and the dominant colors of the room seemed to be red and black. A human skull marked with chalk stood ominously on the mantelpiece.
As scary as the scenery was, the wrinkled old man was even scarier. He had a wild look about him which was usually found around madmen. His left eye rotated far too often, his smile appeared too wide for his small face and his gray hair, which had grown into dreadlocks, was heavily beaded and flowed right down to his chest.
Despite his crazy appearance, it was obvious that he had been very handsome in his youth. An athletic build, coupled with a well-chiseled face, would have made the ladies fall. The years had not been kind to him and now, he seemed a mere shadow of his past glory.
The tallest of the boys was the first to recover. “We know that," he said with a slight frown. "That’s not what we paid for”.
“You paid the obvious price, so I told you the obvious future.” the old man replied, evidently feeling satisfied with himself.
Indeed, the sign outside his consulting area had read ‘Know your future, find your fate and seek your destiny for just a thousand naira’. It was not the first time he had used that to dupe customers, nor would it be the last. The boys looked at one another and a silent agreement was made. They reached into the pockets of their school trousers and brought out more money, dumping it roughly on the rickety table that separated them from the old man.
“Will this be enough?” the tallest asked with a certain annoyance in his tone. He hated spending money normally and hated being duped even more. The old man merely stared blankly into space, lost in his thoughts. The shortest of the group who was also getting annoyed, reached forward and tapped the old man’s hand. The old man snatched his hand back immediately, rattling his young customers. He fixed them with a confused stare as if to ask who they were and why they were in his office, so to speak. Slowly, he looked at the rough stack of money on the table, then looked at their long faces for a while. After a moment, he smiled widely.
“Oh, this is interesting, this is very interesting. Who would have thought?” he asked rhetorically, looking from one face to another.
Seated at the right, was the tallest who was light skinned and had a pear-shaped head that made his features look inconspicuous. His face was accessorized with a pair of glasses that made him look quite like a nerd. He was also the largest with more muscles than the other two. On the left was the shortest, who looked more feminine than masculine. Dark skinned with his pink lips and a rather perky nose, he was considered attractive by many. It was the boy in between these two that caught the old man’s gaze for a long period. He too was light skinned and attractive in his own way. He had a slight smile that never seemed to leave his face and everything about him spoke nonchalance. Everything but his light brown eyes, which seemed to read every one and everyone.
“You will all die,” he said again and then added, “because of one another”. The three boys looked at one another confused. The old man stopped to cough. It was an intense fit that had him vibrating in his wooden chair. When it passed, he cleared his throat like nothing happened and continued. “Your deaths would be caused directly or indirectly by one another,” he paused to gaze at them one after the other again. “You would be the downfall of one another. And you…” he said, when his eyes fell upon the ever-smiling boy. “You sir, will die while staring into the sunset, pondering if your life was ever worth living”. The boys seated on the left and right were visibly shaken up by this dreadful news but not the one in the middle. He just kept smiling.
___
Birds circled the vast blue sky, flying about with so much freedom, gliding over the shapeless clouds and doing what they wished. The freedom of the birds of the air made Christian Adewale envious. The lyrics of a popular song came to him as he stared out of his open classroom window. ‘Why work so hard, when you could just be free?’ he wondered. Why couldn’t he do what he wished? Why couldn’t he do as he pleased? The rest of the class was hanging on to every word the teacher was saying. Mr. Fatai, a short, lively man, was teaching mathematics which was by far Christian’s least liked subject. It was the last subject of the day and he would have skipped the class altogether if there wasn't a big examination coming up. The examination would determine if he could enter any University. Oddly enough, many people failed this examination mainly because of the dreadful subject Mathematics. Christian had read the general statistics and did not very much like his odds. Although he was deep in thought, he still had a vague smile plastered on his face. Only his hazel eyes betrayed the worry that plagued his mind.
A bell rang, rousing him from his thoughts. He breathed a sigh of relief.
“Another maths class gone.” he thought to himself.
