This is for those that couldn’t get enough of the teaser I released from my upcoming book. Your personal request for more has been heard. Here is an extract from:
‘MY NAME IS LIZZY ADAMS’
There were loud footsteps behind me, and they followed me no matter where I weaved through the crowd. They were grandpa and granny, probably, and I’d have a lot of explaining to do when I got home — but I wouldn’t be going back to Nigeria after all of this, that was for sure! Dad was getting close to the security point, but I saw that a lot of other people were queuing to go through security checks, so I had plenty of time, as long as I could stay ahead of grandpa…
“Stop her! She’s illegally boarding!” shouted granny. Then she screamed it, in a hoarse voice that turned heads. One of the customs officers saw me, and his partner ran for me, dropping into a stance that meant there was no way I could get around her through the crowd.
Instead I ran right into the customs officer, hoping to ‘tackle’ my way past her by going underneath her outstretched left arm and running towards dad. I gained speed as I approached her, and she didn’t move, obviously not afraid of what a little kid like me could do…
…and then I successfully ducked past her, only to get caught by her partner who’d moved left into the crowd so I wouldn’t see him. He grabbed my arm so tightly I thought I was going to get a sunburn, and I screamed incoherently for him to let me go, but he took my back with his other hand and turned me around, holding me towards granny and grandpa.
I kicked against the ground in protest, and that just caused him to lift me up off the ground and smack his hand against my chest. “Don’t do that!” granny sharply yelled at him, and while he was loosening his grip on me, I smacked him with my elbow as hard as I could.
A few months ago: Red-Hot: Ibitola Ojoye-Adebayo | Acceptance
It must’ve been more surprising than painful, since he was a big guy in a customs uniform and I was me, but that was enough! I hopped away to get some distance between me and him, and then broke into a run towards the check point before he could chase after me.
…but by now, dad’ had gone through security. He turned around and waved, a glum look on his face, then lowered his head and walked out of view. All I could scream was “no!”, and I tried to push my way through the crowd. Even though some people let me past, or even ushered me onward towards dad, too many people were just ignoring the commotion I’d caused, and I didn’t make it.
It was granny this time, who grabbed me under my arms and held my arm up against her chest. I kicked and screamed, but she just made distance between my legs and hers.
“Let me go!” I told granny. I looked over at grandpa and the customs officers in dismay. I couldn’t believe it. They were now talking about what I just did like it was a thing of the past and all that needed to be done now was pay a little fine.
“You are behaving like a moron,” granny hissed, trying to shut me down with insults I barely even heard.
I loved granny, I still do. But I don’t think I could feel anything then but malice, anger, all of those bad things — and what granny said turned from tons of harsh words to a few scraps of fuel for my fire. I was gone.
“I want to go home!” I shouted unabashed, my mind running faster than my body, not caring about anything but just flying or something to get to dad. “Let me go!”
“I want to go home!” I sobbed, my voice punching the air.
Granny set me down and forced me to look at her. Then, she said: “you ARE home.”
I fell onto the floor, painlessly scraping my knee before I started hitting the ground with my fist. It hurt me more than it hurt the ground, but nothing hurt more than what had just happened.