 
FABIOLA

M.T.Xaviere

By M T Xaviere.

Copyright 2017 M T Xaviere

Smashwords Edition.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Author, except where permitted by the law.

This novel is a work of fiction. Certain long-standing institutions, places, and tribes are mentioned, but any resemblance to persons, living or deceased is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Author's Note

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty one

Chapter Twenty two

Chapter Twenty three

Chapter Twenty four

Chapter Twenty five

Chapter Twenty six

Chapter Twenty seven

Chapter Twenty eight

Chapter Twenty nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty one

Chapter Thirty two

Chapter Thirty three

Chapter Thirty four

Chapter Thirty five

About the Author

To little Joanna, who is of late.

Author's Note

Note that this novel contains Lingua Franca—slangs or Pidgin English from Cameroon. Look for meaning of informal speech or slangs in the footnotes. Some recurring slangs and easily translated Pidgin English sentences are marked with asterisks.

CHAPTER ONE

September 1999.

Fabiola found herself among strangers, in unfamiliar territory, far from home, and outside her scope of childish imagination. Rather than panicking, she felt giddy with excitement and overwhelmed by curiosity at what lay behind the iron-clad gates of the St Francis Girls' Vocational High School (GVHS) Bafut, Cameroon. Behind her, taxis swamped the untarred Bafut road, honking and screeching as they dropped off children and parents in their numbers. Her feet were bouncing off the ground from anxiety to step inside the threshold of her new home.

The oxblood coated bars stood wide open in invitation to its newcomers, offering a first view of something that seemed too fresh to question. The crowd milled back and forth at an animated pace leaving in its wake a trace of something thrilling and puzzling. The taxi driver gave Fabiola and her mother a hand in carrying her belongings into the campus that consisted of a trunk, duffel bag, mattress, lance, broom, and a bucket.

The campus was not as big, or as elegant as expected, but Fabiola felt an aura of antiquity and notability embedded in its infrastructure. The first thing her gaze landed on was a simple bungalow hyphenating the wall and the structures. Completed by a large assembly ground at the front, the building faced off in the adjacent direction and had "administrative" written all over it. On the opposite end of the campus was a two-storey building with a beautiful spiral staircase sweeping down its front.

The campus was 10 acres fenced and surrounded by trees, especially at the back and shared boundaries with another compound at the front. It was not the size, or the outlook that Fabiola found fascinating; it was the future into which she was preparing to be plunged. The atmosphere reeked of suspense and hidden adventure.

An older girl walked up to Fabiola and her mother and said, "Welcome to the St Francis Girls' Vocational High School. I will be your guide." She apologised for the inconvenience and insisted on checking Fabiola's belongings. "Cooked food from home, electronic gadgets, makeup, jewellery, and assorted clothing are not allowed in the school," she said to them. Processed foods were the only foods allowed. She smiled contentedly when she did not find unsanctioned items among Fabiola's belongings and offered to show them the way.

There were a few more girls of a similar rank offering the same kind of help to the other newcomers. Unlike the black skirt, white T-shirt, and low haircut the school prospectus had instructed Fabiola wear to school, these girls looked formidable in pristine white gowns and fresh crowns of cornrows. What fascinated Fabiola most about these girls was the grace with which they carried themselves. She envied them, their refinement, and somewhere in the back of her mind she wanted to be just as beautiful and just as curvy one day.

Observing these girls, Fabiola felt intimidated for the first time since allowing herself to dwell in the reality of going to a boarding school. She and her mother followed the usher down a footpath separating the wall and the building Fabiola assumed was the administrative block. Behind the block were other identical bungalows, initially concealed, one to the left on the opposite end of the campus and another to the right, whose footpath they currently walked.

Three freshly mowed lawns stood in the middle of the campus, one vacant and two aligned with clotheslines. Other smaller buildings took up space at the foot of the campus, one with a cloud of black smoke coming from its chimney, which Fabiola assumed was the kitchen. Food was the furthest thing on her mind. Because of anxiety, she hadn't eaten since the previous night, no matter how many times her mother insisted, or tried to force food down her throat. The prospect of boarding school and of leaving home for the first time had her so excited it consumed her appetite.

Each door in the row had a nametag and leading steps, locked and undisturbed, save for the last door where a crowd seemed to flock. The plaque on the designated door read, "St Clare" in bold letters.

"This is your dormitory. Go in, choose a bed, unpack, and settle in," the usher said to Fabiola and her mother. The entrance of the dormitory like the entrance of the school was boisterous with activity.

When the usher excused herself and walked away, Fabiola and her mother pushed their way into the dormitory. A few steps in, Fabiola stopped to stare at the busy interior. The room was expansive, almost like a hall, with high ceilings, concrete walls, inbuilt lockers at the back and a double set of windows on both ends. The interior decor was military barrack style; spring bunks placed in three rows and each row hyphenated by a narrow path. A big smile split Fabiola's face as she took in the scene, every detail matching her fantasy of what a dormitory should look like. A girl with a bucket brushed past Fabiola, shouting over the screeching of spring against concrete. She apologised curtly to Fabiola and went on her way.

The idea of owning a bed all to herself without having to share with her siblings had Fabiola grinning like an idiot. Most of the beds in the dormitory were already taken, and the fear that they might not find a bed led them to the first empty bed they saw.

"I want an upper bunk," Fabiola said disapprovingly when her mother decided on a lower bunk. Her mother brushed her off saying that it wasn't safe to sleep in the sky. She said that Fabiola could fall from the bunk and hurt herself. Fabiola glared a hole in her mother's back.

I want a bunk!

"Fabiola!" someone yelled from the back of the dormitory just as Fabiola started to assist her mother unpack. Confused, Fabiola's eyes searched the chaotic interior for the origin of the voice.

"Yvonne?" Fabiola cried in disbelief when her best friend, Yvonne, darted down the path and flung herself at Fabiola.

"Oh my God, you came! We haven't seen each other since June, and I didn't know whether you were coming or not!" Yvonne panted.

"I didn't think you were coming either!" Fabiola cried when Yvonne pulled back and held her at arm's length while two pairs of little feet bounced excitedly off the floor. Fabiola stared at her friend unable to grasp the reality that she was actually standing there. What were the chances that she would end up in a place like this, thousands of miles away from home with someone she had spent almost every day of her childhood with?

"I thought I would never see you again." Yvonne pouted before engulfing Fabiola in another heated hug.

"Me too." Fabiola sighed, burrowing deeper into the hug. A few seconds later, Yvonne released Fabiola and greeted her mother. Their families were close until a year ago when Yvonne's family moved. Bidding goodbye was the hardest thing Fabiola ever had to do.

"Come quick. There is an empty bed next to mine." Yvonne beamed, pulling Fabiola towards the back of the dormitory heedless of her mother's protests. They shoved their way through the cramped path, deeper into the dormitory, and came to a halt in front of a bunk on the second row.

"This is my bunk." Yvonne flaunted an already made bed.

"You have an upper bunk?" Fabiola asked in awe.

