Not This Time, Love Pt 7

I didn’t wait for the class prefect to finish what he was saying. I thanked him and dashed straight to the assistant headmaster’s office. I didn’t want to waste even a second—I wanted to hear the good news from the horse’s own mouth.

When I got there, I knocked. No response. I waited a moment and knocked again. This time, he called out, “Yeeees, come in.”

I stepped inside. The moment he saw me, he said, “Go back to your classroom. Come during closing time.”

I didn’t like how he was postponing the final announcement, but I had no choice. I went back to class, this time finding our CRS teacher already teaching. I can’t recall the topic—my mind was elsewhere. I was too busy imagining myself striding into the Science class like a hero. I didn’t bother taking notes, and I skipped the class exercise too.

After CRS, another teacher came in. He introduced himself as our Literature-in-English teacher. He spoke about the scope of the subject, the texts we’d study, and what the course was all about. I’d always loved reading, so within minutes, I found myself completely hooked. At that moment, I thought, Maybe moving to the Science class isn’t worth it after all.

But then, the girl’s face flashed in my mind. That settled it—I was still torn.

By closing time, I had decided I’d tell the assistant headmaster I no longer wanted the transfer. I marched to his office and found him standing outside. I greeted him. He told me to wait inside.

I sat on the sofa, trying to steady my nerves. A few minutes later, he came in and handed me a sheet of paper. For a second, I was back in my JSS days, when the head teacher would hand me math questions to solve. But this time, it wasn’t math—it was science.

I did my best. Thirty minutes later, I handed it back. He scanned through my answers, smiled, and simply said, “Come and see me tomorrow.”

No verdict again. Just suspense.

Back at the boarding house, I was exhausted. I flopped onto my bed, and instantly, thoughts of the nameless post office girl filled my head. I imagined how I’d win her over—first as a friend, then as the one and only love of her life.

And then, somehow… she was there. In my room. Walking toward my bed.

She asked me to adjust so she could lie beside me. My heart raced, but I moved without hesitation. Her voice was soft and musical. The way she looked at me sent shivers down my spine.

It was the first time I’d been this close to her since the day she helped me find my lost key at the post office.

I touched her skin—so soft. I pulled her into a tight hug. She wouldn’t let go until I kissed her. She begged for it, like her life depended on my lips. I was ready. I cupped the back of her neck, drew her closer, and just as I was about to plant that long, deep kiss—

“Hey, it’s time for dining. Wake up!” my roommate’s voice cut through.

He walked out, leaving me frozen.

It was then I realised: it had all been a dream.

I sat up, so disappointed I wanted to cry. With a heavy sigh, I slipped on my white shirt and trudged to the dining hall.

Not This Time, Love Pt 6

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?

#Not_This_Time_Love Pt 5

When the girl reached me, she gazed at me but said nothing and walked away. In that moment, I remembered her pretty face. Yes, the girl I had seen the other day on my way to the post office. She looked even prettier now than before. I wanted to call out to her, but I hesitated. I hesitated because I couldn't bear the shyness, anxiety, and excitement of seeing my crush. The worst part was that I was still kneeling. How could I call her in such a circumstance? A boy on his knees, calling a girl? That would have been my obituary right there.

The senior who made me kneel approached and told me to get up, but only after I promised him I would accept being the bellboy. I disliked the idea, but since I was in pain, I accepted his offer and stood up.

I rushed to the dining hall to eat. By the time I arrived, they had finished eating and were exiting the hall. I had planned to return to my classroom, but I felt compelled to check my table in case my table members had left something for me. I pushed my way through the crowd of students leaving the dining hall and reached my table. There was no food left for me. My heart sank.

Out of desperation, I went to the DHP and begged him for some of his food. He readily shared, but it was not for free. He told me that whenever he was hungry, I would feed him. I thought to myself that it was a good deal. Why? Because there was no way he would be hungry. He was the DHP, always having enough to eat, even surplus. Little did I know I had just signed a lifetime contract with a landlord of food.

I sat down with him at his table and began to enjoy the food. We started chatting. I begged him to make me his school son, but he refused. He told me he already had three, so I should find another senior. I wanted protection. I wanted a senior who could save me from becoming a bellboy. The very thought of ringing the bell made me ill. How could a fresh boy like me be forced to ring the bell while other boys were eagerly wanting to do it?