He started packing his books into his backpack as he observed everyone, watching and listening. He was not the social type but had imbibed the habit of nodding in acknowledgment to classmates. Only two people had the nerve to walk up to him and start a conversation without the fear of being snubbed. They hated mathematics just as he did so he was not surprised to see they had their backpacks on as though they were ready before the bell was rung.
“Guys, we’re going to fail this exam.” the short one, who was named Femi Arogundade, declared to no one in particular. Despite the fact that he was not very social either, he caught the stares of almost every female classmate. They all giggled and whispered when they saw him. He had stirred up so many controversies in their circles without lifting a finger.
“I’m going to fast and pray for three days just for this mathematics.” said the tall boy, who was called Chima Eke. His pair of glasses fooled most to thinking he was a whiz at his academics. How mistaken they were. The trio was a unique bunch in the school as they seldom spoke to any other student.
“Just three days? You’re not ready to pass then.” replied Christian as he swung his backpack across his shoulder and joined the procession of people exiting the classroom. It had been two weeks since they had visited that fortune teller and heard of their impending doom. At first, they had been terrified but now they just felt annoyed. Femi and Chima had decided the old man was just sprouting fairy tales from his head and considered the money they paid, a waste.
“Last week is still paining me. I just wanted to know if we’d pass this stupid exam. What’s our business with the death of a sunset or whatever?” Femi asked irritated, still quite furious.
“You don’t get to point fingers. Lest we forget, it was you who suggested we go to him in the first place” Chima grimly replied while Christian just gazed at the sunset thinking how beautiful it would be to actually die at sunset. The old man was wrong, even if his prophecy was right. Why on earth would he wonder if his life was worth living?
They were walking out of the gate reminiscing on their journey to the soothsayer’s place when Christian noticed a big blue jeep across the road. He knew whom the car belonged to and the reason it was here.
“Listen guys, I’d catch up with you later.” he said as he dashed across the road without waiting for a reply from his friends. The jeep belonged to the mother of his classmate Charles Makinde. They had been his neighbors before his family had moved away. It seemed odd that Mrs. Makinde came to pick Charles up instead of the usual driver.
“Good afternoon ma.” he said with a slight bow to the woman seated inside. Politeness and a show of respect, he had observed, always gained him favor with older people so he had made it a habit to seem as polite and respectful as possible. She turned slowly as if she couldn’t believe someone had dared addressed her. Taking off the pair of designer shades from her eyes, recognition dawned on her.
“Ahahn, Chris, long time o, how are you?” Mrs. Makinde asked, lowering the window with a button. She had the look of a woman who lacked nothing. Her hair flowed to her shoulders which was uncommon for women of her age.
“I’m fine ma” he replied, maintaining his respectful posture which was having both his hands behind his back.
“And your mother and sister?”
“They are well, thank you ma” Christian replied.
“Okay, my regards to them,” she said to which he just smiled and started towards his friends.
“Ermm, Chris!” she called to him. He walked back to her car briskly.
“Ma?”
“How’s Charles doing?” she inquired. Christian looked quite puzzled so she added, “How’s he doing in school? I mean academically.”
“Oh that. Well….” He gave the older woman an apologetic smile. Her son had been doing woefully in school. Due to the upcoming annual examinations into higher institutions, the school had set up extra lessons for students in the subjects they were weak in. Charles was weak in every subject. Mrs. Makinde understood without Christian saying a word
“I see,” she said, “Anyways, thank you, my regards to your mum and sister”.
Christian began to walk away, but then, he glanced back. Her focus was already back on the school and she looked on, deep in thought. It all came suddenly to him. She came to pick her child today instead of the usual driver because she was on a mission. Charles’s extra lessons must be telling at home as held hours after the official closing time for the school. Even with all the extra lessons, no one was fooled. The result would still be terrible. Mrs. Makinde was probably here looking for a teacher or someone who would be able to salvage her son’s academic future. It wasn’t uncommon to see deals made by parents so it stood to reason that that was her reason for being here.
