“Do you know fireflies are not flies at all but female beetles that light up to attract males? Do you know oysters are hermaphrodites? They are male one year and female the next. Did you know North American kangaroos never drink water? Do you know that cats spend thirteen to fourteen hours a day sleeping? Do you know snails used to be eaten in Britain as a cure for catarrh?”

We were in the car park in front of the primary section of KICS.

Chidi took my hand, “Do you know it doesn’t matter to me what happened last year or in the last ten years? It doesn’t make a difference in how I feel about you.”

I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat and blinked back the tears.

“It’s not true. It’s not even true,” I said and the tears came pouring down my face.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Last year we had this football competition. It was maybe about two months after Ntiriwa died . . .”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“But I do. I want you to know what happened, how it started. People had already started avoiding me, you know, like I don’t know, like maybe if they befriended me maybe something bad would happen to them too. Afua Gyamfua was the only one who was still my friend.

There is this football competition between the SHS and the international section. They hold it every year and it’s a big thing, and everyone is always at the game. All my life, I’ve only used the washrooms at home. I’ve done that since forever. Mom always said it was a bad thing, but it’s worked for me. At half time, it was 2:2, and out of nowhere I just had to use the washroom, I mean really badly. I tried to suppress the urge, but this time it was not working. I was so scared I’d pee on myself so I went to use the washroom, but there was this long queue of girls. I joined it and waited my turn. One of the senior girls couldn’t stand it, so she asked someone to look out for her and she used the boys’ washroom which for some reason was empty. I’m sure that instead of coming to the classroom block to use the washrooms, the boys just peed in the bushes behind the football field.

“I really needed to go. I didn’t know what else to do. The boys’ washroom was still empty and so I went in to use one of their cubicles. I didn’t even make it in time. I peed on myself. I cleaned up and came out of the stall to wash my hands.

I started reading the graffiti on the wall as I dried my hands. Someone had written: Ntiriwa is so hot and before I knew it I was crying. I was shaking and crying. One of the guys from the international section, Paapa walked in. He has a reputation for sleeping around. He’d already been unbuckling his belt before he walked in. He saw me crying and asked what was wrong. I showed him the graffiti and told him Ntiriwa was my sister and that she was now dead. And then he hugged me and that made the crying worse.

“Nana Kwame walked in and saw us like that. He went and told all the boys that I’d had sex with Paapa in the washroom. But that wasn’t the worst part. After peeing on myself I found out I couldn’t hold my urine in for longer than fifteen minutes and to make it worse it hurt when I peed. It was like liquid fire was passing out of me. I had to wear a pad to school just to catch the urine in case I didn’t make it to the washroom in time. It began hurting so much that I got scared to pee and that made it even worse.

“Three days later, I went to see the school nurse and I told her that it hurt when I peed and I couldn’t keep the urine in. The nurse told me I probably had a UTI. UTI means urinary tract infection. She gave me drugs and asked me to drink lots of fluids and not to hold the urine in. I didn’t know Nhyiraa was lying down in the next cubicle. She had cramps. The next thing I knew the whole school was talking about me saying I had gone to see the nurse because I had an STI. Then Nana Kwame added what he’d seen in the washroom and they started calling me Gono. The fact that I’m a pastor’s daughter only made it worse.”

Chidi just shook his head. “I’m sorry.” He leaned over, wiped my tears and kissed my forehead.

“Do you know what?” he asked opening the glove compartment and bringing out a box of Golden Tree chocolates.

I shook my head.

“They didn’t even spell gonorrhoea right.”

I smiled. I didn’t think he had noticed.

“Here have one of these. Chocolates just seem to make everything better.”

I selected a Kingsbite chocolate and took a bite and by the time we got home I did feel better.