After It Happened

Chapter 25: 24

"Ugh. How could I forget the horrible effects of alcohol? I'm meant to be in bed right now nursing a cup

of coffee with my blinds closed."

"Abeg shut up and stop complaining. Was I the one who told you to go to the party? That's what you

get for not bringing me along."

"You obviously didn't want to come. Don't pretend like you didn't know when your brother left for the

party. Plus I'm sure Tola invited you."

"Stepbrother please. And yes your boyfriend invited me, but I didn't feel like coming."

"So stop disturbing me jare."

Yes I am talking to Camille. Obviously, our friendship isn't something she can throw away like that. She NôvelDrama.Org owns all © content.

probably misses me a lot and is in a good enough mood to come to my aid this Monday morning.

Like I predicted today is already going badly. My bones feel like lead and my eyes seem to be unable to

open wide enough. That is probably why I tripped as I was coming up the school steps. Few of the

people around laughed at my expense, but sweet Camille was kind enough to help me up.

"So how was the party? Fun? Crazy? Boring? Just gist me na."

"Tola's sister is in university. Her friends came to celebrate with her. So clearly, it was a college party.

How do you think it was?" I ask with an eyeroll.

"You have come again now. Just tell me how it was biko (please)."

"She has started speaking Igbo by force." The girl can be really persuasive.

"Don't worry I'll give you the full gist later. That is if I remember everything. My memory felt hazy this

morning. Probably the after effect of the drink I took. It's not like I took much sef." I sigh.

"Okay oo. You..."

She is interrupted by the sound of the bell. It's time for our first lesson- English. I drag Camille to the

classroom which is on the other side of school as I all but run to class. Ever since Miss Peters gave me

Danielle, she's been paying more attention to me. Always talking about my potential as a great writer. I

can't say that I'm not starting to like it. Plus her classes can be really enjoyable most times especially

when she talks about African literature. She has this animated look on her face and happily talks until

the period is over. I think she forgets that she has an audience. Most of my classmates use the

opportunity to catch some z's. I'm not excluded of course. Sleep is too sweet.

By the time we step into our English class, Miss Peters is already there writing the day's topic on the

board. I squint at my purple watch trying to see the time through my slightly blurred view.

8:05.

The woman is too early na. Camille and I along with few other late students stand at the door waiting to

be invited in. It is common courtesy as the teachers find it rude to simply walk into their class when they

are ready to teach.

"Why is she so early today kwanu?" Camille whispers voicing my thoughts.

I reply with a shrug of my shoulders. Miss Peters finally turns and sees us; she waves us in. I mumble a

Good Morning as I walk past her to my seat.

"How many of you have read the book I assigned?"

The hum of everyone talking lowly at once can be heard but noone raises a hand. Not even Kelechi.

Wait.

"Where is your brother?" I turn to Camille.