the kids are depressed

•IMA

"Ima wakes up with her fingers crossed..."

It wasn't until when Immanuela got into SS3, that she discovered that the things that actually made her happy about her parents were basically the most random things in the lives of every teenager, like getting a chance to hold the remote control and finally getting a telephone (not a smartphone) at the age of 16. She'd never forget how grateful she'd been when she opened the small box and found the Visafone starting at her; she said it was like a dream come true and that she knelt down and showered prayers upon prayers on them for, giving her the barest minimum of a life of zero exposure. Her words and not mine; personally I don't have issues with her blessing her parents for getting her a phone they could afford—but I know her parents and they drive the latest cars and I think they can afford more than a freaking Visafone though.

"They just like to keep me in a box!" Ima yelled out in frustration to me one afternoon during lunch break. "I'm so sick and tired of these people projecting their fears of life through me—like, let me live my life!" She was truly hurt so I just let her pour her anger out that afternoon

"Maybe they are just more experienced and they want the best for you," I suggested later on during the end of a lecture and she looked at me like I'd just confessed to murder.

"Don't ever say that again, you sound just like my mother when you speak like that. 'Want the best for you' that line alone is so annoyingly possessive. Like, who are you to want the best for me? What about me? Don't I get I say in the affairs of my life?" She had a point and I wasn't going to lie, the thing was that it was almost impossible to win an argument with Ima who was the all time debating champion of our school for 6 consecutive years; and although she didn't like to admit it, she had her parents to thank for this.

On the evening of the day that our excursion was announced, she made the sign of the cross countlessly from her head to her chest before stepping into the sitting room where her parents sat watching the news like their live depended on it.

"Mummy...Daddy, please I have something to say."

The thing about being an only child was that she always had their undivided attention—especially when she never really had a lot to say anyway, so when they heard that she had something to say that evening, it was like they'd heard that Jesus was coming on a certain day. She had their attention, and although this was supposed to make her feel loved, it only contributed to her nervousness for she couldn't even begin to imagine the theory of what she wanted to say that ran through their heads.

Is she pregnant?

Does she want permission to attend a party

Is she pregnant?

God I hope she's not pregnant!

It was written on their faces.

"Are you pregnant?" Her mother confirmed it.

"No, mum." She responded and they sighed in relief in unison. It was very laughable when she replayed it.

"Okay, so,  what do you want to say?" She watched her father settle into his seat, looking more comfortable.

"My school...class is organize a special exposure exercise for the students."

"Does the school know about this?" Her father just had to ask the damned question.

"Not exactly," she confessed.

"What does that even mean?" It was her mother who asked this time around. She always felt like they had both synced into one entity over the years.

"It's not an official exposure exercise, but as long as we have our parents permission, they school have offered to give us the school bus along with a teacher."

"What's this exposure exercise supposed to be about?" Her father pronounced the words 'exposure exercise' just like the way he pronounced the name of the current Nigerian president when he was infuriated.

"Worldly things," her mother snapped and kissed her teeth. Ima groaned inwardly, she already knew that that was a message to her father not to place it up for consideration. What they didn't know was that they'd spent years raising a verbally manipulative young lady.

"We intend to have one last day to relate outside the school environment as we might not be seeing each other after graduation..." she went on to filling her parents head with reasons why she thought the exercise was essential to her and for the first time they had her air her opinion without interruption. I mean, it was the first time she'd stood up to them like that in her entire life. It was an awakening to them that she was not their little princess anymore.

"Are there going to be boys there?" Her mother lowered her glasses.

"Yes mum; but they're also boys in the university I'm going to—and in this street—and in life; I've still not lost my...virginity," when she said this, she said that they gulped at the same time again, "I've been trained well by the both of you to know better about the way of the world, you're just going to have to trust me," she ended and they watched her closely. They knew she had implemented their manipulative technique back at them and they were both impressed and annoyed.

"We've heard you, we'll think about it—you'll know soon."

Soon didn't come up until the morning of that day when she had her fingers crossed, begging God for a miracle when she heard a knock on her door. It was her Dad.

"Get ready for your exposure exercise," now he said the words 'exposure exercise' like how he called her name after he'd received her salary. Her words again and not mine.

IMA: TEMI! It worked! I'm coming!

I received her text and smiled.