Immediately I put my phone on on Thursday morning there's six texts from Chideziri waiting for me. On my SIM, not social media where I could have missed them. That's heavy. That smells like trouble and its big brother. I sweep through them, each one telling me to lay low and meet him at school, first thing in the morning, and that if my Dad asked any weird questions I shouldn't even bother to play dumb, because he already knows about us. I return the call, it goes through, but no one picks the phone up. Chideziri's waiting for me by the side of a brick layered pillar when I get there. He snatches up my hand and drags me along the corridor, past SS1 Block, SS2,and then SS3 to the back. The back of the senior secondary block is quiet mostly. It's more of a fence than a backyard, with fancy holes letting in pockets of rays into the school. It's Little feats' hot spot, obviously. Writings cover the interiors, splayed across bricks like webs. Giant
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