PHARAOH IV

On the day of the next exam, which happened to be the penultimate one, a junior student told me he was calling me. I told him to say I was coming, but I knew I would never step foot in his office again.

When the exam was about to start, I went to my usual seat. However, the Economics teacher told me to leave, while raising his voice in front of the entire class, saying things about me being entitled.

I did not understand and tried to explain that I had been in that exam hall since the start of the exam even if he knew.

He paid deaf ears to me and kept on screaming like a child that I had to get out.

With my tail between my legs, I reluctantly made my way to my previous exam hall.

As the exam invigilator distributed the question sheets, Pharaoh came to my new or rather old exam hall saying he wanted to talk to me.

The female invigilator let me leave.

I got outside and he squeezed two dirty looking two hundred naira notes in my hand and mentioned that things could change in a split second if I changed my mind.

He assured me that he would continue to take care of me, emphasizing that nothing would change. He added that he knew I would amount to nothing in the exams without him. He also reminded me that I would go hungry on the stipends my parents gave me, and I would have to walk on roads I had driven past.

I returned the naira notes and reentered the hall with him behind me. He told the invigilator he wanted to see her and they left together.

God knows what he said to her because when she returned, she moved me from my seat in the middle to one in front of the rest of the class. She also mentioned that she had heard tales of me and now had her eyes on me.

That exam proved to be the most difficult for me. I couldn't make a move without feeling her scrutinizing gaze.

The last exam was no better; I found myself staring blankly in the exam hall. The little I had managed to read evaporated as soon as I saw that the same invigilator was present.

Immediately after the exam, everyone would take to last paper jubilation, breaking pens, tearing, and painting on uniforms with permanent markers, disturbing the entire school. Letting whoever cared to know that we were done with secondary school.

Secondary school was done and dusted, or so I thought.

 I told myself I would only watch the charade and not join it. I had two younger sisters who might attend this school, so I could not join in tearing or painting uniforms or even breaking pens, no matter how little ink they contained. They could be useful.

I followed as everyone ran out of the class in excitement. I was excited too. The colored markers came out from God knows where to turn our white shirts into a color palette, an unrecognizable white. A few people tried to sign on my uniform too, but I managed to slip away.

Ogah had successfully drawn a line with a blue marker on my shirt, and I was trying to escape when I noticed those eyes staring from afar. He was washing his hands—the same hands that had taught me Math, given me food, taken care of me, and the same hands had also soiled me.

He turned off the tap from the tank that stood by his office. He rubbed his wet hands on his gray suit, and began to walk towards us. I watched him carefully to be sure he did not see me before disappearing and taking to my heels.

That was the last I saw of him.

At least, that was what I thought.

After a while, news spread that our results were out. As soon as my mother heard, she began pressuring me to get my results.

After a few days of her nagging, I finally dragged myself to a cyber café to check.

The last two subjects I had written without any help returned as Fs, it was no surprise. My Mathematics result was withheld. The others were Bs and Cs.

I was not sure what reaction to expect from my parents, but they were used to my failures, so the F’s would not be a big problem. Maybe the B’s and C’s would be enough distraction.

My mother did not say much. She only asked if the Fs would deter my admission into the university that year, and what would happen with the withheld result.

I told her I did not know, even if I knew they could deter my admission. A part of me hoped for a miracle.

That night, Faith's mother visited for the first time since Faith's death. As soon as my mum told her about my results, she burst into tears.

My mom tried consoling her, telling her it would be well. She said she was not mourning Faith, Faith had chosen her path. She expressed that her only concern was that my result would not have been this bad if only Faith had reconsidered her actions.

When the whole episode ended, she advised that I return to school to ask about the withheld result and if the Fs would affect my admission.

I hoped I would never set foot in my school again, but there I was at the entrance of the staff room, listening to Mr. Adigun, our Yoruba teacher. Another teacher, Miss Gloria, interrupted and advised that I could talk to the principal, as she had noticed he had taken my welfare up on himself and maybe he could help.

I was happy when I said it was not necessary and Mr. Adigun agreed.

Miss Gloria brought up reason to convince him. After a while, Mr. Adigun nodded and said I should see the principal to make things easier for myself.

I walked out of his office untouched. It felt like a dream. He had been as formal as possible like he had never touched me or even being close.

I went home with a letter he asked the secretary to type. Now, looking back, I think I should have opened that letter.

The following morning, I sat outside his office while my parents entered to speak to him.

Only God knows what he said to them that my parents returned home praising him; even my father said my ‘empty head’ was lucky.

I asked my mom about their conversation. After minutes of praising him and talking about how lucky I was to have him, she said he spoke very well. She said he advised that I retake the WAEC exams because I might end up waiting indefinitely for the Math result. He said he could even ensure that my parents didn't have to pay for the exam.

He was hell-bent on ruining me, unfortunately , he was succeeding. I had to talk to someone.