With this sudden realization, Christian turned back and walked to the car again
“Excuse me ma,” he began, “I think I can be of some assistance.” She looked at him and then nodded for him to proceed. “I know someone who has access to the results before it is officiated,” he paused to gauge her reaction. Her eyes widened and she sat up, more alert than she was before. “But you’d have to get Charles’s registration number and you might have to pay a lot”.
“Ha, Chris! God will bless you! Get me the person’s contact details”. The relief she felt was evident on her face.
“No problem, ma.” Christian answered.
“Oh, and could you help me get Charles’s registrar number too?” she asked “Registration number and yes of course ma”.
With that, Christian jogged to meet up with his friends. By the time he caught up them, his smile was wider than usual.
“What did she want?” they both asked simultaneously. He looked from Chima to Femi then said
“She was just asking about my Mum and Sis.” he answered innocently.
____
“Christian, you’re late, again,” Shade Adewale said, “Hope it’s because you were studying and not because of your friends?”
“I was studying, ma” Christian said to his mother as he proceeded towards his room. She always asked him if he had been studying as if to remind him of the difficulty of the examinations that were approaching. He noticed she was dressed to work, the second time today and it saddened him greatly. Ever since his father went to prison, his mother had worked two jobs. A banker by day and an adult-school teacher by night.
His father, Michael Adewale was an investment banker who had catered for his children and his wife and had no inkling of being a criminal. So it was a great shock when the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission came to their home to arrest him. During his trial, his father had claimed he was framed by his associates in the ministry of finance. The investment bank he worked for was a front used to launder money. He had pleaded with the jury, promising to uncover and divulge the whereabouts of the laundered funds if they agreed to drop the charges.
The judge had simply replied “Tell that to the Judge.” which hadn’t been a promising reply. So Mr. Adewale had kept mum about the hundred and thirty seven million naira and had been sentenced to thirty-five years without the possibility of early parole. Christian had a feeling that his father did divulge the whereabouts but only to his wife about it, but she was being too cautious to touch it.
Christian was still thinking about his father when he heard his mother drive off. At this sort of time, they would be playing ball in the backyard or watching a show together. That was before the trial period. The trial period, as he later learned to call it, consisted of the long days during which the whole family would be at the court for his father’s hearing. That was a year ago, but it felt like ten.
The clock struck six and a bird chimed rocking him from memories. He had the whole house to himself. His older sister wasn’t around to watch television so he decided to go study in the living room. He had developed a queer method of choosing what to study. All his books would be shuffled and reshuffled in his school bag, and then he would pick anyone at random. No matter the subject, he forced himself to read it for at least an hour. Today, Christian performed his little ritual and picked randomly.
“Maths, just my luck.” he said out loud as he picked up a gigantic mathematics book and started studying.
Half an hour later, his mind had begun to wander. He remembered his earlier discussion with Mrs. Makinde and the promise he had made to her. He knew of a man that had access to the result before they are made public. Left to him, he would have contacted the man on his own behalf due to his fear of mathematics. The only issue was that the guy charged a lot and he couldn’t bring himself to bother his mother. She didn't believe in bribing one's way to success before his father went to prison and was sure not going to believe it after.
Christian was aware of his serious predicament and began to ponder on it. A thought had occurred to him during his conversation with Mrs. Makinde but it had been so ludicrous he had had to put it aside. But alas, it had been the only solution without a hitch he could come up with.
He was still thinking of his little dilemma when his sister came home from her University. She had preferred to stay home with the family than stay on the campus.
“Evening, you.” she said wearily as she poked her head in the living room.
“Evening, Kate. How was school?” he asked her
“Fine, fine” she replied with a tired smile. “Hope you’re reading, like really reading? We don’t want you to rest too much after your exams, like…” she said, giving him a familiar look and leaving the rest unspoken. She had waited two years before getting admission and not even into the course she wanted. He nodded in response.
“Well, let me leave you to it.” she said walking towards her room. Christian slammed the mathematics textbook he had been staring at uncomprehendingly. That was the last straw. He had to pass Mathematics and he knew what to do.