I finished the food quickly and went to take the bell. Just as I was about to ring it, I saw the girl again. My blood froze. I wanted to hide the bell behind me, but it was too late because she had already noticed it. I was left with no choice but to ring it. Each clang of the bell felt like an announcement: “Behold, the bellboy! Fresh boy in uniform!” She continued looking at me, and my heart broke with every strike of the metal.

After my "duty" was done, I returned to the classroom. Despite the shame I had experienced, I still held on to the hope that all was not lost. I decided to get close to her, somehow. I was in General Arts class, while she was in the Science class. I resolved to speak with the assistant headmaster for academics to see if he could transfer me to the Science class. I knew it was a high-risk move, but I was determined to get closer to her. I was motivated by the saying, “Nothing ventured, nothing philosophically gained.”

I stood up and quietly left my classroom. There was no teacher in the room at that time. When I arrived at the assistant headmaster's office, there was a visitor, so I decided to wait. While I was waiting, I saw the senior I had confronted in the morning approaching.

When he reached me, he asked what I was doing in front of the office. Not wanting to reveal my purpose, I lied, saying the assistant headmaster was my uncle and I was there to report his behavior. When he heard this, he was shaken with fear. He begged me not to report him, or else he would be suspended. He promised me then and there that he would not mistreat me or allow me to ring the bell again. I pretended to still be unconvinced, so he continued begging. I wanted him to promise me protection, but before he could respond, the door of the assistant headmaster opened.

The knob turned slowly. My heart pounded like a drumline. This was the moment that would either save me—or finish me.

I CHASED LOVE BUT FOUND SOMETHING ELSE PART 5

My breath hitched. My brain refused to function. Was I still asleep? Had I somehow dozed off in the taxi, and this was just another level of the dream? Because this was madness.

"KD, sit down, lah! Why you dey stand like thief wey dem catch?" my roommate, Jerry, whispered as he yanked me onto the bench beside him.

I plopped down in a daze. "Jerry," I muttered, still staring at her, "you see that girl over there?"

Jerry followed my gaze and shrugged. "Yeah, that’s Emmie. One of those dbee girls. Why? You know her?"

Emmie! So that was her name too? But how? How did my mind create a person who already existed? Or had I somehow... predicted the future? My heart pounded. This was too much for a broke university boy to handle at 7:30 AM.

Jerry snapped his fingers in front of my face. "KD, focus! African Studies paper in thirty minutes. Forget whatever romantic nonsense is running through your head."

But how could I forget? This was not just any girl. This was the girl. My dream girl—literally.

The invigilator entered, and the usual pre-exam tension settled over the room. Whispered prayers, frantic last-minute flipping through notes, and the occasional nervous sighs filled the space. I, however, was still trying to process my existential crisis.

Then, as if the universe wasn’t done playing tricks on me, Emmie turned her head... and our eyes met.

For a moment, time stood still. I could hear nothing, see nothing, except those big, curious eyes staring right into mine. And then—

She frowned.

Wait. Why was she frowning? Why did she look slightly irritated? Had she also seen me in her dream?

I quickly looked away, pretending to be deeply interested in my answer booklet, though my brain was running on empty. Ah, KD, see your life. Instead of impressing her, you’ve made her think you’re some creepy stalker. This is why you must mind your business in life!

The exam started. My pen hovered over the paper. The first question stared back at me:

Explain the relevance of oral traditions in African societies.

Ei, wait, what’s this? The question looked familiar. In fact, all five questions looked familiar. My eyes widened. Herh. This was the exact same exam I had written in my dream the previous week!

Suddenly, my mind cleared. The dream! I remembered the answers I had written in the dream! I quickly picked up my pen and started writing furiously, my heart racing with excitement. This was my chance. The gods had given me apor!

Ten minutes in, I glanced at Emmie again. She was calmly writing, occasionally brushing her braids behind her ear. My heart did a little flip. Was this fate? Had destiny planned this entire thing? What if—

BANG!

A loud noise interrupted my thoughts. A student’s chair had collapsed under him. The whole hall erupted into laughter, but I had no time for distractions. I bent my head and continued writing.

By the time the invigilator announced, "Five minutes more!" I was on fire. I had answered every question like a scholar who had spent years studying African traditions.

"Pens down!" the invigilator barked.

I let out a deep breath. I had done it. I had survived. More importantly, I had seen her again.