"Yes and you can have this one," Yvonne said, pointing at the only vacant bunk in the section and the bunk next to hers.

When Fabiola did not say anything, Yvonne climbed the steps leading to her bunk and hauled a suitcase unto the empty one.

"I just marked this bed. Everyone will know that it's taken." Yvonne winked racing back down the steps towards Fabiola. Fabiola was flabbergasted by Yvonne's brazenness when Yvonne announced her claim to the bystanders given that Fabiola could barely utter a word for fear of sounding out of place. It was on the tip of Fabiola's tongue to say that her mother would not approve of an upper bunk when she walked up to them. She told Yvonne the same thing she had told Fabiola about the dangers of sleeping in the sky, and both girls wore wounded looks.

"Please," they said at the same time.

"We promise we will not fall from the bunk," Yvonne pressed. "I heard some students saying that it is not safe to sleep by the door. They said that it is too cold at night, and that those who slept by the door are likely to become Krush-Krush's victims." Yvonne's voice had dropped to a whisper and her eyes dilated as if she was voicing top-secret information.

Fabiola's mother looked doubtful.

Fabiola stamped her foot on the ground. "I want to sleep next to Yvonne!"

"Ok," her mother gave in. Both girls squealed, earning a few disgruntled looks from those nearby.

An hour later, the dormitory was filled to the brim and Fabiola was almost settled in. The older girls in pristine white gowns came around politely informing the parents that it was time for them to leave. It took a while but eventually the parents started leaving the dormitory.

***

By 1.30pm, Yvonne, Fabiola, and her mother found themselves standing with the crowd at the front of the school, time to bid farewell. The students were not allowed outside the gates; the furthest they could go was to the iron bars to either watch their parents board taxis, or wave them goodbye. Yvonne, it seemed, had arrived earlier than most, which explained why her mother had already left and why she seemed acquainted with the environment.

"I will be back on Visiting Day. Take good care of each other until then, do you hear me?" Fabiola's mother was saying, tears sparkling in her eyes. Fabiola and Yvonne nodded obediently. They stood hand in hand, unwilling to let go of each other. Fabiola's mother pressed a 2,000 CFA franc note into the palm of Fabiola's hand and said, "Use it if you need anything, ok?" Fabiola nodded gratefully.

It was all happening too fast for Fabiola. She was in a strange place, her mother was about to leave her behind for the first time in her life, she had her best and oldest friend in one hand, and more money than she knew what to do with in the other hand. All around her, students and parents alike were engaged in tearful farewells, with some making big scenes like refusing to let go. Fabiola felt overwhelmed by it all. Maybe her lack of dejection was Yvonne, or she naturally not being an emotional child. Even locked in her mother's warm embrace in the final moment, a part of her kept wishing for her mother to hurry up and leave so she could go back to exploring her new home.

She watched her mother leave head pressed between two iron bars of the school gate. A strained breath she had not realised she was holding escaped her when her mother waved her goodbye for the final time through the stained rear window of the moving taxi. She did not even notice that she was gripping onto the iron bars for dear life until she felt Yvonne's reassuring touch on her shoulder. She let go and gripped Yvonne's hand instead. Then she took a deep calming breath and turned away from the gate, mentally bidding her old life goodbye and embracing a new and uncertain future as she walked back towards the St Clare's Dormitory. Towards her new home.

### CHAPTER TWO

Back in the dorm, the chaos was still unravelling although at a calmer pace. While the freshmen got acquainted with the environment, they ignored each other for the most part. Having already picked a locker and made her bed with a white sheet and blanket of her choosing as stipulated in the school prospectus, Fabiola went on to separate her belongings. She stashed her books and other handy items in her locker and secured it with a lock and a nametag. She turned down Yvonne's suggestion to choose one of the inbuilt lockers at the back of the dormitory because she preferred the convenience of the twin lockers wedged between the snug bunk spaces.

She put her school uniforms and other clothing in the duffel bag, locked, and placed it on the locker for easy access. Her snacks and other belongings that were not urgently needed went back into the trunk. Again, Yvonne suggested that she place her trunk on top of the inbuilt lockers at the back as was the common style, but Fabiola preferred to push the trunk under her bed. Her shoes and toiletries—in a small pail, inside a bucket—also went under the bed.

Fabiola was prone to identifying change by smell, and everything around her smelled different. Home had a distinct and familiar scent, one deep-seated into her senses. The school scented unlike anything she was used to; almost like new fabric, new people, all summing up to an unidentifiable essence that left her stomach a jumbled mess of knots and nerves

Putting her things in order took nearly an hour and by 3.30pm things had quieted down. At this point, the initial tension and scepticism had eased, and the students were finally relaxed enough in the environment to begin acknowledging each other. They ran on naught other than being told to choose a bed and get settled in. Naivety and the fear of isolation drove them to seeking out an anchor, a friend, an accomplice, someone to tell them what would happen next, or what to do in case of. It had become clear to them that the strangers with whom they now found themselves were part of an imposed new family. Fabiola and Yvonne, however, were too absorbed in the bliss of reunion to acknowledge, or partake in the struggle around them.

The chiming of a bell nearby had everyone frozen in their places. The freshmen looked around questioningly while it continued for twenty seconds then stopped. They were not granted the liberty to speculate because the chiming was immediately followed by banging on the dorm door.

"Everyone on your feet!" a stern voice commanded as a group of older girls, definitely not of the freshmen category, marched into the dormitory, the insane-snow-white of their garments almost blinding.

The freshmen jumped to their feet armed with curiosity and fear. The intruders circled the dormitory menacingly and authoritatively like military generals. The politeness towards the freshmen in the presence of parents was now gone. Instead, there was a foreboding sternness revealed to aid the freshmen's grasp of the predicament in which they now found themselves. It was applied with enough intensity to make each of them want to piss and shit their pants.

"On a count of one to thirty, I want every fox clad in her white attire," the leader of the group ordered.

No one moved. Because no one understood a word she said.

Clad? Fox?

"Now!" she barked. "I am counting. One, two!" The freshmen looked to each other, desperate and clueless. "Eight, nine!"

Fabiola had no idea who the source was but word circulated among a minority in the first row and everyone subsequently plunged into action imitating the clued-up.

"Quiet, foxes!"

Unfortunately for Fabiola, her space could barely fit two. Her space-mate was older than she was, much bigger in size, and took advantage of Fabiola's petite eleven-year-old frame to bully her way towards the valise and duffel first. Fabiola had no choice but to fall behind and wait, squirming on the verge of tears and sensing that everyone but herself was making progress. Just as she squeezed her way to her duffel and pulled out her white gown, it was already a second too late.

"Everyone line up beside your beds. Now!" Fabiola was still fumbling with the hem of her dress, trying to pull it over her head. "You! Do you think you're special?" It took Fabiola a second to realise that the leader of the group was talking to her.

"And you, and you, and you. I said thirty seconds!" The bullying continued. Fabiola ran to the line.