¬___
The closing bell sounded louder than usual as it jugged Christian out of his thoughts. It was the next day and the last subject was over. Although it had been government, his favorite subject, his mind had been miles away, pondering his plan. As usual, Chima and Femi had come to meet him with their talks.
“Who’s prettier, Bibi or Riri?”
Of course, they would either be talking about the latest song on MTV-base or discussing the hottest girls in the school. It had been his idea to use musician’s nicknames as codenames for the girls so they wouldn’t get caught. When asked his opinion about the music or the girls, he would often just smile and shrug. He preferred reading novels and philosophical books to watching the latest music videos. As for the girls, not many impressed him, he was into what he called ‘mental beauty’ which his friends never really understood.
“Chris!” Femi’s voice reached his ears “I asked you, who is finer, Bibi or Riri?” He had forgotten to smile and shrug.
“I don’t know, probably Biri” Christian said as he swung his backpack over his shoulder and started walking away. He wasn’t in the mood today. As expected, Chima and Femi had both heard what they wanted to and had launched into an argument
“See! Even Chris can see that…” Femi said, satisfied with himself.
“What!”Chima exclaimed, “He said Riri!”
Christian didn’t have time for this, so he strode forward, leaving the bickering duo behind. Their bantering would only hinder his thinking. Would his preposterous plan work?
Outside the gate, they beheld the usual traffic of the closing hour. Christian did not seem to notice it as he searched for a Mrs. Makinde’s blue Range Rover. He found it way down the road.
“Be right back.” he said to the two still arguing behind him then turned to walk briskly towards the car. The phone number of the tech guru was written boldly on the paper he held. Charles’s registration number was on a piece of paper in his right pocket and in his left pocket was...
“Good afternoon ma.” he said cheerily to the woman
“Oh Chris, how was school?” she inquired.
“Well, we thank God o,” he said in a Yoruba accented voice which caused her to laugh. “Here’s the guy’s number,” he continued, handing over the paper in his hand.
“Thank you so very much,” she said, happily collecting the paper. “And Charles’s matric number?”
“Registration number.” he corrected, reaching into his left pocket and handing over the piece of paper within.
“Thank you so much, Christian, you’ve done me a huge favor.”
“Please,” he said “The pleasure’s all mine.” he said with a sly smile on his face.
CHAPTER 2
"I’m in!" Christian thought to himself as he stepped into the faculty of Social Sciences. It was the day lectures were scheduled to begin all around the university. He still hadn’t wrapped his head around his luck. After he had handed over his registration number to Mrs. Makinde in place of Charles’s, he had intensified on his studying in case that should fail. It hadn’t. He had prayed and fasted before checking the result. Immediately he did, he knew some other force than his handiwork was in play. Out of the four subjects he had written, his highest score had been mathematics which frankly, just didn’t add up. He had beheld gibberish questions in the exam and had tendered gibberish answers in the mathematics section. There was no way he could have gotten the score he saw on his own. Femi and Chima weren’t as lucky. Both had flunked mathematics woefully despite passing the other three subjects. Chima’s father decided he should join the nation’s defense academy while Femi’s was insistent that he attempt the examination again. How unfortunate that was for the both of them. But that wasn’t his problem, he was in and that was all that mattered.
The course he had registered for was Political science in the faculty of Social Sciences. Most people hadn’t understood his choice and had advised against his choice of course. "It’s not a money course" was the gist of their argument but his mind was already made up. He had a dream, a grand one resulting in his ruling the nation and probably the world afterwards, but there was no point divulging his little secret, was there?
"I’m in!" he thought again, stepping into the lecture room he had been directed to by a Good Samaritan. It was three times larger than his old classroom. There were so many chairs going uphill that Christian felt minute. It resembled the kind of theatre he only saw in stadiums. He chose a seat at the end of the class which was at the highest point and started climbing towards it. No one would notice or disturb him, he figured. He was quite early so the lecture room wasn’t really occupied, only a few people here and there. He nodded politely to those who glanced in his direction and then went to settle at the back. The lecture wasn’t for another hour, so he picked up his copy of Sun Tzu’s ‘Art of War’, his favorite book after Robert Greene's '48 Laws of Power'.
