C2 CAGED

Peter looked at me intently and smiled. "There's a reason you're acting this way and I'm going to find out." He brought his pinky finger for a bet and when I didn't lock mine with his, he withdrew his hand and walked away. I heaved a sigh of relief and turned to see if anyone was looking at me — my grandma precisely. Grandma was like a ghost.

I walked to the library and sat at my favourite spot which was at the rear end. I picked up a romance novel and began to read. I wondered what my fate would be should grandma appear right behind me. I would be done for.

The day I discovered I could get novels from the library without being caught was my happiest. Since then, it had served as my temporary abode in school. I made sure to sit at the end of the library to monitor the movements going on around me.

The novels I read exposed me to emotions such as love. Before then, I had shady thoughts about love due to my grandma's frequent argument with my mother each time she came visiting. My grandma accused her often of falling into the pit of teenage crazy love.

I had felt to love was a sin which no one should fall into — except God. I had felt my mother's sin was falling in love so I made up my mind never to fall into that trap.

But the novels I read portrayed love as magnificent; something everyone should experience. It was portrayed as something worth striving for; fighting for; something tender that needed care and attention.

These books exposed me to the opposite sex. Grandma had tagged the opposite sex especially young ones of my age as goats, idiots, destiny takers, wicked souls and other words used to qualify them.

Grandma's regular sermon was to run away from boys for they were animals who cared only about themselves. But in the novels, I saw boys as heroes; heroes who protected their loved ones. They were portrayed as fighters.

Grandma's teachings and these novels were two contrasting metals and I didn't know which to believe.

I guess these were the things my grandma wanted to avoid. This explains her purchasing of Christian novels and science fictions thoroughly scrutinized before handing them to me but what could I do when these books bore me?

As I read the novel, my mind drifted back to what Peter had said. There's a reason you're acting this way and I'm going to find out. What did he mean by he was going to find out? How did he intend to find out? My heart began to thud heavily in my chest. What was he up to? What did he intend to do? It had been long I got into trouble with grandma about a boy. Timothy's incident was the last. Would Peter open up an ancient story?

"He can't do anything. What can he do?" I asked myself and let out a small laugh. I was getting worked up over nothing.

The bell rang then and I discovered I had been on the first page of the book in my hand throughout the lunch hour. I sighed deeply, cussing at Peter under my breath. It was all his fault.

The class was as silent as a graveyard when I returned and I could feel eyes boring holes at various parts of my skin. My heart thudded loudly in my chest but I raised my head high and walked to my seat which was by the wall, next to the window — I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing their stares were bothering me.

The girl whose chair was the closest to mine, moved a bit while I passed so my body wouldn't touch hers. I could hear someone titter when she did that but I ignored them — I never wanted my body to touch her disgusting one too.

There was something weird about the boy sitting at the back of my chair — there was a look of restlessness on his face as he looked at me. It felt like he was waiting expectantly for me to sit.

I was already feeling faint from having the whole class staring intently at me and I wanted nothing but to place my head on my desk so I sat down on my chair nevertheless, only to feel my butt slapping the floor in a loud sound.

A rumble of laughter boomed around me and I felt my cheeks flush in embarrassment. My mind went blank that instance as I heard their laughter in echoes. I could feel someone holding my hand and trying to help me up but I pushed whosoever it was hard in the chest and scrambled to my feet.

I stood still for a moment, looking at my chair which was still intact and everywhere quietened as curious eyes fed on me. I sighed and sat on my chair, playing my book before me like nothing had happened - I won't let them get to me.

It was while I sat that I noticed Peter looking at me intently from the corner of my eyes. I was sure he was the one who had offered to help me up but I couldn't care less. Go away, Peter!

That night as I laid on my bed, the events of the day replayed in my head coupled all that Peter had said but I waved them all off. Peter was a good looking guy and I see the way girls in my class drool over him. I should be extremely glad that he was paying attention to me but I wasn't.

Had thoughts of love flashed into my mind? Yes!

Did I want to experience it? No!

Why?

Because I didn't think a person like me was capable of loving and being loved. I had lost how it felt to love someone. The only person I truly loved was my grandfather and he had passed away when I was only five. Zainab also had been taken away from me. It was clear anyone I love would be taken away so to save me more pain, I wouldn't love.

I still hurt whenever I remembered how Zainab was separated from me. She had been a perfect company and it was for her I knew some TV programmes my friends in school discussed. I enjoyed Zainab's company so much that I looked forward to seeing her but when I returned from Zainab's house one evening, grandma asked me not to meet with her anymore. Her reason being that Zainab could influence me negatively.

"I see the way she behaves; like an untrained child. I also see her when she returns from school. She is accompanied by boys always. You don't need to be with such a person. She could lead you astray. Not only her but other girls your age. You should stay away from them all so as not to be corrupted by sodomy. I'm sure you don't want to end up like your mother."

And just like that, I couldn't see Zainab again. Grandma went as far as warning the gateman not to let her in. Zainab's mother once came to plead with grandma to let us play together since Zainab cried for me but my grandma paid no attention. Her decision was final; I never saw Zainab again. Her family relocated some years back and I didn't get to say goodbye.

Perhaps, I didn't fight harder to be with Zainab. I wondered often if she ever forgave me wherever she was. Ever since she left, my life had been a repetition of a circle. It was like I was reliving each day. Nothing special happened to me. I kept doing the same thing every day. My life was not even triangular. It was parallel. Couldn't my grandma see how unhappy I was?

I miss my grandfather terribly; he was my best friend. He protected me from grandma's barbaric rules and had he been alive, he would never have allowed grandma separate Zainab from me.