"Did I not just ask you a question?" The leader walked up to stand in front of Fabiola, ebony features fuming with distaste. "Do. You. Think. You. Are. Special?"

Fabiola faltered and then burst into tears.

"Oh lookie here. All hail the crying baby!" the leader ridiculed, and her mates joined in and laughed at Fabiola. Some of the freshmen chuckled along and then the laughter suddenly seized. "Who just laughed?" the leader demanded in a deadly tone, abandoning her quest to walk purposefully down the path. "Do you girls think this is a joke? Do I amuse you? Who laughed just now?"

"Was it you? Or you, or you?" a couple of the other senior girls spoke up, pointing fingers at some of the freshmen. The accused shook their heads seemingly on the verge of tears.

"Who opened their dirty fangs?" They resumed circling the dormitory, pinning each freshman with a look.

"Expose the culprit now, or be punished as a group," the leader said, halting in the middle of the dormitory to wait. "Tick tock, tick tock."

"It was her!" the freshman closest to the door cried, pointing a finger at another girl on the second row.

"That's a lie. It was her," the accused fired back at the accuser.

The finger-pointing turned into a contagion, and a majority of the freshmen turned on each other. By the end of the finger-pointing bout, most of the freshmen were crying from being implicated in one way or another.

"Quiet!" the leader growled, retaining order in the room.

"Let this serve as a warning to you all. You answer only to the name fox, submit when given an order, speak when spoken to, and cry when laughed at. Do I make myself clear?"

The foxes mumbled a "yes."

"And that is 'yes, senior' for you. Address your elders with some respect!"

"Yes, senior."

"What was that?"

They shouted, "Yes, senior!" in unison.

A moment of silence followed, and the seniors marched out of the dormitory leaving behind a rattled lot and an uncertain stillness.

CHAPTER THREE

Fabiola's hands were still trembling and tears were streaming down her cheeks long after the seniors departed. Apart from the thwarted expectations of what she'd imagined boarding school would be, the encounter with the seniors had her reconsidering her present situation. Usually, this was the part where her mother intervened; when the kids at school, or the neighbourhood, were giving her trouble. The urge to go running and screaming in the direction of the gates for her mother to come back suddenly seemed very appealing. She had not entertained the possibility of wanting to leave in the throes of her excitement in getting here, but she suddenly missed the familiar norms of home and longed for its comfort and security.

"Can I borrow your soap? I left mine at home."

Fabiola blinked when she realised that someone, a fox like herself, was addressing her. She had missed the fox's first words while wallowing in self-pity. A quick look around made her feel a little silly for her outburst with the seniors because her mates seemed to have bounced back already. Embarrassed, she hastily ducked under her bed and emerged with a bar of soap, subtly wiping away at the remainder of the tears in her eyes. "Here, have it." She held out the soap to the girl.

"Thanks." The girl accepted the soap with a big smile. "I will return it as soon as I'm finished."

When the girl retreated, Fabiola mounted her bunk to find Yvonne glaring daggers at her from across the small space separating their beds.

"Do we know her?" Yvonne fired the minute Fabiola was settled on the bed. "Why are you sharing your things with her?"

"I am not sharing my things," Fabiola said. "Besides, she'll return it as soon as she's done."

Yvonne rolled her eyes with a huff and leaned towards Fabiola. "I cannot understand why someone would beg for common soap. Did she not know that she would need soap in school? Our needs were clearly listed in the school prospectus!"

"Ay! Yvonne, she said she left hers at home by accident," Fabiola whispered back defensively.

"That is a lie and you know it. Beggars lie to you, make you feel sorry for them, then you give them everything you own and at the end of the day you are left with nothing. What choice will you have then? Become a beggar too?"

"Relax, it's just soap," Fabiola hissed.

"I'm just saying. Don't come begging for mine when you're destitute."

Fabiola rolled her eyes and collapsed on her bunk.

Yvonne did the same, fuming.

A few minutes later, a girl walked up to Yvonne and said, "Yvonne, can I borrow your two-rope?"

Yvonne spun to glare at the girl. "No! Go and buy your own pair of slippers and stop begging. I refuse to share my things with people!" she yelled at the girl, not caring that her voice was too high and that people were staring.

Fabiola watched in stunned disbelief as the girl retreated, ridiculed. "Yvonne. That was not a very nice thing to do," Fabiola said.

"They should stop begging for our things. First, it's soap, now, it's two-rope.* What's next? My trunk? Did they not know that they were coming to school? Beggars!"

Fabiola could only stare at her friend. Yvonne was usually the naughty do-gooder and Fabiola, the pig-headed one.

Fifteen minutes later, the girl Yvonne had shunned returned, seeming more pissed than ridiculed. "I hear the two of you have been gossiping about me," the girl accused, meaning Fabiola and Yvonne.

"We did not gossip about you," Fabiola said, gaze shifting confusedly from Yvonne to the girl.

Yvonne nodded, saying, "We did not gossip about anybody."

"I heard the two of you calling her a beggar just now." Fabiola's bunkmate surprised Fabiola by rising from the lower bunk to contribute to the accusation. Fabiola gaped at her bunkmate. She had not taken the time before to scrutinise the two girls confronting both she and Yvonne, but on a closer look, Fabiola realised that unlike a majority of the girls in the dormitory that were her age and size, these girls looked a little too old to be in form one and scary too. If not for the low haircuts, Fabiola would have assumed they were seniors. She panicked at the pair looking to devour her, secretly cursing Yvonne's flippancy and wishing she had stuck with her mother's choice of a bed. That section of the dormitory as she was coming to realise was crawling with angry, mature-looking girls—all watching—all waiting.

"I heard them gossiping too. They have been gossiping since morning," another voice spoke up in the section.

Fabiola spun to identify the source, but she could not see anything through the choked alignment of spring beds. Her shoulders slumped when the accusations kept coming. She opened her mouth to defend herself, but everyone was talking at the same time; talking at her and pointing fingers. Coming from a family that showered her with love in abundance, Fabiola was a stranger to the hateful glares directed her way and to how everyone seemed to believe the worst of her without giving her a chance to explain. Wishing for home or for her mother's constant protection in the face of antagonism had become cliché; she just wished the ground would open up and swallow her.

"Do you have any idea who I am?" The soap-girl from earlier joined the angry mob. She was one of the older birds as well, and she seemed angrier than the rest. Fabiola searched her mind for what she'd done to incur the girl's wrath and came up blank.

"My name is Atabong Atem. I am from Fontem, and I will show you people something. Nobody gossips about me and goes free," the soap-girl kept threatening, over and over, amid the string of allegations, as if stating her name and where precisely she was from was crucial information to Fabiola and Yvonne.

The opposition reached a point where Fabiola was certain that the now group of five angry girls intended to beat them to death. She turned to Yvonne and saw the same look of panic on Yvonne's face.

"Fa, let's go outside," Yvonne said, cautiously climbing down from her bed and motioning for Fabiola to do the same. They inched from their bunks, carefully made their way through the mob, and ran out of the dormitory, the words "My name is Atabong Atem. I am from Fontem and I will show you people something"* chasing them like the rain.