As he read and pondered on the ideas being propounded, he observed a figure enter the lecture room. It did not escape his notice that every other person had turned to the door at the same time as he did. A student, inarguably the most beautiful girl he had seen, waltzed into the room like she owned it. She had make-up on but Christian doubted it was really needed. Her accessories seemed quite expensive and her clothes screamed ‘latest trend’. The sound of her bangles and chains were dulled only by the knock of her heels against the marble boarded floor. Neither male nor female could take their eyes off her as she made her way into the class, climbing the narrow staircase to the back. From her facial expression beneath the silver Ray-Ban shades she wore, he could see that this kind of attention was not alien to her. As she crossed him to sit on the seat next to his, he concluded, that she was the kind that craved and got attention from everyone and everywhere. Perfect, just the kind of person he hated.
___
"What’s his problem?" Simisola Fowoshere thought to herself as she passed the fair boy at the back of the class. His fixed smile had actually bent into a frown when she sat by his side, a reaction she wasn’t used to receiving. Awe, admiration and adoration were usually the facial expressions of males she was in proximity to. Maybe he was gay. Maybe he one of the many admirers that she had been snubbing since she entered the school but she doubted it. She wouldn’t snub someone that pretty.
He had returned back to reading his storybook, or novel, or whatever it was he was reading and wasn’t even stealing sideways glances at her. How rude! Not stealing glances at Simisola Fowoshere? No, he would eventually, they always do eventually. All she had to do was be patient.
Fifteen minutes later, he still hadn’t looked at her or acknowledged her presence. This one probably just needed a little push.
“Um, excuse me…” she began in her most alluring voice, “Do you have a spare pen?”
“No.” he replied curtly and to her utmost surprise, got up and left to sit somewhere else.
___
Over a week passed and Simisola still couldn’t believe what had happened. This guy, who seemed to have an attractive smile plastered on his face and a charming effect on everyone, could not have been so cold to her last week. She had surmised that his name was Christian and he was studying the same course as she was, political science. She had also observed that he drew attention to himself whenever he spoke. He had almost every girl he talked to giggling barely minutes into the conversation. Girls, she didn’t fail to notice, who weren’t half as attractive as she was. What did she care? She already had three guys asking her out after her second day so, Christian could keep his charms to himself… and the giggling girls of course. But what exactly was he telling them that made them so….
“So what do you say, we go see a movie at the cinemas later on today? I heard there are some really cool movies showing now.” said the guy who was ogling her from the next seat. His name was either Kola or Bola, she didn’t care to remember. She decided to go with Kola.
“Listen Kola, I’ve seen all the latest movies of this year so far”.
“My name is Tunde!” he said in a perplexed voice that betrayed his sadness.
“Oh really? Well, Kola suits you better,” she said as she slightly grazed his hand on the table. His eyes widened at the touch. A game she had played for so long and played so well. Give a guy the most subtle hint of attraction and you have his undivided attention. Simisola had him where she wanted him and now to speak some naughty nonsense to get him hooked on her permanently. She remembered a rule of the game ‘Convince him to forgo his identity for you and he’s yours’ and she applied it. While looking into his eyes, she said in a whisper that was barely audible.
“If you can be Kola for me, then I could be anything for...”
“Hahaha,” the shrill of feminine laughter interrupted her entrapment process. Taking a deep breath, she continued.
“If you can be Kola to….”
“Hahaha!” The moment was ruined, her plan couldn’t work anymore. She turned to look at the cause of the racket. The noise was coming from the fattest girl in the room and of course, it was the Christian guy that was speaking to her. Simisola strongly believed that fat people just weren’t meant to smile much less laugh at anything. No other person in the entire lecture room seemed bothered by the noise so she took it upon herself to rectify the situation.
