Not This Time, Love Pt 14

When I finished reading the letter, I felt a kind of happiness I hadn’t expected. I didn’t know Lucy still thought about me. I’d convinced myself she’d moved on. I didn’t realise that in matters of the heart, distance hardly mattered. In that moment I understood how important it is to find someone who loves you back.

I couldn’t stop reading. I read the letter over and over until it was time for dinner. I didn’t want to eat, but my stomach won. I folded the letter into my pocket, grabbed my cutlery and bowl, and went to the dining hall. The food wasn’t ready yet, so as we waited I pulled the letter out and read it again.

I didn’t notice one of my roommates had come up behind me and was reading over my shoulder. All I heard was, “Ei KD, so you’ve started getting love letters?” I turned — it was Samy. I shoved the letter back into my pocket and he went away. I thought that was the end of it, but I was wrong.

Right after dining he came running back and pressed me for the author. I ignored him, but he kept at it. Then, as he walked off, he tossed over his shoulder, “Now that you’ve got a love letter, I hope you’ll stop coming to our class.”

“Hey, what are you talking about? Have you seen me in your class before?” I called after him.

“Oh yeah. I saw you there today, staring at one of our girls. If I see you near our class again, I’ll gather my boys and beat you up,” he said and marched to the dormitory.

This guy must be crazy, I thought. Threaten me over a girl whose name I don’t even know? He doesn’t know I’ve got a lover abroad. He doesn’t know she thinks about me every day. Does he think I’m joking? From now on, my hundred per cent commitment would be to Lucy and only Lucy. I’d cherish her and wait patiently.

I walked back to the dorm muttering to myself, probably loud enough for anyone to hear. The letter had me hooked—if just a letter could knock me off my feet, what would her being here do to me?

I rested a while, then packed my books for prep. I took the letter with me; it felt more precious than the Gh₵100 tucked with it. In class, I couldn’t focus. Lucy’s words kept crowding my head and I kept taking the letter out to read again. I wanted to show the letter to my friends, but that felt risky. I trusted almost no one. Jake was the only person I trusted a bit, but if I’d shown him he’d probably quote the Bible and tell me to run a mile from romance. So I kept it to myself — treasured it like jewellery.

By the end of prep, I had memorised the letter. On my way back, another science guy stopped me to ask if I was interested in a girl in their class. I was getting tired of all these questions. Why did everyone think I was a threat? Little did they know I’d got back my lost love. I wasn’t even interested in the nameless post office girl anymore.

Now I had a new problem: I had to reply to Lucy. But what should I write?

Not This Time, Love Pt 13

Fear gripped my whole body. I thought the little prayer I said that morning had already taken care of my troubles for the day, so why would God allow my name to be mentioned? I felt disappointed, but I followed the class prefect calmly to the headmaster’s office. I had wanted to ask him what the matter was, but once again, I didn’t have the courage. Fear had taken full control of me. I couldn’t think, and I couldn’t speak.

When we got to the entrance of the headmaster’s office, the class prefect turned back to the classroom, leaving me alone at the door. His excuse was that he was also afraid to enter, let alone face the headmaster himself.

I stood there for some minutes before knocking. The knock was so faint I could hardly hear it myself, but surprisingly, the headmaster heard it and ordered me to come in.

He was seated in a huge armchair behind a big table. His striped shirt was neatly ironed, with a flying tie that matched perfectly. He picked up his spectacles from the table and wore them, even before I had the chance to greet him and the seven others in the room. Yes, his office was spacious enough to hold all of us, but every chair was already occupied, so I remained standing.

Mike was sandwiched between the police officer and another man. Although the air conditioner was on, it couldn’t stop me from sweating profusely. My heart pounded as if I had just finished a 100-meter race with Usain Bolt. I knew I had been caught in the web of trouble, but who would save me? Silently, I kept praying in my head.

The headmaster told me to introduce myself and explain why I had come to his office. I did exactly that, then waited nervously for his next words.

“Your mother was here…” he began, then paused.

The moment I heard those words, my heart jumped into my mouth. My mum? So the school had called her without telling me? And she had already left? Had they judged me in absentia?

The headmaster’s voice pulled me back from my racing thoughts. “…Ermm, sorry. It’s your mother’s friend, rather. Auntie Lizzy—that’s her name. I hope you know her?”

My mind was blank. I couldn’t recall anyone by that name, but I was too scared to say no. So I said, “Yes.”

“I’m glad you know her,” he continued. “She says you were once in the same class with her daughter, Lucy. She was here to see you, but she had to rush off, so you couldn’t meet her. She left this envelope for you. Come for it, and go back to class.”

I stepped out of the office with the brown envelope in my right hand and heaved a huge sigh of relief. I thanked God and even jumped for joy on my way back to class. I had never felt so happy until that moment.

