Chapter 25 Hey Girls

Don't ever mess with the girl child, Don't ever underestimate the child, Don't dare ridicule the girl child. You're only reading this because you're the product of the girl child. —Cinmisola.

........

I remember the rest of the weekday of that week as a blurry swirl of Events and Feelings and Thoughts.

I remember facing events like the Time I had to face Tomison the next day, expecting her to giggle and tell me about my brother asking her out like Rotimi had said, but she didn't, in fact she acted so normal that if I hadn't checked Rotimi's phone and saw proof of their conversation, I would have thought he was just lying and that she knew nothing about it. I'm not the type of girl that believes in nursing feelings and thoughts till a particular time so I confronted her that day, right in the middle of lunch break at the library and she was obviously shocked. According to her explanation with a shaky voice, she wanted to tell me about it, but she didn't know how I was going to take it.

How was I supposed to take it?

Lara was also shocked about the discovery and kept asking Tomison if she was alright. In her defense, Tomison said she only agreed to be his date at the party and not to officially be his girlfriend. But it didn't make any difference to me. I told I wasn't cool with it but that I wasn't going to force her to do what she didn't want to do and she shocked me when she told me she was still going to the party with him. I was crushed but I didn't intend to push it further. I just hoped she understood that when I said I wasn't going to force her, I actually meant, DO WHAT I WANT YOU TO DO. DON'T GO OUT WITH MY BROTHER, IT MAKES ME UNCOMFORTABLE!

I didn't know what to do after the encounter, I mean; I couldn't stop talking to her simply because she was going to a party with my stupid brother. Besides was it her fault that I didn't have a boyfriend? Yeah! Maybe that was why I was so grumpy about the whole situation; maybe I was in fact, jealous. No, it couldn't be, I couldn't be jealous. I was just pissed because.... Because..... Maybe I didn't have a reason to be pissed after all.

I remember having strange feelings towards the messages I got from March and Obinna. I wasn't going to deceive myself and act like I didn't know the both them were trying to hit on me, I mean I'm not retarded. The signs were obvious. Take for instance, on Thursday, I got into class and opened my desk only to find an expensive looking chocolate in it, lots of expensive chocolates and a note that read,

I know you're still mad at me, I'm sorry. Forgive me. I hope you like these flavors; my brother said you'll love them. March.

Well, his brother thought wrong, I didn't like chocolates; in fact, they made me sick for reasons I can explain. So before you think I'm abnormal because I know you're probably wondering, "why won't anyone like chocolates, like chocolates are the only gifts Jesus released to us from paradise" well I thought so too until a particular day when my grandma came from London with loads of goodies and chocolates and Wande, Roland, Rotimi and myself began diving into them. Suddenly we noticed Wande bleeding from her nose, then Roland and Rotimi it didn't take too long before I joined the nose bleeding party. We were all rushed to the hospital but unfortunately, Wande was gone before we could get there. The doctors managed to save the lives of the rest of us and when dad finally asked him what the cause was, he was told that it was the chocolates grandma bought. The chocolates were spoilt or expired or bewitched, call it what you want, but those God-awful chocolates took the precious life of my only sister. So now you know why I hate chocolates.

But I didn't tell March that I didn't want them, I mean I wasn't the type of girl that refused free gifts. I told him I was grateful, and that he didn't need to give me the chocolates because there wasn't even a need to apologize and that I loved chocolates. Yes, I lied.

Obinna's hit was the worst. Not bad worse or good worse either, (if there's something like a good worse) but a mixed type of worse. He kept calling and texting. (Yeah the classic Nigerian boy style) but I wasn't irritated or putt-off by his calls and messages. In fact, I looked forward to them. Why? Because he had a strange way of lightening ups my mood. But there was a little problem; he didn't like talking about himself or his family. And whenever he had to, he found a maneuvered his way out with understandable excuses. And I also forgot to mention that he sent me a tablet through another delivery man on Thursday and on Friday, he sent a wrist watch. To be sincere, it was too much. But I actually needed a Samsung tablet and a Gucci watch in my life.

That Friday evening, I leaned on my dresser and marveled at the outfit, wig and shoe sprawled on the bed. I was glad that I was over the investigation phase,, now I was just going to enjoy myself at the party. Who was I kidding? I knew, I just knew was bound to happen at the party, judging from the fact that Aisha had been quiet and scarce through the week. I knew she had something up her sleeve, but I was ready. Let's just say I planned on enjoying myself while putting a few people in their place.

I picked my phone up and logged on Facebook. I browsed through my feed for a few seconds before tapping on the messenger icon and then the Yoruba Girls Group chat.

[R] HEY GIRLS! Are you ready for tomorrow?

[T] born ready.

'Of course, why won't you say that? You're going out with my.... Okay, Remi. Stop it!' I told myself. 'She's your friend. Aren't we over this? Didn't she buy you that beautiful wig? Didn't you hug her and squeal "thank you?"'

[L] I'm ready as-