Rats, Roses And Paper Bones

chapter 18: A piano tale

"Could you lend me your lip gloss?"

Victoria asked as I got ready for Sunday service. I was already dressed in my spanking-white church gown, which, according to the old students, would soon become off-white.

Thankfully, it wasn't oversized anymore. I had slim-fitted it, along with my uniforms, when I went home for the break.

That didn't mean they had stopped calling me Sack Bag Doyin, though.

"Yeah. Check my locker," I replied, pointing to the locker beside my bed.

"Hmmm." She looked me up and down. "I see you're no longer living up to your nickname. I'm impressed. Your clothes actually fit now."

"Hahaha. Very funny. I'm dying."

"Whatever." She reached into my locker. "I need your face powder too."

I watched in horror as she rummaged through my things, tossing everything around.

"Why don't you just borrow my entire locker since you apparently don't own anything?"

She laughed.

"You're so dramatic."

"I'm just saying."

She ignored me and continued digging through my locker.

Typical Victoria.

---

"Have you ever considered joining the choir?"

Victoria asked as soon as the service ended and students began filing out of the chapel.

She must have noticed me staring toward the choir stand throughout the service.

What she didn't know was that I wasn't staring at the choristers.

I was staring at the saxophonist.

Bolaji.

I had no idea he played the saxophone, so seeing him on the altar had caught me completely off guard. His arms were tense as he held the instrument, his lips firmly against the mouthpiece as he played like his life depended on it.

I couldn't help admiring him a little.

It also reminded me of the days my dad used to play clips of Fela, the legendary Nigerian musician, on the television in our living room. He would sing along to the songs in his deep baritone voice while my mum complained that he was being too loud.

Dad would simply laugh and turn up the volume.

Basically, he was actually quite jovial when he wasn't being overbearing.

"Why do you say that?" I asked Victoria.

"Well, you've been staring at the choir stand since praise and worship." She narrowed her eyes at me. "So either you're interested in joining the choir..."

She paused dramatically.

"...or you're interested in someone in the choir."

She winked.

"Cut the nonsense. Let's just get back to the hostel."

I picked up my bag and turned to leave.

"Wait." Victoria grabbed my arm. "I think Michael is coming over."

And so is Bolaji, I thought.

Sure enough, both of them approached us at almost the same time.

"Hey, Doyin," they said together.

I almost laughed.

"Hi, Michael. Hi, Senior Bolaji," Victoria greeted.

Bolaji frowned slightly.