…In my first year as a senior student, I had turned 15. I hated going back to school because, I started getting too noticed, too much attention from incredibly pretty boys in higher classes. I would spend my alowee (pocket money) on them without thinking against it. I enjoyed their attention, and I always flaunted my dimples whenever my handsomeness was praised. I remembered Kayode from my junior class. He was my school father. He was literally like a father figure. Just as a father would boast as to how handsome and intelligent his son was, I was a pride in the midst of his friends. He saved my ass from trouble, and even forfeited some of his meals for me. One thing that was wrong about him was his temper.
So at home, I looked outside my window, my eyes twitching at the sight of the sky, which had a rare dappled section. I felt adorned in my rather too bogus school uniform. It had rained the previous night, and I wanted it to rain all through the morning so that my going back to school might be postponed. I was wrong. But staring at the rainbow now, I had a feeling that something would change my life for good. Why not, it was a new term, and I was entering the senior class. I was going to be recognized even more because, I was maturing. I grew scanty side jars, slight Adams apple, and my voice was changing. It was still soft, but it was changing. I also grew in height, and my hands were incredibly long, decked with manly hairs. I smiled at what I looked like before, and what I looked like now. I particularly was interested in what Kayode would say of me. How he would see my growth, if he would like it or not. I shook my head from such nonsense thoughts, but I was sure it was still there. The puberty feelings I had expected to be sieved had in fact left the most unusual kind of feelings. Feelings I found rather too strange and scary. Maybe I was still in puberty. But for how long though, I thought.
So as certified seniors in college, we were all made to join various social and intellectual societies or clubs. Amongst others, I was particularly interested in joining the Press club, and for socials/sports, I preferred the volleyball team. Working in the press is one thing I had always dreamed of. Plus in a Nigerian home, dads make you listen to the news every time by 8. In as much as I found the contents of the daily 8pm news a bore, I entertained myself by intensely watching the news reporters. The way they dressed, spoke, read through the slides fluently, intonations static, never fluctuating etc. I would sometimes sneak out some of dad’s news papers just to imitate the news reporters. I soon found how well I could read. So it was an easy fit in joining the press club. Then, for the volley ball team, Kayode was the captain of the team. Though I was rather too small and fragile for the game, this urge to impress was always dynamic, and domineering to try. So as I entered the team, height and body frame wasn’t really the nitty gritty. All that mattered was your skills and drive to be perfect. I soon got accustomed to the rules of the game, the skills and with time, I became a pro.
In the team, we had various competitions; we won some, and lost some. But this one particular game meant a lot for Kayode. Every high school had a rival school, so the game was to be played between our school and a rival school. We trained most of the time, because we wanted to dominate. We wanted to show that we were a better school. Kayode pushed us hard and good to put in our best. My admiration grew for his commitment, his strength. Well, everyone in the team felt the same way. They sang him praises for being a great coach and captain. My own admiration wasn’t absurd at that time. I always held his water can whenever it was time out. I started focusing too much and reading too much meaning to every word he said to me. Every brush of our finger, knowingly or otherwise always sent a strange feeling in my stomach. I would smile, he too. One time I made a mad spike, and overjoyed, he pecked me and said ‘that’s my boy’. I would always repeat those words in my head. We were pretty much good to go. We were pretty sure we would win. We even boasted, sent funny messages to the captain of the other school. One bad thing about being too sure is the uncertainty of the future. On the game day, we lost. Just one more mark to victory, but we couldn’t make it. Kayode was furious. He scolded us, he even cried. He hit some who messed up too much, and one of our team mates had had enough…
To be Continued
@Ozzyy @Hanzell @Woolyrhino@Woolyrhino @wakeupkitty @MarcDeMesel @Leo_kitti @Gwenie @gertu13 please tell me what ya'll think about it
This is getting interesting! Wonder if Kayode's gay too.