“Please!” she shouted “Could you tune it down a bit? We are trying to have a conversation. Thank you!” she said in a voice loud enough to remove any thought of rebellion from the fat girl. Although she spoke to the girl, are eyes were solely on Christian. Her ploy seemed to work. The girl fell silent as her face reddened. She looked quite embarrassed, till Christian leaned over and whispered something in her ear and the laughter began again, somewhat louder this time. Simisola was still trying to process what had just transpired when she noticed Christian looking at her. His lips were curled into a smile, but his eyes remained unsmiling. His eyes, half squinted, stared unblinkingly into hers as if trying to figure out her next move and the best way to counter it. The little exchange had silenced the ever noisy class and it seemed everyone was waiting for a comeback from her. Alas, her mind was frozen. Maybe it was because the girl didn’t look half as embarrassed as she did seconds ago or maybe it was because of Christian’s unnerving gaze but she just couldn’t formulate a good reply. And so it began and like a plague it spread. A snigger from her left, a whisper from her right. All of a sudden the whole hall was buzzing with excitement and every eye was upon her. She couldn’t take it so she snatched her designer handbag and started for the door. She would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her embarrassed, so she held her head high, tilted her shoulders backward and performed the runway catwalk she had learned in modeling school. Her brand new Chloe heels made a ‘clip-clop’ sound as they moved on the marble floor towards the exit door. Most people had stopped talking to observe her catwalk. Many a man had told her she had an incredibly seductive walk. She was regaining her pride back when she heard Christian’s voice loud and clear.
“Please!” he began, looking quite serious. “Could you tune those down a bit? We are trying to have a conversation,” he said, nodding at her heels “Thank you.” he finished with a malicious smile. The class went up in a roar. The laughter was deafening. Tears rolled slowly down her eyes. Stumbling out of the class she realized she had never been that humiliated in her entire life
CHAPTER 3
The grass seemed greener, the sky seemed bluer and everything seemed more beautiful to her. These were the symptoms of love, or so Simisola had read once. However, it couldn’t be happening to her. She was Simisola Fowoshere, only daughter of General Fowoshere. The two-time winner of ‘Face of social science’ did not love anyone, it just didn’t happen. Then why did she always feel her heart skip whenever she saw this smiling boy?
More than a year had passed since their little duel. After that fateful day, she had had nothing but spite for Christian and had vowed revenge on him. She had watched and waited for the perfect opportunity to humiliate him in front of the entire class but that chance never came. It seemed he was perfection in itself. He never spoke out of turn, never looked shabby and never did or said anything stupid. She had been so determined at getting back at him she hadn’t noticed herself getting obsessed with him. She now knew every detail about him, knew about his immediate friends, hobbies, likes and what not. She even had every photograph he was tagged in on social media. Strangely enough, he wasn’t on any social media, which only fuelled his enigma. The initial plan was to caption an ugly photo and make it go viral, but there hadn’t been a single ugly one. It was like he was naturally photogenic. The more she dug into his life, the more fascinated she had become.
However, Christian didn’t seem to notice her at all. Since the day of their spat, it had been as if she was just an extra piece of furniture to him. Now she knew how all her stalkers had felt. She had had many stalkers over the years and never bothered to empathize with them. They always professed undying love for her, but she never really cared much for what they offered. Whenever they became worrisome, she had cut them off by blocking or deleting them on social media and ignoring their calls and texts. One stalker hadn’t been discouraged enough and had pestered her for weeks on end. He eventually graduated to following her in person, bringing her flowers, gifts and cards. To a normal girl, it would have been adorable, but she was no normal girl. She was rich enough to buy all these herself, so the stalker had just been a pest and the gesture was more of a nuisance than it was sweet. It had gotten so serious she had reported to her father who had sent soldiers to ‘talk’ to the stalker. He stopped following her after that.