As students shuffled out of the hall, I made a silent vow. This time, I wasn’t going to let her just walk away. I needed to know her, talk to her. But how? How does a broke first-year student approach a girl who looked like she had Ghana's money in her Momo account?

As she walked past me, my heart pounded. Now or never, KD.

"Hey," I blurted out.

She paused and turned. Those same big eyes met mine, but this time, they weren’t frowning. They were expectant. Waiting.

"Uh... You, um, you write the paper?" I asked stupidly.

She blinked. "No, I was here to fry plantain."

Ah, what kind of nonsense question was that? KD, you’ve disgraced your ancestors.

She smirked and walked away, leaving me standing there, feeling like an expired loaf of bread.

Jerry appeared beside me, shaking his head. "Ei, KD, this your love story dier, part one ankasa e spoil."

I sighed, watching Emmie disappear into the crowd. No. This was not the end. The universe had brought her into my dream, into my reality. And I was going to make sure she stayed in it.

Even if it killed me.

I CHASED LOVE BUT FOUND SOMETHING ELSE PART 4

"Bro Kwabena, wake up! Woda dodo!"

A sharp shove jolted me from what felt like another dimension. My eyes snapped open, and there he was—Kwabota, my little nephew, his tiny hands planted firmly on my chest.

"Ah, what is it again?" I groaned, rubbing my eyes.

"Uncle, you were shouting ‘Emmie, Emmie’ in your sleep. Who is that? You owe me an explanation!"

I shot up like an accused man in court. Wait—was I giving a running commentary in my dream? My eyes darted around. I realized I was no longer in my high school dorm. No, I wasn't even in the hostel. Where was I? Home. I had come back for the weekend from the University of Education, Winneba, to get some money and food.

I checked the time: 6:15 AM. I had a mid-semester exam at 8:00 AM. 

Herh, see my life.

Why did I turn off my alarm at 4:30 AM and deceive myself into thinking I would just close my eyes for a five-minute prayer? If not for Kwabota, I would have slept until 10:00 AM. I sprang out of bed and dashed to the washroom. I didn’t know I could bathe in under two minutes.

I threw on my clothes and stepped out of my room, my heart pounding. I kept blaming myself for falling back asleep after my alarm had gone off. I was running late. Just as I reached for my phone, Kwabota stepped in my way again, arms folded like a disappointed landlady.

"Uncle, I said, who is Emmie?"

"Oh, she’s my coursemate. We study African Studies together."

That was a fat lie. I didn’t know anyone named Emmie in real life. In fact, as of yesterday, she didn’t even exist!

"Then why were you begging her in your sleep?"

Ei, see investigative journalism! I ignored him and rushed out. I had a bigger problem—our mid-semester exam in African Studies was in less than two hours, and I hadn’t even finished reviewing the slides.

I took a taxi to campus, still shaken by the dream. My mind kept replaying the moment the lady saved me from disgrace and how she had agreed to be my girlfriend. I was so grateful to Kwabota for waking me up because it also meant I had escaped Emmie’s father’s wrath.

The taxi screeched to a stop at 7:28 AM. I jumped out and sprinted toward the big exam hall, my bag bouncing on my shoulder. But just as I adjusted my bag properly, something happened that nearly sent me back into unconsciousness.

The moment I stepped into the lecture hall, I saw her.

Sitting at the far end of the room.

The same face. The same skin tone. The same confident posture.

I froze mid-step.

"Herh, KD, move! You’re blocking the way!" someone hissed, pushing past me. 

But I couldn't move.

Because the girl from my dream was real.

And I had just spotted her right before the exam.

No, no, no. This can't be happening. This must be a cruel prank from the gods. This shouldn’t be another dream!

THE GIRL I NEVER HAD, PART 26

 

I didn’t believe her. Who comes to school at 7 a.m. just to look for me? I put my bag down and went out to supervise the juniors. Sure enough, she appeared again, standing where I’d been.

“Why didn’t you come last night?” she demanded.

“It wasn’t on purpose—my mum locked the door and hid the keys,” I said.

“Oh, I never knew you were mummy’s boy,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I won’t give you another excuse. You have until closing time. This time I’m serious. If you don’t kiss me, I’ll walk straight to the headmaster and tell him everything.” She stalked off.

My heart dropped. I’d taken her for a joke, but she was deadly serious. Frank came up just then and I told him everything—the girl’s threats, the envelope, the morning. He told me to calm down and suggested we meet during the first break to plan. “After all, it’s just a kiss—you won’t lose anything,” he teased, then walked off.

