The boy they couldn't see

Chapter 1: The female restroom.

All back and a base - (All back - a simple hair weave to the back in a straight and neat column) and (a base - A small weaving down in the front). It's a usual hairstyle done among students in Nigeria.

THE FEMALE RESTROOM

I hurried into the female restroom and a vacant toilet, shutting and locking the door right after. Standing still, I felt my heart race within my chest. The hair on my body was on edge. I could see my hand trembling in fear. My breathing was becoming hard to catch.

For the next few seconds, I stood in silence, waiting, listening, hoping he doesn't find me and at the same time consoling myself with the thought that he wouldn't dare walk into the female restroom.

After a while passed, somehow, I concluded he was gone or better yet, I exaggerated ever seeing him in the first place. Yes, my eyes must have played tricks on me. It would be foolish of me to rule out the possibility of a guilty conscience which developed as a result of having felt a wave of joy upon hearing the sad news. That was it. It had to be it.

I unlocked the door and quietly stepped out, looking left and right, there was not a sight of a single soul. All were in their various classrooms and I'd stepped out of mine with an excuse of using the toilet. My gaze fell on my reflection within the large mirror that hung just above the sinks. My uniform of a milky short-sleeved shirt and dark brown pleated knee-length skirt wore beautifully on me. My tie of exact colour as the skirt had been properly knotted and hung perfectly around my neck. My hair was plaited in the usual all back and a base, the school's hairstyle for the week.

I let out a light sigh. "Get a hold of yourself Rida," I told myself, something I did from time to time to keep myself in check.

Turning on the running water, I kept my hands under it. If I was to sell the story of having used the toilet, I'll need convincing evidence. Having done that, I turned off the faucet and reached into my strap bag for my handkerchief. I found it and lightly wiped my hands with it before looking back up to the mirror.

"Rida."

The familiar image called and I couldn't help the scream that escaped my lips at the sight of him.

Rewind... 3 hours earlier...

I'd woken up as usual to the early morning song echoed from far away through the speakers that hung outside the mosque. I turned on my bed, refusing to accept the fact that it was five in the morning already.

You'll be late for school.

My subconscious reminded and being the little miss perfect that I am, I fluttered my eyes open. Lazily, I sat up. The door opened and Erika, my big sister popped her head in.

"Good, you're up. Come out for devotion." She stated quickly before shutting the door behind her.

Though lazy, I managed to drag myself out of bed. Putting on my slippers, I took hold of my bible on the bedside table and soon made my way out of the room. I went down the stairs and into the living room where everyone except me was already seated.

"Good morning mum, dad, aunt Destiny." I greeted the three adults that resided in the same home as I did.

"Morning." They responded almost in unison as they looked my side.

My dad, ebony with the features of an average early fifties Nigerian male was in one of his familiar pyjamas. His reading glasses laid low on the bridge of his nose and he wasn't one to talk much.

Mum on the other hand did most of the talking; she was the caretaker and author behind the family's daily devotion. She was soft-hearted but also not one to be taken lightly. Her complexion, fairly lighter than dad. Her opened bible laid on her laps and as I took my seat on the sofa beside my older sister, our eyes met for a brief moment.