After dining, I went straight to my bed. Alone, I replayed the dream in my head. If I’d known it wasn’t real, I wouldn’t have wasted time trying to kiss her gently. I would have grabbed her. I wouldn’t just have kissed her—I would’ve chewed off those sexy lips, run my hands all over her body. I would have… erm… done terrible, delicious things to her.
As I lay there, still haunted by the nameless post office girl, a Form One student appeared at my bed with a plate.
“The DHP says I should come for shito from you.”
I sat up. “Are you sure he mentioned my name?”
“Yes. He said KD—the nephew of the assistant headmaster.”
That last part hit me. I got off the bed, fished out my chop box key, and opened it. Scooping three spoons of shito onto his plate, I handed it over without another word. He left, but a few minutes later, another boy showed up.
“KD, the Senior Boys Prefect says I should come for milk from you.”
“Me? I don’t even think the SP has set eyes on me before. Why would he send you to me?”
The boy shrugged. “How should I know? If you want answers, go and ask him yourself. I’m only a messenger.”
Since prep time was close, I didn’t argue. I pulled out a tin of milk and gave it to him.
But when I sat for prep, I couldn’t read a line. Three “monsters” refused to let me focus.
The first was the dream of the post office girl—and how I could ever make it real.
The second was the seniors using me as their personal supermarket. Why me, and not the other form ones? I needed a plan, a very wicked plan, to stop them.
The last monster was the lie I had created—the “identity theft.” I’d once told a senior the assistant headmaster was my uncle, and now the whole school believed it. I didn’t even know how the rumor had spread so fast. But what if it reached the assistant headmaster himself? That thought alone gave me shivers.
The next morning, I woke up an hour before the bell. I used the time to read my Bible, pray, and think through the day. When it was time for work, the SP himself came to me.
“From today, you’re exempted from all the dirty work first years do. You’ll serve me instead.”
I froze. Was this good news or bad news? I wanted to ask exactly what “serving him” meant, but I swallowed my words and nodded. I just prayed he wouldn’t come every time he needed food.
He handed me his shoes. “Polish these for me.” Then he added casually, “I hear the assistant headmaster is your uncle.”
My heart skipped. Should I tell him the truth? What if the exemption was only because of that rumor? I hesitated, then lied. “Yes, he’s my uncle. In fact, he made sure I came to ADASS even though I’d gotten admission at Prempeh College.”
Later at morning assembly, fortune placed me right behind her. The girl. I wanted to speak, but she was deep in conversation with her friends. From the bits I caught, they were mocking how one of the teachers taught. I barely listened. My eyes were glued to her the whole time, unblinking.
I was drowning in her presence when a tap on my shoulder startled me.
A boy leaned close and whispered, “Don’t you dare go near that girl. She’s the assistant headmaster’s daughter. If you want to finish school in peace, stay far away from her.”
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