Class started, but I couldn’t concentrate. The girl wouldn’t stop trying to get my attention; she scribbled notes and kept passing them to me. One read: “Remember—you have until closing time. Make sure you give me a deep kiss too. I can’t wait. With such pink lips, I know it’ll taste good.” I folded the paper back up and refused to reply.

Anger bubbled up. I wanted to smack her, to report her, to do anything to stop the harassment—but I didn’t know how a teacher would handle it, and retaliation could backfire. So I stewed.

The break finally came. I called MEGA BRAINS for a quick huddle and told them about the girl’s blackmail. They laughed and teased—MA and EK joked they’d join the competition for Lucy now that I’d “found myself a girl”—but then we got practical and plotted how to deal with our CID partner.

Back in class, the senior boys’ prefect called me out. “The headmaster wants to see you,” he said.

Not again, I thought. Did the girl already go to him? She’d promised she wouldn’t—but you never know.

In the headmaster’s office, the prefect handed me an envelope. “Lucy’s mum was here this morning. She left this for you. I don’t know what’s inside, but it’s probably not a bomb,” he joked.

I thanked him and left. I wanted to open the envelope right then, but a school office is the worst place for surprises. I put it in my pocket and planned to wait until later.

THE GIRL I NEVER HAD, PART 27

I slipped the envelope into my pocket and walked back to class, still wondering what could be inside. Money? A letter? A cheque? Well, I’d soon find out.

The empty seat where Lucy used to sit caught my eye. Her absence weighed on me. Where could she be? Still under house arrest? When would she return? Then my gaze drifted to JK’s desk. Memories of the risks I’d taken with my friends flooded my mind. Our so-called victory was nothing but pyrrhic. Lucy, the ultimate prize, was gone. The girl I loved most, and the boy I hated most, both were absent.

I sat down, careful to avoid eye contact with my “CID” mate until the closing bell.

When school finally ended, I headed straight to our meeting point behind the toilet. She wasn’t there. Perfect. I quickly pulled out the envelope and tore it open. It wasn’t money. It wasn’t a cheque. It was a letter.

The name at the bottom made my heart stumble: Lucy.

I checked to make sure no one was around before I started reading.

---

The Letter

Hi KD, I’m so sorry for what happened to you last Friday. I wish I had the chance to apologise in person, but I couldn’t. Please forgive me for what I’m about to tell you.

I will no longer be attending this school. My dad is taking me abroad to continue my education. I know this is hard, but trust me, I’m hurting too. I thought now that we had agreed to date, you would finally show me your love, but it never came to pass.

I wish you the best in your studies, and I hope you’ll find another girl who will cherish you. My mum told me you’d come to our house on Sunday evening, but you didn’t. I had planned to tell you then. Since you didn’t come, I had no choice but to write this letter. I’ll be leaving for Accra this afternoon. I don’t know if I can see you before I go. Goodbye.

---

My heartbeat went wild. My hands shook. Lucy was leaving. Abroad. For good.

Fear pinned me to the ground. My brain froze. But then hope flickered—she said she’d leave this afternoon. Maybe I could catch her before she left.

I shoved the letter back into my pocket, ready to run, but just then my “CID” mate appeared. She looked smug, as if victory were in her hands.

Finally, the kiss.

“I’m leaving,” I told her flatly.

“Hey, you can’t go. You know what happens if you refuse?” she snapped.

I turned on her. “Look, girl, I don’t care what you know or who you’ll tell. Do it fast. I don’t care anymore.”

She reached for my arm. I pushed her off. She landed on the ground and hissed that she’d report me. I didn’t even care.

I ran. I ran without my bag, without thinking, without breath—just running toward Lucy’s house.

A voice inside kept saying it was pointless, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.

And then I saw it. That same posh car her mum had driven last Sunday. It slowed, stopped.

Lucy’s voice called me. I ran to the window. She was crying, her face wet with tears, words trapped in her throat.

Her mum leaned out and told me goodbye—they were running late.

The car drove off.

I collapsed in the middle of the street and cried like a baby. I didn’t care about the cars, the stares, the threats from the CID girl, JK, or even MEGA BRAINS. None of it mattered.

All that mattered was the love I had lost. The girl I never truly had.

THE END