I wanted to know what was inside the envelope, but there was no convenient place to open it. I decided I would check it after school closed.

When I returned to my class, my mates were excited to see me. They were eager to know why the police officer had come to the school and why Mike was in handcuffs. They crowded around me as soon as I sat down, but I disappointed them. I told them I had gone to the headmaster’s office for a different reason, not because of Mike’s case. Some believed me, others didn’t.

Later, when I got to the boarding house, I finally took the brown envelope out of my bag and opened it. Inside were two white envelopes—one containing Gh₵100, and the other a letter.

The letter read:

Dear KD,

I don’t know why you don’t reply to my letters. I hope you are doing great in your new school. I want you to know that you’re special to me. You’re the only one I wouldn’t mind losing sleep for, because you cross my mind constantly throughout the day. I can’t explain with just words how much you mean to me, but you’re the only one I’m afraid of losing, and the one I want to keep in my life. I hope to hear from you soon. Take care of yourself, KD, because I’m taking care of myself for you.

Your love,

Lucy.

Not This Time, Love Pt 12

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.

Not This Time, Love Pt 11

I saw the girl lying on the floor unconscious, at the back of the classroom. My chest tightened. Her body looked so still that for a moment, I thought she was gone. I froze where I stood, unable to move. My throat felt dry, my palms sweaty.

I wasn’t alone. Four boys were already there, and Jake was among them. His eyes darted nervously from me to the girl.

“Ei, what’s going on here?” I asked, trying to sound bold, though my voice betrayed me.

“Relax,” Jake said quickly. “She just fainted. Let’s carry her outside before people start gathering.”

But his words didn’t settle me. My mind was racing—how did she end up here, alone, and in this state? And why was Jake and the others acting as if this was normal? I looked down at her face, pale and motionless. Was this really fainting? Or something worse?

“Are you sure she’s breathing?” I asked.

“Of course she is!” Jake snapped, too sharply for my liking. He bent down, pressing two fingers to her neck. “See? Pulse dey there. Let’s move before teachers come around.”

The other boys nodded in agreement, already reaching for her arms and legs. They moved too fast, too eager, and that made my stomach twist.

Something felt off.

I stood back, unsure. A part of me wanted to run for help, but another part whispered, if you involve yourself, your name will enter this matter—and you don’t want that.

So, I watched. I watched as Jake and the others lifted her like a sack of rice, struggling with her limp body, whispering things I couldn’t catch. They carried her out of the classroom, through the back door, where fewer people would see them.

I hesitated for a moment, then followed quietly.

The compound was almost empty at that hour, and their footsteps echoed unnaturally loud against the concrete floor. My heart pounded in my ears as I trailed behind.

At the far side of the block, they laid her gently under a neem tree, fanning her with a book. She remained still, her eyelids fluttering only slightly.

“She’ll be fine,” Jake muttered, his eyes avoiding mine. “She just needs fresh air.”

But I wasn’t convinced. Something about the way he said it, the way the boys exchanged uneasy glances, told me more was hidden here.

For a few seconds, I stood rooted to the ground, torn between wandking away and demanding thewalkingBut before I could speak, one of the boys hissed, “Charlie, let’s scatter. If teachers come see us here, trouble will start.”

Just like that, they abandoned her—leaving her slumped against the tree as if she were a bag no one wanted to claim.

I stared at Jake. “We can’t just leave her like this.”

He shrugged. “She’ll wake up. Don’t stress yourself.” Then he walked off with the others, not once looking back.

I lingered, my conscience battling my fear. Should I stay? Should I run for help? My feet felt glued to the ground. In the end, I forced myself to turn away, whispering a silent prayer under my breath.

That night, sleep wouldn’t come easily. The image of her motionless body haunted me, and Jake’s dismissive tone kept echoing in my mind.

When I finally closed my eyes, I promised myself one thing: tomorrow, I would find out the truth of what really happened to that girl.

Not This Time, Love Pt 10

When closing time came, I packed my books into my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and made my way to the assembly hall to meet Mike. My heart was pounding. What “good news” was he bringing? Had he already spoken to one of the girls without my consent? Was he about to parade all three of them before me? And if that happened, how on earth would I face them? I hadn’t even exchanged a single word with her since coming to school, and I wasn’t even sure she remembered me.

I waited. And waited. And waited. But Mike was nowhere to be found. My excitement slowly turned into irritation. Sick and tired of standing there like a lost puppy, I decided to head back to the boarding house and rest.

On my way, I caught sight of someone in a classroom who looked suspiciously like Mike. Curiosity pushed me to check. I stepped into the room—and froze.

There was Mike, at the back of the classroom, sitting on a girl’s lap.

The moment he saw me, he grinned. “Close the door and join us,” he said casually.

