The normal people left in his school were no more up to one

 In my senior secondary school, what I was much known for was isolation: I was always alone, crestfallen and was already perfecting plans to give up on life. My dispirited demeanour wasn't the only outline one could conveniently pick up about me then, my entire life was a ridicule.

I entered my senior secondary two as the youngest of a class with population of eighty-three. Being the youngest in class meant I had to endure bullying, contempt, and disesteem from almost all of my classmates. My school, a local community school with the grace of delivering to it's wild plank-headed students a 100% external examination success rate was much of a celebrated jungle. Like the city of Paris where everything literally happens, my buffalo school had in attendance people of various bearings and addictions; creatures mistaken for humans.

One of such persons was Sebastian, but for our wooden-head sake, we nicked him Seb. Known for his indifference towards academics, Seb was also one who gave up on life, perfecting such by gradually sliding into wine soaking and smoking. He felt it honourably to die smoking like his father, although bettering the man with an exclusive intake of the ‘wisdom grasses.’ To others, he was digging an early grave, but to me he was high on life; Seb was my guy!

 

Another of the early creatures that found it's way into our school which was remotely located in one of the 774 local government of the ‘banana republic’ was Loveth. In full honour to her name, the ‘yanga’ girl was much loved by the majority of boys in school chiefly for her lovable backside. To finally finish the chastity in me which was only remaining seventeen percent, the girl's melanin-rich skin meticulously toned with moisturising lotion gleamed with aesthetic vigour.

A new-comer to the school, the girl came to be my inspiration in school and by extension in life; she became the reason I visited school everyday; she was my cloaked princess charming. Before the coming of Loveth the lovable girl, I formerly had some strange exotic feelings for Gladys and Ima-obong, the regular toppers in our class. Ima-obong was a Jehovah witness member, however, her manners showed one who had lived with Satan for 600 years before being put to birth. Aside her ‘one week, one trouble’ routine perversities, she was always that snake that stood to prevent any Adam of a boy in the class in finding his Eve.

Gladys was a gentle girl, probably from a cultured family. She was a girl who was known to be in acquaintance with a pocket Bible. Without being told I knew that either herself, her parents, or her relatives were members of the revered Deeper Life Bible Church. Her illustrious skirts weren't ordinary like her fellow girls, as the bottom hem of it did gracefully swept the floor at every of her walks. To put it obviously, she was a ‘practising christian.’

Last term, Loveth, Ima-obong, and Gladys made up the top three positions in class and that motivated my desire to have them under my catch. Imagining myself emerging a man with a blanket-head which at present I couldn't help marrying a girl who might be similar or no better than I was a trivial issue. However pondering about my offspring, which would likely be about two times retarded than I, I knew a generational problem beckoned. To that effect, I took my aspirations of making friends with the three intelligent girls importantly.

One Thursday morning, Mr Emmanuel, the English language teacher played into my wish by teaching us what he knew for half of the period, then leaving the other halve for the students to learn what after being taught they still did not know. My liking for Mr Emmanuel started when he in good authority during one of his classes stated that he doesn't believe in intense teaching — I knew then that I saw my bred in the man. To the stupefaction of the students, the Uyo-born idiot who taught he was a teacher further admonished me and my fellow uniformed people that God, a perfectionist, made the brain in a manner that the duration it takes to record an information is the same it takes in taking it in. We believed him, what did we have else to believe?

With the free period offered us by the teacher, I went to meet my friend Seb at his desk. Like an elder advising his inexperienced protege, my friend turned mentor schooled me on what to do. According to him, I needed to start my coquetry with one who was relatively cool-headed. Gladys, the Deeper Life member was my first destination.

The following day, I spent all my free periods with Seb learning the Bible with the church girl, as there were more of lecture-free periods than lecture periods in the bufallo school. This Bible learning continued for about a week, and when I saw this was giving my intentions no positives, I redrew myself together with my friend. The next day my friend Sebastian to my surprise walked to school hands held with Gladys. As I had two more cards to turn, I didn't express much of my anger.

Ima-obong the JW member was next.

Still trusting to Seb's advice, I penned down some love letters and hideously slid it into Ima-obong’s bag. The reply came in the manner it was sent — secretly inserted to my bag — and had much content than mine. I was glad, reasoning that probably she had to be wordy in her expression due to the fervidness on her side. This was however not the case.

In a 4-paged leaflet, the girl carefully drilled into my cognition how superior she was to me in age and fame; how she was present in life when my father caught feelings, flirted, and dated my mother. She even went on to enlighten my seeming numb self how my father being a soft spoken individual was helped by her to toast and eventually marry my mother. Adding injury to the insult, she went on to school me on how to really toast ‘a girl of her stature.’ As I was the one who invited the insult, I held onto my peaceful bearing, because to me she had mistakenly insulted the Alligator before she could even cross the river. Now as with the previous escapade, Seb arrived school the next day holding hands with Ima-obong. I was no less amused about these reoccurring ‘coincidences’.

My last card was with the ‘liquid metal’, the lovable Loveth. Like I did to Ima-obong, I sent her a well-written love letter(popular those days) but surprisingly got no reply. As my village people would have it, I also got no reply after sending a second letter. But as someone who have always visited the church and was in knowledge of the Bible's charge in Galatians 6:9 that we should not be weary in doing good, I crafted an excellent letter again for the girl. In the letter, I explained unequivocally of my intentions of making her a friend; of how I needed an intelligent future wife so badly.

This time there was a reply. It came short and read: “After being scapegoated by Gladys and Ima-obong, Seb made quite a fool of you! Let me see how good a husband you could be, watch out!” I later realised that all the girls were Seb's friend except Loveth, both two working with Seb to leave me a fool.

Two days later, I was called to meet with my principal, the only staff feared in the school. The pot-bellied man upon my arrival drew my attention to a letter on his desk. This was unfortunately the one in which I asked Loveth out. I confidently told the man how his schooling environment had influenced my actions: the unavailability of staffs, immoral mates, and uncomfortable learning condition. Without saying much, and with the few point I had in mind, I was able to convince and confuse the old man that as the only child to my parents, romance was different and far better than affair.

He then knew that the normal people left in his school were no more up to one.

I left to date Loveth for the next 600 years.

#fiction

#loving_the_lovable_loveth

I come and go in peace ☮️.