CHAPTER 2

Lagos, Nigeria.

2012.

Maliya woke up the next morning, searching for her clock on the bedside table, only to stop abruptly, remembering where she was.

Three years ago, she would have cut off her left hand to be here, admist her family, but now she dreaded this place the most.

She opened the bedside drawer and switched on her phone.

5:30 am.

She dragged herself from bed, and headed to the bathroom, only coming out when she had bathed, brushed her teeth and taken care of everything else.

She muttered her supplications and folded her praying mat.

Maliya had decided to carry on with her life the way she had been living for the past three years, she wouldn't become the girl she once was, she had resolved.

Determined, she picked up the broom and swept the room, mended her bed, then mopped the ground.

She trudged along to the living room, sweeping and mopping it, before moving on to the dining table.

She was in the kitchen preparing breakfast when she heard the door creak open, followed by the figures of her father and brothers, dressed in their thobes.

She walked out of the kitchen, muttering greetings to them, before resuming her work.

"How was your night" the gruff voice of her father inquired, as she replied meekly "Good, Alhamdulillah".

Zaharadeen, behind his father, eyed his lying sister. He had sat by his sister's door the previous night, listening to her whimpers and cries throughout the night.

His mother had soon joined him, tears rolling down her eyes as she listened to the cries of her daughter, only going back to sleep when she had quitened down.

Zaharadeen had walked back into his room, wondering how his older brothers could be asleep while their sister cried herself to sleep.

As he gazed upon the young woman in front of him, he couldn't see his cheerful little sister who considered him her knight, but a bitter young woman who was content keeping him at arm's length.

He gazed intently at his sister, feeling his heart squeeze at the bitterness and pain that clouded her eyes.

Maliya turned her back to the four men who lingered behind her, silently wishing for them to leave her be.

She sighed in relief as the sound of retreating footsteps met her ears.

*******

Maliya set two warmers on the table, one containing akara, the other containing pap.

"Ekaaro ma(good morning ma)" she greeted her mother, kneeling before the red-eyed woman.

"Kaaro oko mi(morning, my darling)" her mother replied, her voice low and pained.

She hated seeing her daughter treat her like a stranger, but she knew it was what she deserved.

Maliya had eaten her food in the kitchen, not wanting to be a part of the conversation that was going to ensue at breakfast.

"I'll be in my room, ma" Maliya informed her mother, quietly retreating to her place of solace.

She picked up a new book, flipping through the pages as she recreated the scenes through her imagination.

******

An hour later, both her parents had gone out to their places of work and she couldn't care less.

She continued reading her book, happy to be pulled into a world of fantasy where she could pretend everything was all right.

She flipped through the pages, her eyes raking through every word, entranced by the fictional characters.

The pages got thinner and thinner until she got to the final page, she read the last page with a content smile on her face.

The book —now closed— rested on her bedside table as she got up, flexing her aching limbs.

'Oh boy, time don go' Maliya thought, fixating her eyes on the clock on the wall opposite her.

She squinted her eyes as the harsh rays of light invaded her dark room through a slit in the curtain.

Opening her curtains, she looked outside her window to the field downstairs.

The grassy expanse of land appealed to her, she wanted to feel the soft grass beneath her feet, and bask in the warm rays of the setting sun, but she restrained herself.

She gazed upon the face of her clock with blurry eyes, realising she had missed her noon and sunset prayers.

How long have I been cooped up in this room?.

***

After saying her prayers that evening, she hastily prepared dinner before her brothers got back from the mosque.

It was half an hour past seven when her mother came back home.

Mrs Jamil watched her daughter retreat to her room after dinner and sighed.

She wondered how Maliya would take the news her husband told her to deliver.

*****

Maliya was not surprised the next morning when her mother informed her that she would be transferring to another school, she actually had been expecting the news.

The next few weeks, she had established a routine and she continued that way for the rest of the holiday, the only exceptions being when it was necessary to go out.

A week to the school's resumption, her twin brothers had returned to the university, and her father had been transferred to the naval branch in Asokoro, Abuja.

She made a trip to the tailors and picked up her uniform.

"Test am naa" her tailor told her, directing her to the makeshift dressing room.

She bolted the door once in it, and soon after walked out of the cubicle in the white and blue attire.

The shirt was made with a white chino material, the material the same texture as it's matching blue skirt.

The sleeve of the white shirt stopped just above her elbows, and beneath her blue hijaab was the blue tie.

A white stripe ran across the middle of the black tie, indicating her being in her first year in the senior secondary school.

The tie was of the same material as the tight skirt which would need fitting.

Puberty had caused her once bulky thighs to reduce in size considerably, or maybe it was the cause of malnutrition.

Maliya was by no means thin, as some fat from her once obese body still remained.

She maintained a healthy weight, and like most females in her family, was amply structured.

Walking back into the dressroom, Maliya changed into her ankara gown, waiting for the woman to finish adjusting the skirt.

"Oko mi (my husband), yes I'll be taking the children to church this evening don't worry. The Lord is your strength....Yes... love you bye".

The tailor, Aunty Lanre flashed her a toothy smile as she got off the call, the gap between her gleaming white incisors revealing.

She waved at the woman, her chapped lips turning upwards.