CHAPTER FOUR

After fleeing the dormitory, Fabiola and Yvonne did not have long to hide out. An hour and thirty-five minutes of solitude hiding near a lump of rotting wood behind the school kitchen, the chiming of a bell nearby propelled them in the direction of the dormitory mindless of the reason they'd flee in the first place. The foxes had been summoned to a place called the "refectory" and were expected to go along with "cutlery". After a while spent deciphering the senior's grammar, word spread among the foxes that they were required to take a plate, spoon, fork, knife, and cup along.

It was dark outside when Fabiola and Yvonne followed the clueless crowd down a dimly lit footpath, past the three manicured lawns to a more distinctive single bungalow on the other side of the campus. The building stood apart from the other buildings on the school campus. It had an imposing structure with leading steps sweeping its frontage and a pitched roof. The broad steps led into a grand hall aligned with three columns of wooden tables and benches. The foxes filled into the room excitedly, barely making up a quarter of its expansive interior. At the front of the room was a raised platform and at the end, a cut-off section labelled "pantry". The hall had two double doors on the front wall that added to its grandeur. The cream painted walls parted in two sections on each side to accommodate a set of windows completed with stained louvres. A quarter of the louvres, especially at the back were either broken or replaced with wooden boards.

The two seniors in charge stopped the girls from segregating by guiding them to team up in groups of six per table across the three different columns. Fabiola and Yvonne ensured a good distance between themselves and the bullies before sitting down with four other girls on one of the battered tables visibly worn with use and time. On a rough count, Fabiola assigned a number to the crowd of at least forty girls. Once the girls were seated, the rustling of feet at the door announced more seniors, poised and austere as ever. Their entrance thickened the atmosphere with unease and tension, causing Fabiola to hold her breath and wait. A group of eight seniors marched to the stage, hands clasped uniformly behind their backs, sparing none of the foxes a look.

One of the seniors clapped three times and called out, "Rise!"

The foxes hurried to obey and waited patiently on their feet. A minute passed and nothing happened. The foxes took turns aiming expectant glances at the door and at the stage. Two minutes later, there was a commotion at the entrance followed by another clap of hands.

"Bow and do not look up until you are told to," the same authoritative voice as before ordered.

The foxes obeyed.

"You may rise," the voice continued when someone walked into the refectory and went unto the stage. "Do not make eye contact with the senior prefect, and do not move or make a noise while she addresses you."

Fabiola was feeling a little lightheaded from the submissive gesture when her eager gaze travelled to the stage. The object of mystification was a tall chocolate-skinned girl with eyes as piercing as knives and a figure as slender as a sculpture. It was hard not to notice, or identify the girl as the top dog, embodied with a unique beauty, grace, and a subtle dominance that set her apart from the other seniors surrounding her like guard dogs. Where the other seniors came off as standoffish, she outclassed them with an artless vibe of commanding respect and recognition. Her hands were neatly folded behind her back like the others, and she appeared neither friendly nor intimidating. Too stunned by her person to be objective, the foxes watched as she took two sure steps forward and addressed them.

"Good evening girls and welcome to the St Francis Girls' Vocational High School. My name is Nabila Laura, and I am your senior prefect. You can call me Senior Laura." Her voice like the rest of her person carried over the refectory in a firm tone, soft and gentle, each sentence cultured and with practised ease. The smile on her face was neither too obvious nor obscure; just enough to pull the audience in. Her colleagues edged away to give her room.

"I apologise for not introducing myself earlier. I was engaged in other matters concerning your welfare," she said. "I know how overwhelming and terrifying the first few days of boarding school can be. I bet a few of you have thought about calling it quits by now but trust me, boarding school only gets better. The prefects are here to assist you, so feel free to ask questions and guidance.

"Did you know that this school was founded by the Tertiary Sisters of St Francis, also known as the Franciscan Sisters?"

"No, senior!" the foxes responded in chorus to the senior's question, hanging onto her every word.

"There are thousands of girls in the world," she said, "willing and unable to go to school. I want you to know how lucky you are to become a part of this prestigious institution and to always be thankful to the powerful men and women who made education an option for you. Make them proud.

"I know that you are all hungry, and it will be rude of me to keep you waiting. Note that the room in which you find yourselves is called the refectory. This is where you will eat from now on. See the refectorians with questions concerning food or the refectory." She pointed at the two seniors closest to her; the same ones who had assigned the foxes seats earlier.

"Permanent tables will be assigned to you once the rest of the students get here, but in the meantime, maintain this order. I need two girls from each table to follow the refectorians to the kitchen."

More than two girls volunteered per table, which made Senior Laura smile—a brief twitch of the lips. After a pickle, a few of the foxes followed the refectorians outside and returned a minute later, each carrying a big steaming silver pot.

Fabiola was more interested in the process than in the food. Her anxiety from earlier was chased away by Senior Laura's reassuring words and calming presence. The foxes found the courage to start whispering among them. A silver pot each was placed at the centre of the working tables. Instructions about placing the plates on the table before them followed. A fox from each table was assigned to serve her mates.

"Sit upright and place your hands on the table before you," Senior Laura instructed coming off the stage to mingle with the foxes. Her colleagues did the same.

"You are no longer the unrefined little kids you were outside these walls. You are now on your way to becoming established women. From now on, you will walk, talk, eat, and act like a lady. Place the food directly in front of you. Pick up the fork with your left hand and the knife with your right."

Fabiola stared at the silverware weaponry in front of her.

"Now dig into your food. No, no, no, do not rush it. Soften your poise. Dig in gently. Chunk your food neatly into small bites and use the fork to put the food in your mouth. Don't switch hands, and don't open your mouth too wide. Slowly, slowly, gracefully. It is not a race. Take your time. Breathe."

At one point, Senior Laura used a fox to demonstrate her meaning. By then the girls had gotten over the initial fear of making eye contact and Senior Laura did not seem to mind. Even the other seniors did not seem as ruthless anymore.

Fabiola's shoulders slumped, and she sighed frustrated after several failed attempts at trying to eat like a lady. She usually just went with a spoon in the right hand, never imagining that eating could entail that much work. A quick look around the _re-fec-to-ry_ ensured that her mates were having the same trouble with— _what was the word again? Ah! Cut-le-ry._

"Good work girls, keep going," Senior Laura kept encouraging. "You are doing well. Remember, you don't have to put so much effort into it. It has to come naturally."

Twenty minutes later when the foxes were perceived to have finished eating, or rather finished littering the table tops and floors with rice, Senior Laura asked them to stand for grace.

"Each table in this refectory has a number," she continued after grace. "Check and memorise the number on your table and assign yourselves numbers as well starting with one to six as proportioned per table. You are expected to maintain that order every time you come to eat."

Fabiola's vocabulary was limited, and she had trouble understanding the fancy words and sophisticated sentences used by the seniors. What she did was pick out the simple words and sentences, strung them together, and followed the crowd.

