I swallowed the lump and blocked the thoughts out. Control. I had to maintain control. I fake-smiled at him and headed to my classroom as the siren sounded again.

“I’m telling you, he drives his own car. I saw him this morning,” Nana Kwame was telling a group of boys when I walked in.

“I hear his father is a senator. You know Nigeria and the oil, the big people chop the money nyanfu nyanfu nyanfu,” someone else said.

“But you know these Anago people, it could be 4.1.9. or drugs or something,” another person said.

I took my seat and took out my economics textbook. Studying was the only thing that kept me sane in school. I wondered what I would do after the WASSCE while we waited for the results. Our economics teacher entered the class and for the first time since I entered the school, I relaxed.

I’ve heard other SHS students complain about their cafeteria food but KICS prides itself on serving edible food. I never missed break. If I had a good lunch, I usually was not too hungry when we got home.

I joined the queue for waakye and went to sit at an empty table. I always took a book with me to lunch. That kept me from having to look around the cafeteria and see the looks on people’s faces. Looks that ranged from disgust to pity. I didn’t mind the disgust so much. It was the pity I couldn’t stand. I’d picked up A Thousand Splendid Suns from Baba a few weeks ago and I was trying not to finish it in two days.

As I turned a page I don’t know why but I glanced at my old table, where I’d sat before with Afua Gyamfua. Nhyiraa was showing her something on her phone and Afua was laughing. She raised her head up and our eyes met briefly. It was like she was looking through me. There was not even a flicker of recognition. She returned her gaze to Nhyiraa’s phone and I returned mine to my book and my plate of waakye.

“There he is,” I heard someone behind me whisper, and a hush descended on the cafeteria.

Chidi had just entered the cafeteria. His hair was braided back in corn-rows. Because KICS had an international section, they were not strict about hairstyles, painted nails, mobile phones and other things that were prohibited in other SHS.

I bent my head down and went into full invisible mode. Who joined a new school when it was just two months to WASSCE? And if he already had his own car why was he at the local section and not the international section like all the other rich kids?

Chidi got out his coupon and went to the snack section. He got three glazed doughnuts and a bottle of coke. As he scanned the cafeteria for a place to sit I buried my head once again into the pages of my book.

“Hey dude, over here,” Kwaku Duah called from Nana Kwame’s table. Chidi walked over to their table and set his tray down. Kwaku Duah and Nana Kwame were cousins and they were part of the cool kids.

I finished my lunch and used the back exit out of the cafeteria. We had a pop-quiz in literature but I didn’t mind.

Studying all the time gave you an edge. I didn’t think I’d make below a 90. Though we hadn’t yet written the mock exams I was quite pleased with my academic performance so far. I was sure my name would be on the honour roll at the end of the term. That was something I was really proud of. I was sure I’d make all A’s in the WASSCE.

Just as the siren for closing went, Dad sent a text to tell me he was running late. I stayed behind in the classroom until he called forty minutes later to ask me to meet him at the gate. I picked up my bag and walked out of the school expecting him to be at the car park but he wasn’t. Nana Kwame, Kwaku Duah and about seven other guys were gathered around Chidi’s red Audi. There was no way I could have avoided them even if I wanted to.

The talking ceased as I walked by. Then I heard some whispering and minutes later loud laughter. But the laughter was not loud enough to drown out the word someone shouted after I passed, “Gono.”

“Control. Control,” I whispered as Dad drew into the car park. By the time he’d come to a stop I’d blocked out the hurt and had a smile ready on my face.

“Hi love, sorry I was late. How was school?”

“Good.”

“Was that Chidi back there?”

I shrugged.

Dad looked in the rear-view mirror but we were probably too far away for him to make Chidi out.

“It’s probably not. He can’t possibly have made all those friends on his first day. I forgot to tell you he was going to be in your school.”

I pretended to be reading a message on my phone.

Dad turned to me. “Be nice to him if you see him. He’s going through a really tough time.”

I turned to read Dad’s expression. Had Chidi or his father told him anything? But Dad’s expression was same as always. He had that my-hope-is-in-God look on his face.

“Let’s go get Sarfoa.”

I shok my head as Dad concentrated on driving. Only Dad who had lost a daughter and who didn’t know exactly where his wife was at the moment could be selfless enough to think of some teenager who was going through a tough time.

***

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