A few shops to the left of Aunty Lanre's, a dark-skinned woman sat under the zinc roof, protected from the scorching heat with her wares displayed in a diaphanous glass cupboard.

"Wetin you wan buy?" Another woman called to her from her shop, she shook her head at the woman, walking towards the dark-skinned woman.

"How much is this bag?" She asked pointing to a black medium-sized bag that was hung on the wall opposite her.

"The HP-POWER bag, abi the one wey get Chinese on top?(the hp power bag or the one with the Chinese inscription)" the woman inquired to which she replied with the former.

"My pikin(child), the bag na five thousand, last price na four- five" she listened to the woman go on about the quality of the bag, and how she would use it for ten years without anything happening to it.

"Madam, you know say na the first time wey I go come your shop be dis,  sell am for me four thousand, that four thousand-five too much(You know its the first time I'm coming to your shop, four thousand five hundred is too much)" Maliya implored.

They debated on the price for some minutes, till the woman reluctantly agreed after Maliya threatened to go elsewhere.

Maliya was not as fortunate when she progressed to the next shop, the woman selling the socks she wanted just wouldn't budge. With a sigh she handed the woman some money in exchange for her purchased wares.

An hour later, Maliya slumped down unto her bed exhausted from the market activities.

Looking out the window, Maliya's eyes raked through the field that called out to her, the lush grass blanketed the rich soil, gleaming as the sun shone above the spread below her.

Her gaze landed upon a hooded masculine silhouette, from what she could see, he would definitely tower over her, probably the height of the youngest of her brothers.

She squinted her hazel eyes under the bright sunlight, straining to catch a glimpse of the figure to no avail until she couldn't see him again.

*******

Monday morning met a nervous Maliya, as she rubbed the scar on her inner palm habitually, trying to calm herself.

To her left was her mother who was driving her to her new school. She had no idea what she would do when she got there, and that fact frightened her.

The blue and white gates of the school had its name engraved on them in bold cursive letters.

'Nigerian Navy Secondary Shool Ojo' it said, two naval personnel stood at either side of the gate, pulling it open when the honk of Mrs Jamil's car horn blared.

Turning left, her mother parked her car beside what looked to be a science lab of some sort.

Her legs felt like jelly when she alighted the car, but she mustered up courage and followed her mother to a building labelled G & C.

She waited in the reception while her mother conversed with the dark-skinned obese woman.

The woman had occassionally been glancing at her throughout the conversation, her clapsed fingers supported by her blackened elbows.

"Baby girl, what department would you like to be in, you have the sciences, arts and commerce to choose from" the woman told her, eyes focused on the broad white sheet that contrasted with the black table which it was on.

"Sciences" Maliya replied with conviction, already visualising herself in her white lab coat, clutching her hard-cover notes in her arms.

"There are six arms in each class, namely: Agu, Ayam, Damisa, Ekun, Siri and Ekpe. The matron began.

"....Agu and Ayam are art classes, Damisa is a commercial class, Ekun is technological sciences, and Ekpe and Siri are purely science classes" Maliya reasoned hard weighing her options, she wasn't sure if she should be in Ekpe or Siri.

The idea that struck her the next few minutes had her inner fox grinning almost as widely as her favourite villian- the joker.

The aura of authority around the woman assured her that getting in the woman's good graces would benefit her tremendously.

She had learnt from her previous school that if one had the right connections, you were more likely to survive the climb up the school's hierachy.

"Well, I'm not sure whether Ekpe would be a better choice than Siri" she said, outlining her plan in her head as she spoke.

The matron looked up at her briefly before returning her gaze back to her book " Well personally I prefer Ekpe, as most of our school's valedictorians graduated from the class, but I don't know if you have the ability to withstand the fierce competition you would encounter in the class"  feeling mildly insulted at how the woman subtly downgraded her, she forced a smile at her.

"Well now ma'am, I'm sure someone of your calibre would know what is best suited for me, and on that note I assure you that I would do well to match the competition" she finished with a gleaming white smile.

Mrs Jamil watched with pride at her daughter's diplomacy, watching from her peripheral view as the matron sat straighter in her chair, chest puffed out in pride.

"You have a very smart daughter" the still smiling woman addressed Mrs Jamil, then turning to Maliya.

"I'll send someone to you during your break period"

Maliya left the office after being directed in the direction of the class, the harmonious sound of the marching band invading her auditory senses as she did.

Marching towards her direction were hundreds of students, each looking almost as intimidating as the next.

A pot-bellied officer led the student body, his stomach jiggling as he did so.

Turning towards the opposite direction, she began searching for her new class.

At the end of the hallway she was roaming, she saw the name of the class she had been looking for inscribed above the navyblue door.

The rowdy class quitened upon her entry, and after a moment, silent whispers and pointing fingers where directed towards her.

She sat on an empty cahir at the back of the class, laying her throbbing head on it.

The class was half-full as it was the first day of the term, and like the students, the teacher who was supposed to take them was probably extending his/her holiday periods.

The first period went by, and halfway through the second, she heard an all-too-familiar voice.

"Look who we have here" the shrill voice of Rumaysa met her ears.

She looked at her arch nemesis in the eyes, and with a sigh grumbled.

It was going to be a long Session