"The assigned number one on each table cleans the pot and tidies up tonight. Number two will take care of the task tomorrow, then number three the next day, and so on, until the numbering recommences. Understood?"

"Yes, senior!"

"Proceed to the pantry in an orderly fashion and take care of your plates."

Fabiola followed the crowd to the _pan-try_ and found that the pantry was a section of the refectory reserved for washing dishes and stacking silverware. Under the refectorian's watchful eye, the foxes lined up, pressed between shelves and huge sinks for a turn to wash their plates.

"After washing your cutlery, take it with you to the dormitory. Once in the dormitory, change into your night attire and repose for the night. Do so quietly," the refectorian's voice carried over the noise in the pantry.

CHAPTER FIVE

Fabiola was among the last people to leave the refectory. Only a few students lingered outside. A faceless girl ran past in the direction of the dormitory and Fabiola started to follow. She was probably late. She would have done just that if a group of three girls hadn't walked up and block her path. Fabiola looked at the girls suspiciously and tried to sidestep but they were onto her. Panic gripped her when a quick glance around ensured that they were the only ones outside and that she was outnumbered. A mental calculation also confirmed that the dormitory was too far away for anyone to hear her screams in case.

"Let me pass," Fabiola said desperately. The group of three caged her in instead. A part of her was relieved to see that it wasn't the bullies from earlier. She recognised one of the girls vaguely; the rest she had not met before, but all of them seemed to be around her age, taller and mean-looking.

"Grandmami-face!"the tallest of the girls spat in Fabiola's face causing her friends to snicker.

Fabiola glared at her attacker, deeply hurt by the insult.

"You have a grandmother's face," her attacker snarled stepping close, right into Fabiola's space, her growing cruelty fuelled by the wounded look on Fabiola's face. Her friends burst out laughing when Fabiola burst into tears. The more tears Fabiola spilled, the more they jeered at her. Blinded by tears and hurting deeply, Fabiola clutched her cutlery tightly to her chest, pushed through, and ran as fast as her feet could carry her, the sound of mocking laughter following her all the way.

The dormitory was active with girls preparing to settle for the night when Fabiola pushed through the door. The girl closest to the door took one look at Fabiola and asked her why she was crying. Fabiola ignored the girl and went on her way. As she walked further into the dormitory, she realised that she was the only one crying. Everyone else seemed contented with just going to bed. She also realised that she'd cried more in the last seven hours than she'd ever cried in her entire life. Granted, boarding school was a direct contrast to the reverend sisters' campaign promises at her old school and her mother had said explicitly never to discredit the word of an anointed man or woman of God, but this was her reality now and there was no rescue on the way.

With newfound resolve, she wiped angrily at the tears running down her cheeks and by the time she reached her space, her face was a mask of indifference. She sent a meaningful glare her bunkmate's way before striding to her duffel while ignoring the eyes she could see on the periphery of her vision glaring from the row across. Her new nightdress smelt faintly of okrika and felt strangely soft on her skin.

"Let me see your nightie," Yvonne chimed excitedly the second Fabiola climbed into bed.

"My what?"

"Your nightie. That is what the other girls are calling it," Yvonne said, meaning Fabiola's nightdress. Yvonne went ahead to emphasise her point by standing on her bunk to flaunt the floral nightdress she wore.

Fabiola shrugged with indifference and knelt on her bunk to show off her nightdress as well. Unlike Yvonne's, Fabiola's was a simple blue satin nightdress with thin strips and a band at the waist to keep the whole thing from falling off her bony frame. Her mother's choice.

"It's nice, but mine is nicer. Mine has more colours," Yvonne stated, coming back to lie on ruffled sheets.

Yeah, right!

Fabiola's eye roll was discreet. The truth was that Fabiola was not that much into bright colours and she'd never envied Yvonne's love for colourful things.

"Stop the noise! Everyone on your bunk!" a masculine voice interrupted from somewhere in the dormitory.

The foxes immediately responded to the deep baritone of the voice.

"My name is Ngala Geraldine, and I am your dormitory captain," the intruder's voice boomed on, accompanied by the emergence of the most masculine girl Fabiola had ever seen. The owner of the voice mounted the bunk at the far end and towered over the dormitory. She was dressed in navy blue pyjamas that seemed too small for her gigantic frame. Immediately, Fabiola sensed an arrogant display of power that was only associated with the seniors. The hairstyle only fortified the fact. Judging from the blank looks on the foxes' faces it was clear that none of them had met the intruder before that moment.

"By dormitory captain, I mean I run this dormitory. It also means that I own you."

The foxes whispered among themselves, but no one said anything outright.

"From this moment hence, I tell you when to breathe, when to talk, when to laugh, when to cry, when to piss, and when to shit, and I'm telling you to go to sleep, now!" Every word she said was accompanied by tomboyish gesticulation. "By the count of twenty, everyone should be under the blanket!"

The curtness with which the order was issued had every fox faking sleep by the count of twenty.

"Hey!" the dormitory captain's voice cut through the silence a minute later, causing every fox to double check their status. "The three girls who just walked in, close the door behind you and come this way."

Footsteps marched up the path towards the last bed on the last row, towards the dormitory captain. Fabiola peeked from under her pillow.

"Where are you coming from?" the dormitory captain asked the latecomers, looking down from her throne.

"Senior, we were—" one of the latecomers started saying. Fabiola recognised the voice instantly and sat up slightly and discreetly to peer in the direction of the voice. It was the girl from earlier; the girl who had called Fabiola's face grandmami-face* and closely behind her were her two friends.

"Get on your knees and creep to my space, now!" the dormitory captain ordered, descending from her throne.

"Senior, please. We were just—"

"Cover that bonkoo before I brush it for you!" the dormitory captain said, sternly, taking a few angry strides towards the latecomers. "In fact, I have changed my mind. You, bye-bye ear,"she said pointing at one of the girls. "Pick a pin on the spot. You, fat-fat eye,stand on your toes. And you... the funny looking one, kneel in the water on my space. One more word from any of you and I will make sure that you sleep on the veranda."

Laughter reverberated in the dormitory.

"Close your dirty fangs!" the dormitory captain ordered the dormitory at large, and the laughter seized at once. The scapegoats assumed the assigned punishments and the rest of the dormitory went back to being quiet.

Fabiola had the smuggest smile on her face when she turned away from the scene and buried her head under her blanket.

CHAPTER SIX

Fabiola was too overwhelmed by the environment to go to sleep that night. She found herself an hour later listening intently to someone nearby tell a story about a wedding and a horse. The captain did not seem to mind the soft whispers sizzling in the dormitory. In fact, she surprised the girls when she called for attention and announced her intention to recount a narrative of her own.

"Girls, before you go to sleep tonight, I want to tell you a story about a ghost that haunts this school. The ghost goes by the name, Krush-Krush. Listen carefully because it is likely that one of you might not wake up tomorrow if said ghost comes calling tonight."

