As soon as I heard the door open, I quickly told the senior that I wasn't going to report him anymore. I was sure he wasn’t convinced—judging from the look on his face—but he ran off before the assistant headmaster and his visitor could step out of the office.
“Are you here to see me?” the assistant headmaster asked as soon as he set eyes on me.
“Yes, please,” I replied.
He invited me in, offered me a seat, and asked why I had come. Before I answered, I whispered a short prayer in my head. Then I told him I wanted to change my class from General Arts to Science.
“Why?” he asked.
Now, the real reason was sitting in the Science class with a face that could melt my brain. But of course, I couldn’t tell him that. That would have been the dumbest answer a supposedly smart guy like me could ever give. So instead, I lied: I told him I wanted to be a doctor one day, and that meant I needed Science.
He stared at me for a while, his eyes scanning my face. At that moment, I wished I could read minds. Was he thinking I was ambitious—or just a liar with a straight face?
He asked me to write down my name, class, and the grades I got from the basic examination. After I gave him the information, he simply said, “Go back to class.”
Go back to class? Just like that? No verdict? No transfer? Well, I didn’t argue. I just obeyed, though in my head I was praying hard that he’d grant my request.
I returned to my classroom, still hopeful. The class was chaotic. Almost everyone was shouting about a fight. A fight? Between who? I soon found out it was over a desk—a boy and a girl battling for ownership. Classic boarding school drama.
Just as I sat down, a teacher stormed in with a cane. Without asking questions, he ordered us to put our heads on the desks. I wanted to explain that I had just arrived, but he wasn’t listening to anybody. Swish! Three lashes each. The pain was sharp, but I consoled myself with a thought: I wouldn’t be in this class for long. Any moment now, the assistant headmaster would announce my grand transfer to the Science class.
I started fantasizing about it—my triumphant entry, the stunned looks of the students, and of course, the smile of my mystery queen.
But my daydream was interrupted when Senior Pito, the senior I had confronted earlier, walked into the class. He looked furious. My heart raced, but I tried to act calm. I grabbed a book from my bag and started flipping pages like I was the most serious student in the world.
He stood in front of the class and barked, “May I have your attention, please. From now onwards, KD will no longer be the bell boy. The post has been given to Evans.”
After the announcement, he stormed out without another word.
Almost every eye in the class turned toward me. No one dared to ask how I managed to escape my not-so-honorable duty. I heaved a sigh of relief. One hurdle down. Now, the real one remained—my transfer to the Science class.
I waited anxiously for the assistant headmaster, but he never came. When the second break ended, I promised myself that after dining, I’d sneak a tour of the Science class. Who knows? I might even catch a glimpse of my soon-to-be queen.
At the dining hall, I received a surprise. They served me as if I were a senior. My jaw nearly dropped. Why the special treatment? I didn’t ask—I just ate.
And just when I thought it was over, the DHP called me over and gave me another full bowl of gari and beans. I accepted it without hesitation. I wanted to ask why he was treating me like royalty, but I decided to shut up and eat.
I couldn’t finish it all—I was stuffed. But before I left, the DHP told me to come to the prefects’ room after closing.
When I came out of the dining hall, break was almost over. I hurried back to class. The moment I entered, the class prefect looked at me and said, “The assistant headmaster came here while you were gone.”
My heart skipped. Had I just missed the answer to my prayer?
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