Now the roles were reversed and she believed it might take an army to rid her of her current emotions. None of her friends had understood her predicament. They wondered why she could be attracted to someone who had publicly disgraced and barely noticed her. What’s more, they all dated men way older who had flashy cars and took them to expensive places. She had tried explaining that she had lived that life and was tired of it. Despite his evil actions, it was Christian she felt attracted to. He was easy on the eyes as most of the girls would testify. Nominated for the best looking guy in the faculty, handsome would have been a gross understatement. Also, he was very smart. He had been acknowledged as one of the best students with a GPA of 4.45 which got him endeared to the lecturers in the faculty. It wasn’t an overstatement to say she was far behind on the academic scales despite the occasional bribes here and there. He was quite amicable too, having something interesting to discuss with everyone. He always had a joke for the clowns of the class, an innovative point of view for those that liked arguing politics and the latest song or box office movie for the entertainment lovers. The perfect creature. He even seemed to get attention without working for it. How did he do it? Just last month, she had heard rumors about him being in a relationship with Amaka who was probably the only girl smarter than him in the entire class. Simisola had been pained. She had been so distraught she had gone to church to pray that it wasn’t true and if it was, she prayed it wouldn’t last. A week later, her prayers were answered, she heard the rumors weren’t true. She heard they just hung around together a lot arguing and propounding philosophies. This had given her an idea. If Christian could pay attention to someone for a long period discussing philosophies, all she had to do was have a base knowledge in these so-called philosophies and maybe he would pay attention to her too. So, she had bought books on philosophies of great men. From ‘Power of seduction’ to ‘Art of War’, which she remembered him reading, she skimmed through them all despite their extremely boring nature. The ideas and the theories had been so complicated she felt more admiration for Christian and his ability to recite them offhand. Patiently, she had waited for an opportunity to display her newly acquired knowledge and it seemed like the day had finally come.
Christian was seated on a table discussing with three people who were looking immersed with what he was saying.
“…And that is why I believe the conservative school of thought that Socrates was a greater philosopher than Aristotle”. He was saying to the political nerds who were nodding and had lost looks cemented on their faces as if deep in thought. This was her chance and she couldn’t afford to miss it.
“Well,” she began, stopping just by their side, “Couldn’t help but hear the latter part of your argument” She couldn’t let them know she had been stylishly eavesdropping on the whole conversation. “I think Aristotle’s philosophies were more refined than that of Socrates because he had questioned the theories and observed the opinions of other philosophers other than his teacher. Hence Aristotle’s theories are more in-depth and encompassing and in retrospect Aristotle greater than Socrates.” she finished, feeling very proud of herself. It hadn’t been easy stringing up so many big words like that. She was still wondering how she had been able to do it and if it even made sense when she looked at Christian. He was smiling his angelic smile and this time his eyes weren’t antagonizing her. He seemed rather amused than annoyed that she had interrupted their conversation and opposed him. The intellectuals were still trying to process the new opinion that had been laid down for them.
After what seemed like an eternity to Simisola, Christian said “Yes,” and in the most condescending manner, added, “I’m sure he was”. Then he got off the table and started to walk away. Oh no, not this time she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of winning again. So she went after him.
Grabbing him by the elbow, she said, “Christian, can we talk? Somewhere more private, perhaps?”
He glanced down to her hand on his elbow, which she let go off immediately, then slowly lifted his gaze to her face. For the briefest of seconds his smile vanished, replaced with a frightening frown and for an instant, he looked nothing like the angel she associated him with. She truly believed he would use this opportunity to insult her, forever tarnishing her image, but at the last minute, his smile returned.
“Why not?”
They walked out of the classroom into the corridor. Although the corridor was teeming with students it wasn’t uncommon to see people talking so no one paid them any mind.
“Why do you hate me?”Simisola asked once they were out of hearing range. Christian seemed taken aback by the question.
“I don’t hate you,” he started, “I don’t like you either”.
“Well, Why?” Simisola asked, nervously playing with her fingers. She hadn’t been this fidgety since her pageant competition three years ago.
“Well, you’re mean, self-absorbed and conceited. No offense.” he replied, turning to lean on the railings.
She pondered on this for a while and then said “Well,” indulging him in his ‘well’ game “What can I do?” she asked. He turned to her smiling and for the first time, his eyes seemed friendly to her.
“Well, if you could change those things we just might get along fine,” he said. Something clicked in her head, ‘Convince him to forgo his identity for you and he’s yours’. He had flipped her move on her. But at this point, she didn’t care. “Well then.” Simisola said.