The captain had taken up a place on the only vacant upper bunk in the room and every eye was focused on her. She sat cross-legged on a pillow set on springs and bore a grave expression that captivated the audience.

"Every year, a dissimilar set of girls come to the St Francis Girls' Vocational High School. Every year, these groups of girls go to sleep accounted for, but their fate during the night is uncertain because on such a night, evil is said to loom the dorms looking for the soul of a young girl to drag to the world of the dead." The girls closest to the captain were unfortunate to have a finger pointed at them in emphasis, causing them to either flinch, or let out a terrified cry. Those who were too far away to see the captain moved closer and waited uneasily. Even the slightest movement could be heard over the pause that followed. Fabiola clutched her blanket tightly around herself as she waited.

"Many years ago, long before you were born, a certain nameless woman, despite her misgivings about boarding school, decided to entrust her daughter to the renowned care of this institution. She loved her daughter dearly and had a difficult time leaving her in the hands of strangers, but concern for her daughter's future and education overrode fear.

"This woman counted the days to the first term's end to see her daughter again. On Closing Day, she was the first parent to arrive at the school. As the students poured out of the gates, this woman searched every face for her daughter. She started to worry when she did not see her daughter and alerted the school authority.

"The school searched high and low for this girl, assuring the mother that her daughter had no doubt been present for the term's final general assembly just that morning. No one, not even the gatekeeper had seen her leave the campus, and she was nowhere inside the campus either. As the search went on, the girl's mother grew frantic.

"That day went by without news of her daughter's whereabouts, as did the next day, and the day after that. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. During this period, the woman employed every service at her disposal to help find her daughter but she was never found. Finally, she gave into despair, heartbreak, illness, and soon passed away, ever mourning the loss of her child.

"I know you're wondering what this story has to do with you, but you'll see why in a moment."

Curious ears waited, all drawn and wrapped in the cocoon of the captain's bottomless voice. She was quite the storyteller; the way her eyes grew in emphasis, the way her shoulders dropped when describing the woman's sorrow, and the way she paused when the girls expected her to hasten on—it was all so effective. She had Fabiola feeling sorry for the faceless woman.

"Every year on reopening day, this woman's ghost is said to haunt the St Clare's Dormitory in search of her daughter. Her ghost is relentless, and the concern is that she might eventually find what she is looking for, or be forced to substitute after searching for so long. We are not certain when this might happen, but the possibility grows with each passing year."

Just as the words fell out of the captain's mouth, there came a faint scratching at the dorm door. The scratching noise gave birth to a chorus of frightened shrieks and clustering at the centre of the dormitory. The captain did not object to the huddling at first, instead, she shook her head sympathetically at the girls, which merely made her story more believable and caused further terror.

"Stop the noise and return to your beds," the captain said in a firm tone that did not need to be repeated for emphasis. The scratching at the door had ceased by then. Fabiola was lucky to have chosen a bed in the safe zone, which was at the centre of the dormitory. A few of the girls clustering at the captain's feet went back to their beds and a majority, especially those closest to the door, pretended to return to their beds.

"So in other words, you are owed a visit by a ghost tonight," the captain continued. "She comes in the heart of the night when the dormitory is dead to the world, but if you are awake and alert when she comes, you can hear the piercing sound of heels... Krush-Krush, clacking against concrete, down the path, stopping to inspect each bed until she is certain that her daughter is not among the newcomers. The ghost's only physical presence is a pair of fierce red stiletto heels. Some girls claimed to have felt her touch.

"Tonight might be the night she reunites with her daughter," the captain said that part in earnest, leaning forward slightly to point her finger at the girl closest to her.

A series of uncoordinated things happened at once. Yvonne jumped promptly into Fabiola's bed, startling Fabiola to a high scream. The scream was immediately answered by banging on the door, which resulted in more frantic screams and then the thumping of feet running towards the captain. Fabiola was rendered motionless on her bunk by Yvonne's tight grip.

"Two more hours to midnight, people. Beware, and stay alert for the ghost sounds like this... K-r-u-s-h-K-r-u-s-h... a pair of blood red stiletto heels down the path, K-r-u-s-h-K-r-u-s-h... halts to look for her daughter, K-r-u-s-h-K-r-u-s-h... moves onto the next bed, K-r-u-s-h-K-r-u-s-h... round the dormitory." After relentlessly trying to relay meaning to the terrified bunch at her feet, the captain suddenly stopped and stood.

"No sleeping two to a bed," she said, dismounted, and disappeared into the curtained lower section of her bunk.

The group of girls bundled in the middle of the dormitory stared helplessly in the direction of the captain's space, unwilling to return to their own beds. Finally, they looked for ways to pair with those willing to have them in the safe zone, ignoring the captain's warning.

"I said, no pairing." The captain reappeared a minute later carrying a cane. "Return to your beds, now!" she ordered.

The snapping sound of a whip falling against wood was all the warning the girls needed. They bolted and ran to their assigned beds. The captain circled the dormitory to make certain. Even the girl closest to the door was made to return to her bed, kicking and screaming.

Fabiola spared a glance at Yvonne reinstated on her bunk and saw a pool of unshed tears sparkling in her eyes. Fabiola was scared out of her mind but she managed to say, "It's just a scare." Her intention was to calm Yvonne but the words sounded dry even to her own ears. A tear slipped down Yvonne's cheek just before she buried her head under her blanket.

The captain led the girls through a short prayer after that and just when Fabiola thought it couldn't get any worse, the lights flickered off and the dormitory was plunged into utter darkness. She immediately ducked her head under her blanket and shut her eyes tight, fearful of what she might see, or hear in the dark. She held her breath for the piercing sound of angry red heels. The only sound the dormitory produced was the whining of spring, whispering, and the captain's final words.

"Good night girls, good luck with Krush-Krush, and hope to see you in the morning."

CHAPTER SEVEN

Fabiola woke with a start and only just managed to catch herself in time from falling off her bunk, thanks to the protective bars fixed on either side. The jolt accelerated her heartbeat and her eyes darted wildly about desperately trying to factor the strangeness into her consciousness. It took her a while to translate the squeaking of springs, the distorted voices, and the thumping of feet. Outside, a bell was going off angrily and someone was banging continuously on the door yelling, "Wake up, foxes!"

Fabiola shielded her eyes from the glaring light above, confused. The world around her was in motion.

"Up, up, up, foxes! Make up your beds. You must be bathed, attired in your white gowns, and ready for morning Mass in thirty minutes!"

The determined voice triggered reality, and Fabiola jumped promptly from her bunk. She landed clumsily and muffled a pained cry.

"Go to the bathhouse. Take a bucket and toiletries along," the captain's voice rang through the confusion. Fabiola joined the crowd obeying the order. "Out, out, now!"

"Yvonne, what time is it?" Fabiola asked when Yvonne brushed past her on the path, barely paying Fabiola attention in the haste to follow the captain's order.

"5.05am," Yvonne said over her shoulder.