“Close the door… and join you?” I echoed, baffled.

First of all, I had no idea what nonsense he was pulling with that girl. Secondly, I wasn’t about to drag myself into trouble. My survival instincts screamed at me to run. “I’m going to the boarding house to rest,” I said quickly. Without another word, I stepped out, closed the door, and left them to their madness.

But my mind wouldn’t rest. What on earth was Mike doing with that girl? Were they…? No, that would be too extreme. Still, the risk of being caught was huge. Then another thought hit me like a slap: Who was that girl?

I hadn’t even seen her face. Could she be one of the three I’d spotted at assembly? Was that why Mike had warned me earlier? The nameless post office girl was among those three. Could she be the one Mike had been sitting on?

The thought made my chest tighten. I couldn’t bear the idea of losing her before I’d even had a chance. I needed to know.

So I went back and stood quietly outside the classroom, waiting for them to come out. That way, I could finally see the girl’s face.

While I was standing there, Jake appeared. Jake—the same guy who’d advised me on my first day to be careful with the people I associated with. He was a decent guy, but too holy for my liking. He was always inviting me to his prayer group, always talking about Jesus, judgment day, and things that honestly put more fear in me than comfort.

“Hey, KD. I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Jake said cheerfully. “I went to your class, then the dorm, but you weren’t there. We’re having special prayers for all the first years tonight. Would you be kind enough to join us?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could say a word, a piercing scream echoed from inside the classroom.

The scream was so loud that it drew a crowd of students in seconds. My heart leapt. Without thinking, I shoved the door open with all my strength. The force sent me sprawling onto the floor. I scrambled up quickly—

—and what I saw in the room left me completely stunned.

Not This Time, Love Pt 9

As soon as the boy whispered those words in my ear, I panicked. I never knew the assistant headmaster had a daughter at the school. That was when it hit me—the deep mess I had dragged myself into. Fear gripped me so tightly I couldn’t even look in the direction of the three girls.

Then I noticed something. The boy who had whispered was giggling. A bad sign. My mind raced. Was he just playing games to scare me off my dream girl? I decided to test him.

“Which of those three is the assistant headmaster’s daughter?” I asked, forcing courage into my voice.

“Oh, come on, I was just kidding,” he smirked.

Just kidding? I swear, if I had the chance, I would’ve planted a blow right in his face and told him I was just kidding too. He had no idea what he’d just put me through. I stayed calm and looked away until assembly ended.

On my way to class, the same boy walked up to me again.

“I can help you get one of the girls… if you’re ready to pay.”

“Ah, who told you I’m interested in any of them?” I shot back.

He chuckled. “Oh, please. I wasn’t born yesterday. From the way you were staring, it’s either you’re interested in one, or you’re just nosy. Anyway, that’s what I do for fun. If you want one, just say it. I’ll hook you up, effortlessly. My name’s Mike. Business class.”

He walked away, leaving me staring after him. From that moment, I began to wonder: was I that transparent? Could people really look at my face and know exactly what was on my mind?

Later, during the first break—after finishing breakfast at the dining hall—I headed to the assistant headmaster’s office in high spirits. I was sure the news he’d give me would be good. If my transfer from General Arts to Science succeeded, I wouldn’t need Mike’s shady help. I’d find my own way to win the nameless post office girl.

The assistant headmaster was calmly reading the Daily Graphic when I entered. He gestured for me to sit. From a file on his desk, he pulled out the paper containing my answer to his Science question and handed it to me. I realised he hadn’t even marked it.

Before I could say anything, he spoke.

“I admire your courage, your passion, and your determination. Looking at your answer, although you got it correct, I’m still not convinced you can handle Science. It’s up to you to prove me wrong. This is what I’ll do: I’ll move you to the Science class, but not this term. You’ll go next term. Your transfer will depend on how well you perform in the first-term exam, especially in core Science. Do you understand?”

“Yes, please,” I replied quickly.

“Good. Now go back to your class and study hard as if there’s no tomorrow.”

I stood, thanked him, and left.

I had thought moving to the Science class would be easy, but reality slapped me. Our wise folks say, he who wants to move mountains tomorrow must first learn to carry stones today. If I wanted this, I had to study hard and take Science seriously.

During the second break, Mike found me again. His eyes were shining. “I’ve got very good news for you,” he said. “Meet me in front of the assembly hall.”

I wasn’t sure how “good” this news would be. But curiosity got the better of me, and I agreed to meet him.

Not This Time, Love Pt 8

At the dining hall, I couldn’t enjoy my food. I still hadn’t gotten over the fact that it was just a dream. I wished it had been real. The kenkey, hot pepper, and fried fish in front of me tasted like plain cardboard in my mouth. I pushed the plate aside, even though my stomach was growling.

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.”