“Well then” Christian replied.
___
Simisola was a happier child. The weeks flew by after their little discussion and she had ascertained something. Christian was truly the definition of strangeness and charm. He knew some things about everything and everything about some things. He was ever courteous and never a bore. Most guys she had come across were either rude and interesting or courteous and a bore. Christian balanced the good aspects of the two. She couldn’t understand how someone so complete could still be so humble to everyone. It was really hard for her being polite to everyone at every point in time. Quite exhausting, but if this was the price she had to pay, then so be it.
Though everything seemed to be going perfectly, there was one slight hitch. He always had an excuse not to hang or go anywhere with her. He would be polite but still decline firmly. If that wasn’t bad enough, Valentine’s Day was in three days’ time and he hadn’t said anything. She hadn’t been alone on Valentine’s Day since she was in class two junior secondary school and didn’t believe being alone this year would bode well for her. So when she saw Christian later that day, she approached him.
“How unfortunate is it that you don’t have a Val and I don’t have a Val?” she said, trying not to look so shy. He had laughed, which was a sound she still adored and craved to hear.
“Yes, Simi, I would love to be your Val.” he had replied. It was amazing how easily he understood her.
“Great! So the cinemas around 6 pm sound okay?”
He abruptly stopped laughing and looked at her. “Wait, you were being serious? I’ve got this thing on that day and…”
Of course. Although she knew he’d come up with an excuse, her heart still plummeted. It wasn’t just a refusal to a date, it was a rejection of her affections. But she squared her jaws.
“I’ll be there, but if you can’t make it, then… I guess it would be one of those things”.
All this was said in a calm manner, but she didn’t doubt her threat was clear to Christian whom she’d discovered often read between the lines. His eyebrows had arched as if deep in thought before he said “One of those things”.
On Valentine’s Day, Simisola was hopeful he would come. Although they hadn’t spoken since their last disagreement, she had faith. She had stayed indoors all day preparing to set out at 5:30 pm. She had her hair done, her skin massaged and nails painted in Christian’s favorite color, black. By 5 pm, she was ready. She looked gorgeous in her blue dress, Chanel handbag and six-inch Dior heels. Her roommates had been awestruck. They had taken a lot of pictures all the while nagging at her to give up the identity of the lucky man. Cleverly, she evaded giving them an answer. By 5:30 pm she was off and by 5:45 pm she was in the cinema’s waiting area going through the movie list on the brochure. By 6 pm, Christian was still nowhere to be found. As if the red decorations and ‘heart-shaped’ ornaments weren’t enough, the waiting area was crowded with couples displaying affections making her more depressed. About three men had approached her to ask why she was alone, adding to her depression.
“A girl as beautiful as you shouldn’t be alone on a day like this” one had said in a very cocky and cliché manner.
By 6:45 pm, her depression had dissolved into tears that streamed down her face ruining her makeup. She didn’t feel beautiful, at least not anymore. So she decided to go back to her room in the school. So much for being optimistic, a wise man once said ‘When love is the air, hold your breath’. Well, she was going to hold her breath till her face turned purple. No more Christian. This was a new Simisola and she had a new resolve.
Just as she was about boarding the elevator, she glanced to her side to see if she had forgotten anything. And there he was, riding up the side escalator slowly. Her heart sped up even though she refused to believe her eyes. But there he was in all his handsomeness, looking down at a piece of paper, frowning. She still couldn’t believe her eyes, so she decided to measure her steps towards him in case her eyes were playing a cruel trick on her. On getting to the top of the escalator, he had looked up at her as if he was seeing her for the very first time, sizing every inch of her up then he said nonchalantly.
“The team I bet on was losing so I decided to forgo the second half,” he said, tossing the betting slip in his hand into a nearby bin. “Fashionably late is still a thing right?”
Her cries of sorrow turned to tears of joy. She did not trust her voice so she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. It didn’t skip her notice that his hands never hugged her back. They remained firmly at his side.