Fabiola opened her mouth to say something when her gaze landed on the captain standing by the door, cane in hand, already bathed, and attired in a white gown and a cream-white pullover. Her headscarf was the same shade as her school pulloverand she wore white socks and brown sandals. Fabiola shuddered at the sight of the cane and lowered her head when she walked by the captain. When she stepped outside, the cold night air hit her flesh with the equivalence of a whip against flesh. Instinctively, she braced her arms around herself, shivering. She thought about running back into the dormitory, but the captain stood only a few paces away tapping her cane impatiently.

Fabiola went with the crowd, down the steps and past the lawns to where the taps waited. The cold grew worse with every step. The bathhouses were adjacent to the refectory with four taps attached to the walls outside, and the girls were expected to wait in line to carry a pail of ice-cold water. The longer Fabiola stood in the cold, the scarier the idea of dipping her hands in a pail of cold water became. Her mother never let her bathe with cold water at home, or wake her before 6.00am. She always insisted that cold water would make Fabiola sick.

The bathhouse was already bursting at the seams with foxes when Fabiola walked in, all bearing dreadful expressions and hissing at the cold water. The bathhouse was wide and secluded from the rest of the school by high walls with perforations along the upper section. There were no showers on the walls. The interior was two-sided, detached at the middle by a small path. Each side was allotted small squares per student to stand and bathe and corresponding hooks on the wall to hang towels and stuff. The room had two openings, one facing the dorms and the other leading into a second bathhouse. The captain stood by one of the doors watching the girls.

Fabiola fizzled when she sank her hand in the bucket of ice-cold water.

"Brush your teeth first and then use soap and a hand towel to scrub your skin. I don't want to see any of that splashing around here," the captain instructed.

Fabiola followed the captain's instructions, dipping into her titi pailto find what she needed. No one had ever paid attention to how much soap Fabiola used, or how well she scrubbed before that day. She'd never been made to stand naked in a room full of naked girls either. A bulk of the girls were scrawny and underdeveloped like Fabiola. Some had extra body parts—engorged and hairy body parts—that puzzled Fabiola. Her first instinct was to wrap her arms around herself protectively. Watching the mature girls was like watching a reality show of all the scary things she'd read about the female body from "Live Life to the Full", the most popular book in primary school, also known as the "bad-fashion book".For the remainder of the bath, Fabiola's eyes stayed glued to the scrawny majority.

One fox refused to take her clothes off, and another refused to bathe. The captain tore the clothes forcefully off the first fox and dragged the second fox to the middle of the bathhouse. The spectacle caused a surge of laughter.

"Dip and pour water on yourself right now young woman!" the captain insisted.

The girl shook her head no, terrified and tearful.

Angrily, the captain folded the sleeves of her school pullover, scooped a handful of water, and threw it at the girl. The girl screamed and tried to run away, but the captain caught her midsection before she could escape. The captain scooped more handfuls of water and threw it at the girl who screamed louder and fought harder. The captain used the girl as an example, soaking her up and scrubbing her down in front of everyone despite her cries and protests. The distraction worked in Fabiola's favour because she abandoned scrubbing thoroughly and sprinkled water all over herself instead.

A few of the girls were already dressed by the time Fabiola returned to the dormitory. She noticed a difference when she walked in. Unlike before, the untidy interior looked somewhat tidied, not to perfection, but there was definitely an order to things and it had to do with the fact that some of the beds were made and others, like Fabiola's, barely.

"You have ten minutes to dress and be ready for Mass. The white pullovers go over the white gowns, and the sobo sandalsgo with white socks." The captain's words were accompanied by the sound of a whip falling against a locker.

The brown open-toe sobo sandals* had a funny smell, but Fabiola loved how comfortable they felt on her feet. Once attired in scented new garments, she looked down at herself proudly. She'd never looked fresher; just like the clean reverend sisters who came to visit her mother sometimes. The feeling excited her.

"Make sure to tidy up around yourselves and remember to comb your hair too," the captain instructed when the foxes were almost finished.

Fabiola heard the words Krush-Krush mentioned somewhere in the dorm and a memory from the previous night came rushing back to her. She'd completely forgotten about the ghost; with the morning confusion and all. She felt the air stiffen around her as if the other girls were thinking the same thing.

"Yvonne, did you see Krush-Krush?" Fabiola asked, heart pounding when she covered the few inches to Yvonne's space.

"No, I was sleeping," Yvonne whispered, curious as well. A stream of curious questions about Krush-Krush flowed around them.

"Krush-Krush was here last night," one girl said, causing everyone in the dormitory to turn in her direction. "I heard the sound of heels... real loud, wandering the dormitory for a full ten minutes. It was just like the captain described even though I did not get a chance to see the heels."

"That's a lie," a second speaker accused the first. "The captain said that Krush-Krush only comes when everyone is asleep. How did you hear her if you were asleep?"

"The captain said that the ghost comes at midnight. I wasn't sleeping by midnight and I heard Krush-Krush," the first speaker insisted.

Some foxes "pfft'ed" and others "boo'ed".

"I heard her too," a third speaker said and was too far away for Fabiola to see her face.

"Me too," another speaker contributed.

Spurred on by the first four, a handful of girls claimed to have either heard or seen Krush-Krush. Bright red heels, some said.

"I felt her touch," one girl surprised everyone by saying and doubtful eyes turned on her. "I felt her touch, I swear," she insisted. "The ghost stopped by my bed and drew down my blanket and then just walked away after a few seconds."

"And you stayed quiet the whole time? While a ghost touched you? You didn't scream?" a cynical voice demanded.

"I was too frightened to scream."

"Liar!" the negating voice yelled.

"Don't call me a liar. I know what I felt, and I felt a ghost's touch."

The argument went on for a long time that almost resulted in a fight if the captain hadn't shown up when she did. Fabiola was more frightened than confused by the end.

CHAPTER EIGHT

When the captain said the girls had to go to Mass, Fabiola assumed the church was somewhere nearby. What she did not expect was that they actually had to trek to church. They were led outside the school gates by a group of seniors, huddled together in small groups. It was still very dark outside and blistering cold. The walk started on the main road outside the gates and turned into a hike up a narrow road, rocky and framed by thick dark shadowy bushes. Without torches to light the way, the foxes stumbled and fell on the path in an attempt to catch up with the seniors who seemed to know exactly where they were going and not particularly concerned about the surrounding bushes and scanty houses.

Fabiola was sweating like an athlete by the time they reached the top of the hill and the church structure came into view. She had no idea how long the walk took, but she was glad when the welcoming warmth of the church's interior enveloped her. The church wasn't much different from Fabiola's home; small, welcoming, and sacred. There was a row reserved for the girls and they filled in orderly. A few Christians dotted the illuminated interior either bow-headed, or kneeling in the pews in prayer.

The church rose in habit when the choir announced the priest and mass servants with an entrance hymn in the vernacular and mismatched drums.

