CHAPTER 1


It was 2012 and I was in High School the entire year. It was also my final year in High School. So, I had to take the Final examination before graduation… or what looked like one. The graduation was not compulsory; once the entire class refuse to turn up for the party, there would be no party. It was almost as if the school had nothing to do with the Graduation party.
The examination lasted one month. On the last day, I abandoned a fellow High School class mate at the bus stop because she was shy. Pardon the way I jumped in there, it would be boring to go on about the school and exams without sticking to the title of the entire incident I’m about to disclose.
Okay, I did not “abandon” her because she was shy but that was a part of the reasons I did. She was so shy she couldn’t even look me in the face while we walked to the bus stop together. It was disturbing because I was talking TO HER and she was looking away, sometimes looking down. It went on for a while and I felt uncomfortable. That was not enough reason to leave her there and run off…?
I left her and ran off because she refused to kiss me… She was shy and nervous. We had planned to kiss before parting ways on that last day, till we meet again. Truthfully, I was nervous too but I stood my ground, you won’t even notice my sweaty palms while she almost fainted.
Before then, she had a crush on me for 3 years and told me she loved me so many times. I doubted her “love” at the time because it was difficult to date a classmate in High School. Why? I will tell you
CHAPTER 2

Most Nigerian High School teachers enjoy examination malpractice flogging students. It’s like they can’t do without hitting a student/pupil with a stick… or something bigger. Especially the public ones
If you are quiet in class, no one would “roll” with you and if you’re the opposite of quiet, congratulations! You’d make the Noise makers’ list at least twice a week. Unless the class prefect in charge of writing the names of noise makers is your best friend. Even if he/she is, the entire class would protest till your name enters the news noise makers’ list. Now, how would you feel if you’re being flog for making noise and your girlfriend is in the same class? Will you cry? How will you act when you’re asked a question in class and you don’t have the answer(s)? The same class your girlfriend is in. How will you react when you say the wrong thing and everyone laughs at you… calling you names in front of your girlfriend.
All the while, your girlfriend would be in the class. It’s really embarrassing. In fact, having a girlfriend in the same class as you was considered a waste of time, to some, SIN. All the shame from the flogging, Hell, I was a noisy student and noisy students get flogged, even when they’re good in class. Imagine your babe in the same class. That was why I doubted it when she told me she was in love with me. How could anyone even fall for an Idiot like me…? In High School
That fateful afternoon when she was being too shy on me; I left her at the bus stop and ran off to take a bus home. A crush of 3 years ended all of a sudden that afternoon, or so I thought. She told some schoolmates I broke her heart… *most of them are still hating on me now.*
Two years later in 2014, we chatted on Facebook. She talked about love and how she was no longer shy. We were cool with each other again and sometimes laughed about the past. Although we never met face to face after the bus stop incident. We only talked over the phone. She asked to visit me but I refused because I was very busy at the time… but I hoped to meet her again someday.
CHAPTER 3

February 14th 2015, we still talked and I looked forward to meeting her again.
In April 2015, she Died, Leaving a child behind.
It was shocking, I couldn’t believe it because she never mentioned being Ill or pregnant over the phone. I tagged a note to most of my classmates on Facebook who confirmed her death, talking about the good old times and how I was sorry I didn’t know she gave birth. Some took the opportunity to blame me for breaking her heart back in school.
The road to the house I lived while in High school runs through her bus stop. The same bus stop I had abandoned her that afternoon in high school. Whenever I visit my mother from Lagos, I would pass through the same bus stop. Then I remember her, from the great girl she was to the ghost of a grown up woman with a child in her arms. It’s scary, I know. I don’t know why I picture her that way. It must have been the Nigerian movie I had watched when I was little where a woman was killed and her child pounded in a mortar with a pestle for sacrifice. Her ghost took revenge with a crying baby in her arms, later in the movie. I always wondered why she never told me she was pregnant the last time we talked. It’s disturbing.

Although she’s dead, her child is not. The child I’m yet to meet.

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