Preordained #ProjectNigeria

5- It's Maduka to You

Maduka's POV:

A loud scream pierces the air and I turn towards the pool to see a girl splash into the water. Saheed stands near the edge, his hands still in mid air and a mischievous smile on his face.

The girl tries to swim away from his side to mine, diving underneath the surface. Saheed's smile disappears when she doesn't come up for air after almost a minute, and I realise she's drowning. The girls playing in the pool don't even understand what's going on, laughing and thinking that Saheed was playing with his girlfriend.

Quickly, I dive into the water. The flashing lights from the bulbs and people's camera phones briefly illuminate the water, and there she is, sinking to the bottom of the pool with her eyes closed, hair floating around her face. Hooking an arm around her torso, I pull her to the surface and begin to swim towards the edge.

People gather, their attention caught by the scene: me, carrying an unconscious person out of the water. Even DJ Spinall has stopped his music. I shake her by the shoulders, pat her cheeks to rouse her. Her skin is so cold, I take off my blazer and use it to cover the upper part of her body.

Saheed rushes over, shock written all over his face.

"I swear I thought she was joking!"

I ignore him and focus on waking the girl up. Finally, she begins to cough, quickly bends over, and brings up water from her mouth. I rub her back, then yell to the crowd, "Go on with your party; she's fine now."

DJ Spinall's voice booms through the speakers: "Shout out to the girl who fell into the pool! We're so sorry and glad you're fine. Now, the party continues!"

Everyone cheers, and the music resumes.

When she looks up to see Saheed, I notice the fury in her eyes, burning hot despite her shivering.

"You're such a bastard, Saheed!" she yells at him, spilling other words I couldn't hear well because of the music. She tries to get to her feet, but fails and I help her up. She takes off the remaining shoe on her foot and hurls it at Saheed, who dodges it just in time.

Then she collapses against me. I guess she must have been ill before the pool incident because her temperature is rising; I can feel it through my light cotton shirt.

Well, she has to get home. Did she come with someone? Did she have a car? She lets me lead her towards the rest room area. Saheed follows at a safe distance. There, the music isn't too loud and so we can speak normally.

"Are you okay?" I ask her.

She looks up at me fully and I can see that her make up is messed up. Mascara runs down her cheeks in black streams, her red lipstick is smeared, and her powder is dissolved, staining the neck line of her white dress.

"Yes, I'm very fine. Thank you so much for saving me."

Her voice is pleasant, not timid in any way. She looks a bit ashamed of herself, and I understand. Nobody likes to look vulnerable, especially in public.
"Did you come with a friend? She can help you get home. Your temperature is a bit high."

"I'll drive you home," Saheed says from a few metres away.

The girl turns to look at him. "I don't care if you're Wizkid's grandfather or Buhari's son, just get the hell away from me, do you hear me?"

I laugh out loud at her temper and words, but this is short-lived when she sways a little and I quickly move to support her.

"My friend is very far, I guess, because if she had seen me being thrown into the pool, she would have rushed to kill Saheed," she says in a small voice. "Just help me to the roadside, I'll get a taxi from there."