CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: CONCLUSION OR ARGUMENT (2)
"Hey guys!" Vanessa barged into the hostel passage, interrupting us almost immediately.
I froze mid-step, and I could tell Morayo and Victoria froze as well. There was something about the way Vanessa walked in—so confident, so casual—that made it impossible not to notice her.
"Who are you guys talking about that made you almost shout at each other?" Vanessa asked, looking at each of us one by one. Her eyes lingered on me for a moment longer, as if trying to read my mind, and I instinctively felt a little tense under her gaze.
"We were just talking about a classmate that made the teacher annoyed," Morayo answered instantly, her tone smooth, almost rehearsed. I had been expecting one of us to tell the truth. After all, having Vanessa so close in our friendship group could easily lead to misunderstandings between us if we weren't careful.
"Let's go. I heard that the senior prefect had already opened our hostel," Vanessa said, changing the subject as if she hadn't just barged in like a storm.
"Oh, let's go then," Victoria said, sounding completely oblivious. She picked up her bag and started walking toward the door with us trailing behind.
I took a deep breath, thinking I should let the question off my shoulders once and for all. I couldn't let it fester any longer; I had to know.
"Do you know John?" I asked Vanessa, turning to face her while trying to focus on walking straight toward our hostel.
"Nah," she replied immediately.
"I was just curious because… John didn't act like that to me when I first spoke to him," I said, carefully watching her reaction.
"Maybe we had met before, maybe we hadn't," she said with a shrug, her tone light but leaving an ambiguous weight behind it.
Gosh, what is with this girl? I thought. What exactly is she implying? The shrug didn't answer my question; it only added more layers of confusion.
I turned to face her with a slightly annoyed expression before forcing myself to relax and focus on the path ahead.
"You mad ni?" a senior shouted at her mate in a very popular Nigerian Pidgin English, making us all pause mid-step.
"Shey na me you dey talk to like that?" the other senior responded, equally loud, his voice dripping with irritation.
Girls gathered around to watch the argument unfold, their voices mixing with whispers of excitement. Naturally, we also paused, unable to look away. You couldn't just pass by an argument where people were speaking in pidgin or any native Nigerian language. There was a unique energy, a rhythm, and a kind of unspoken entertainment that drew you in.
"I warn you first time say, you dey pour water on me. The second time I warn you, third time I warn you. Wetin do your ear? Shey you deaf ni? You no know say you dey pour dirty water on me abi?" one senior said, stepping closer, chest thrust forward in challenge.
"I no even know say na you I dey pour water on. I think say na gutter I dey pour the dirty water on, but gutter and you no difference na. I wonder wetin dey your body that you dey do like one ajebutter," the other senior shot back, glaring, his words sharp and mocking.
"If them born your mama and papa well, call me gutter again!" the first senior exclaimed, stepping even closer, her anger palpable.
Immediately, anyone familiar with heated arguments in this school would know: calling someone's parents like that usually meant a fight was imminent. The tension was electric, and I could feel it crawling down my spine.
"What are you looking for here, oya leave. I don't want to see any juniors here!" a third senior shouted, sending the gathering juniors away.
That was the part I always hated. Just when the argument reached its peak, a spoiler would appear to ruin the climax, leaving the drama unresolved.
"Last junior to leave this place will cut the grass at the back of the hostel," she added. Immediately, all the juniors—including us—ran away. No one wanted to be the last, not even for a second.
I had never cut grass in my life, and I didn't want to start now, but deep down, I knew that sooner or later, I would face it since I was in this school.
"That was a close one," Morayo said once we finally entered the safety of our hostel, her voice low but full of relief.
"I swear," I said, smiling, shaking my head.
We walked quietly down the passage. Vanessa was the first to leave for her room, her room conveniently closer to the hostel entrance. She left without a word, her calm and casual demeanor making her seem unbothered by the chaos outside.
"That is the first time I'm seeing someone argue in this school," I confessed as we walked to our room, still feeling the adrenaline from the spectacle outside.
"Ah, you've missed a lot. There was even one fight that almost led to two seniors killing themselves because of a senior boy. They got suspended for a month," Morayo said, shaking her head as if recalling the madness in vivid detail.
"To conclude everything, there is no week that a senior will not fight," Victoria said as we entered our room, her tone matter-of-fact, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.
I thought back to our discussion earlier. I really wanted to bring it up again because it hadn't settled in my mind yet. The tension with Vanessa nagged at me like a persistent itch.
"About what Vanessa answered you with, if it were me, I would have insulted her," Morayo said, bringing up the topic as if reading my mind.
"Should we just tell her straight to her face that we can't be friends instead of all this unnecessary talk behind her back?" Victoria asked, sounding uncomfortable.
"I am even ready to tell her that already," I said firmly as I sat on my bed. My tone left no room for debate; this had gone on long enough.
"What about you?" Morayo asked Victoria, turning to face her fully.
"Me?! I don't actually have a problem with her yet. So, I can't conclude anything. And if you guys want to end the friendship with her, I am okay with that," Victoria said, shrugging, her expression calm and honest.
"Okay o, if you say so, Victoria. I am also against her being with us because it will lead to misunderstandings between ourselves," Morayo said seriously, her eyes locking with mine.
"That was also what I wanted to say," I responded, feeling a small sense of relief. It was settled, at least for now. Vanessa's presence in our circle was not something we could handle without complications, and I knew it was better to be honest with her than to pretend otherwise.
The room fell into a quiet moment after that. For the first time that day, I felt a little peace. The argument outside, Vanessa's intrusion, and all the unspoken tension between us seemed to pause for a while. But I knew, deep down, that our confrontation with Vanessa wasn't over. It would come, sooner or later.