September 4

It was roughly ten minutes past four, early in the morning and still dark, when I woke up to someone touching my feet.

I know it may feel weird when you are having a crazy dream about falling from the top of a treehouse, and when it seems you are about to land and crash on the ground, you suddenly realize you are on your bed with an intruder romancing your feet. That is how I felt when my cold feet came in contact with foreign hands. I groaned and mumbled to myself, half asleep.

"Perer!" I jerked fully alert at the sound of the treacherous voice above me. It was my sister.

"Christle!" I said in surprise, aware that she had arrived from a night party.

In case you are thinking about her name and feel it is odd and awkward, you are not alone in your silent quest. I feel the same way too. Sometimes, I try to accept a very funny idea I brought up which I think is true. It has something to do with her naming ceremony. I think my parents were probably excited that after all the years of cuddling and spilling bodily fluids all around their large bed, the moments of agony and despair, God eventually answered their pleas and gave them my sister. So in appreciation, they thought of a way to give her back to him.

I know you may be thinking about dedicating Christle to God or confining her in a nunnery for the rest of her life. No! My parents had other ideas and the best way they felt to give back to God was to name her after his son, Christ. And my Mum was of the opinion she should be like him — Christlike! I can imagine my Dad looking at her face, shaking his head and finally rejecting the idea. In the end, they came up with Christle. But those are just my thoughts. The truth may be different. You never can tell.

"Yes, it is your big sister, the one who likes to do wild things," Christle said and smiled in a way that showed only her upper teeth.

I pushed her aside and raised the bedsheets close to my face.

"Are you trying to drive me away from your room?" she asked.

"If I could, I would. You are a pain in the ass," I said.

She looked at me delightedly.

"You are not going to greet me? So you are not interested in asking me how my lectures are going at the university?" Christle smiled again.

"What do you want from me? Can't you see I am all messed up and trying to get my brain to rest?"

Now, you would think she probably might say, "Ok, I am sorry for disturbing you. You can go to bed." Christle was not like that. She was full of life and could dance all day to the sound of one particular song. Now, she is a terror, and every form of torture - no matter how small - gives her a sense of excitement that I really can’t explain because she is abnormal.

"I need some money," Christle said. "The allowance that Mum gave me has finished."

I tried to sit up but she placed her elbow on my knees. I stopped trying.

"I don't have any money if that is why you are here," I said like a child who wanted to go in the rain and play with his peers.

"Can't you get some money for me? Even if it is a few change. I really need the money to survive on the school campus," Christle lowered her head.

"Sorry, does Mum or Dad know you are here?"

I was about to complete my sentence when Christle dragged me closer to her body and hugged me.

Christle was prettier. I could see it. The red lip gloss applied on her lips made them look shinny in the dark. Even the tiny dark spot on her face could not hide her beauty. She was my big sister and the only queen that I knew.

"They don't know I am here," Christle said. 

"How did you get in my room?" I asked.

"Through there."

I murmured as I saw the open window. For chrissake, I thought there comes a time in a girl's life when she starts to know the difference between guys stuffs and girls stuffs. Entering through a window was a guy stuff and there is no exception no matter who you are. In the movies, you don't see a girl sneaking into a guy's room for hedonistic reasons. Rather it is the direct opposite. Guys use the windows not girls.

"Are you not going to get ready for school?" Christle asked, stretching on the bed.

"If you were interested in my life, you would know that school doesn't start for another three weeks."

"Are you going to blame me now for not storing your school records inside my little brain?"

"You have never really been serious since I have known you."

"That is right," Christle agreed.

"How much do you need?" I asked my big sister, reaching out for my trousers. "You know I don't have much."

"A thousand naira will be enough till our parents decides to respect me by sending my weekly allowance."

"Manage this," I said to Christle, giving her the Nigerian note with two great men faces on it.

"Hey, little brother! Sorry for coming in this manner. I will make it up to you when I visit this weekend. I promise," Christle smiled delightedly and threw a kiss in my direction.

I snorted noisily. "See you this weekend."