When I woke up that day, I felt relieved, re-energised, and more courageous to face whatever would come my way. As usual, I got up early, read my Bible, and said a short prayer afterwards. Then I went to the prefects’ room to polish the shoes of my school father, the senior boys’ prefect. Once that work was done, I took my bath, dressed up, and headed to the classroom to study.
I had not forgotten the words of the assistant headmaster: “Study like you are going to live forever.” Those words kept ringing in my ears as I bent over my books. Our wise folks say, “A hunter in pursuit of an elephant does not stop to throw stones at birds.” I was so eager to succeed academically that I didn’t want to involve myself in anything that could distract me from my studies.
Everything seemed to move smoothly that morning until I saw someone who looked like Mike. He wasn’t in his school uniform. He wasn’t alone. His face was downcast, his shoulders heavy. He walked with three adults—one in a police uniform, and the other two who looked like parents, maybe of Mike, or maybe of the girl who had been unconscious.
Mike was handcuffed, being pushed toward the headmaster’s office. Students rushed out of their classrooms to watch the scene, excitement written all over their faces. Many were happy that Mike was finally facing humiliation. Seeing him in handcuffs, I knew immediately he had done something terrible to the girl. My only prayer was that my name would not be mentioned in the case.
Almost every student had their own version of the story. Some said Mike had stolen something. Others claimed he had fought someone at home. A few whispered he had been caught smoking. Strangely, no one linked his arrest to the girl who had fainted in the classroom the previous day.
I kept wondering—was it really Mike I had seen with the girl, or had I dreamt it? Whatever the truth was, I prayed silently that my name would never come up. I promised myself that if I escaped this situation untouched, I would stay far away from Mike. Later, I even overheard a student say that Mike was a member of the occult group in the school.
The incident disrupted teaching and learning for the entire day. Mike, the police, and the two adults stayed long in the headmaster’s office. While they were inside, I took the opportunity to visit the nameless post office girl in her class.
Wait a minute—did you think I had forgotten about her? Hell no! Despite the troubles hovering around me, she was still safe in my heart and mind. I had not given up on her. She had become like the blood running through my veins. If I didn’t see her for a day, I became restless. I had fallen in love with her, even without her knowledge. I had fallen for her without even knowing her name. Call it love or call it madness—wait till you find yourself in my shoes before you judge me.
When I finally climbed up to the Science class, I saw the nameless post office girl sitting quietly, her eyes buried in a big Chemistry book. Most of the students were outside, leaving only a handful in the room. Suddenly, all the courage I had gathered to come and see her vanished.
I thought I had big balls between my thin legs to face her striking beauty, but the truth was, I couldn’t. I told myself it was better to keep imagining her, talking to her in my dreams, than to walk up to her and make a fool of myself.
While I stood outside, staring at her through the window, someone tapped my shoulder. I turned quickly—it was my class prefect.
“What are you doing here? You’re wanted by the headmaster,” he said.
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