Hey guys, happy new year!!
I really hope this year turns out well for everyone. How are those resolutions coming along? Mine is to ensure I deliver every week (so help me God) else Deolu will have my head on a platter. As an aside, what kind of adventures would you like to see on Zoé’s Scribbles? Do let me know in the comment section. I’d really love to hear from you.
Anyway, on the newer things. I just realised that as much as Alex features a lot in my stories, I’ve never really told you guys how we met.
Alex was a proper ‘butty’ kid. The kinda girl that everyone secretly hated but wanted to be friends with. Everyone, except me. She attended some boarding school in the United Kingdom and was abruptly withdrawn and sent to Nigeria.
For a child who had lived all 13 years of her life abroad, the culture shock she was experiencing was hilarious at best. Every senior wanted her to be their school daughter while her peers wanted to be seen around her and all for one thing- what they could get from her.
Ironically, they still bullied her verbally and most of the time, you would see her by herself. The other times she was around other people, senior or peer, you could sense her discomfort.
On one of the days I stayed back to read after class because we were in JS3 and Junior WAEC was in a couple of months, I got back to my hostel only to hear voices of my classmates shouting someone down. I thought it was a junior student and was about to go my way when I realised the person was not afraid even though the person wasn’t as loud as the others.
I got to the scene and saw Alex surrounded by our classmates. They looked like they were ready to pounce on her and she looked like she was close to tears.
“What’s going on here na? I don dey hear una voice from matron house. Wetin dey shele?” I asked.
‘No be this one? We dey beg am for biscuit, she no gree. Because we dey beg am?” One of the bullies replied.
To be honest, I couldn’t stand that particular girl.
“Ehn, she talk say she no wan give una. Leave am. Tuckshop never close. Go buy. No be buy force to chop oyibo food”. It was an offence to speak vernacular in school, but most of the students were Ajegunle bred so it was difficult not to catch on fast.
‘Abeg Zo abi wetin be your name, mind your business. Get out of here’. I took a look at Alex and I realised that she had no friend anywhere. Seniors, having realised she wasn’t interested, proceeded to bully her.
The house mistress was only concerned with collecting money and other stuff from her parents but not so much about the well being of the girl put in her care. Alex was all alone.
“Oya, I no dey comot. Get out. Go to your beds. If you don’t, I won’t report to anyone but you won’t like what will happen. Aren’t you ashamed of yourselves? Beggars. I one throat”. I had developed a reputation
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