V. Lord, have mercy on us.

R. Lord, have mercy on us.

V. Christ, have mer....

Fabiola tried very hard to focus on the words slurring around her, but it was difficult when her brain was screaming for repose. She tried to keep her eyes open but each time they pulled downwards of their own accord. Her head hit the pew several times and each time, she blinked guiltily and righted herself only to be plunged right back into slumber. She recalled vaguely sitting or standing with the rest of the church, being touched on the shoulder or pushed roughly and asked to stop sleeping—several times—but what followed was beyond her control.

"Mass is ended! Go in peace to love and serve the Lord!"

Fabiola only came to it at the concluding rites.

***

The girls followed the seniors back to the school campus after Mass and convened in the refectory. Instructions were to change into the sportswear and go along with a bucket, broom, and rag. The skies were barely clear. There were more seniors in the refectory than the night before—all dressed in the same unsullied manner as the dormitory captain—and like the night before, the foxes assumed their seats and waited while the seniors paced the refectory. Senior Laura was not among them.

"Stop the noise!"

"Sit upright!"

"Shut your mandibles!" The barked orders persisted.

Fabiola flinched every time a senior walked by her table.

"Good morning, girls," an unfamiliar face mounted the stage and addressed the foxes.

"Good morning, senior," the foxes responded to the senior's greeting.

"My name is Senior Limnyuy, and I am the labour prefect," she announced. She had a funny accent. She did not have Senior Laura's grace; rather she possessed a more sturdy appearance.

"This school does not run on eating, sleeping, bathing, and attending Mass alone. A lady takes care of her environment. That is where I come in. My assistant and I, Senior Bessem." She pointed at another senior lurking by the stage. The other seniors observed unobtrusively.

"The portions I am about to assign to you will be maintained and inspected every morning until I say otherwise. Some of you may have more than just one assigned portion starting tomorrow because I noticed a lot of you dozing off during Mass this morning. I take great pride in punishing those who have no respect for God's holy temple." The smirk that accompanied her words was promising.

"These chores include mopping and sweeping. Tables one to five are in charge of mopping and tables six to eight are in charge of sweeping." Fabiola was among the first set. "Tables one to five, take your buckets and follow me. Tables six to eight, follow Senior Bessem."

The excited bunch followed the seniors outside.

"Form a straight line behind me," Senior Limnyuy said to her group once they were outside. Each girl on the line was assigned a portion starting with the first. Fabiola and Yvonne were the last on the line because one of the bullies glared them to the back of the line. They followed the senior around the campus and were extremely relieved when they were not assigned to clean the latrines—the school only had latrines as was the common practice in boarding schools in the country. The foxes assigned to clean the latrines were disgruntled by the assignment but a senior's word was rule. Fabiola and Yvonne were assigned two small verandas in front of a small cabin called "Carpenter's workshop".

"I will be back to inspect in thirty minutes. Mop this section until I can see my reflection on it, understood?"

"Yes, senior," Fabiola and Yvonne answered.

"What exactly does she mean by 'mop'?" Fabiola asked Yvonne when the senior took off.

Yvonne shrugged. "I have no idea." They both regarded each other stupidly because neither one of them knew what the word mop meant. "What should we do?" Yvonne asked.

Fabiola bit her lip thoughtfully, looking around. "Ah! I think she meant we should dry-clean the floor." Her clue was the girl on the portion closest to theirs.

"I... " Yvonne started and then followed Fabiola's gaze.

They all burst out laughing at the same time.

CHAPTER NINE

After the chores, the girls were asked to reconvene in the refectory for breakfast. They were required to go along with a cup and a teaspoon. Senior Laura attended with the sole purpose of introducing the seniors. The foxes applauded when their dormitory captain was called to the stage and she responded with a heartfelt bow. Senior Laura made a light remark about sleeping during Mass and then retreated, leaving the other seniors to coordinate breakfast.

Breakfast was not what Fabiola imagined it would be. The single loaf of bread was small and the only complement was a cup of tea. Usually breakfast for her constituted of a heavy meal from leftovers, or a fresh meal depending on the events of the previous day. Morning Mass and chores had awoken an unusual hunger in her. Undoubtedly, she owed her trunk a visit later for a snack.

Fabiola overheard a few of the girls complaining about the texture of the bread, others about the quality of the tea. "The bread is too strong", "The tea is just coloured water", they said. Fabiola paused. She had not noticed any of those things. To her, a loaf was a loaf and tea was any hot liquid that had sugar in it. She almost choked on her food when she spotted the girl sitting across from her adding chocolate to her bread and milk with Ovaltine to her tea. Fabiola looked around to make sure that she wasn't hallucinating. There was another girl on the adjacent table doing the same thing with butter, and so were a number of the girls in the refectory. Fabiola's jaw dropped.

The school prospectus had not mentioned anything about that kind of luxury. More so, her mother would kill her if she made those kinds of demands. _"Only thieves dare that kind of luxury, Fabiola,"_ her mother would say. The only time Fabiola was allowed to taste Mambowas on Christmas Day and in order for that to happen, her mother had to give her a coin as a Christmas gift to buy whatever she wanted. To think that these girls so casually flaunted the things she only ever dreamt of owning was unimaginable.

She knew for a fact that her parents could not afford to spoil her that way. She'd been raised to be humble, logical, and contented. She never had anything in excess and never lacked anything either. She had not thought twice about the chin-chin,chips,crank-crank,garri,sugar, and roasted groundnuts her mother had put in her trunk. She felt grateful to her mother for what Fabiola considered special treats, never imagining there could be more out there.

Before that day, Fabiola had not thought much about her social standing, or realised that there was a gap between the rich and the poor. Only a few people owned cars in her village. Her father was one of the three people who owned a motorcycle and for this reason and a few other reasons like her father being a government employee and her mother a nurse, her family was counted among the affluent in her village. Here, affluent spelled a lot differently. She'd ignored the signs before, but it was becoming increasingly easy to distinguish between the foxes from the shiny things they owned, how much pocket allowance they said they had, and the boastful way in which they spoke about their families. A few of them claimed to live in mansions with a fleet of cars at their disposal; a fact Fabiola could not fathom.

"You know, my mother wanted to buy me chocolate but thought it was too much and that the school might reject it. I love chocolate so much," Yvonne whispered to Fabiola at one point, having been partaking in the staring as well.

Uh huh!

Fabiola spared her friend a sideways glance and did not respond. They both knew she told a lie. Like Fabiola, Yvonne was from a simple background.

***

"Er, you, you, you!" a deep hoarse voice resounded throughout the campus two hours after breakfast, alerting the foxes.

"Er, you, you, you," came the voice again.

Intrigued, the foxes abandoned exploring the campus and followed the sound tentatively to the frontage of the school. The seniors had left the foxes to their devices after breakfast. Fabiola was one of the first to reach the frontage and by the school gates stood an atypical reverend sister; the most audacious Fabiola had ever seen and she had seen many in her lifetime. When the odd-looking woman saw that the girls were gathering, she strode into the campus leisurely, passed them, and went to the assembly ground. Something about her buoyant, manly strides said she was confident that the girls would follow.

Fabiola had no idea when, or how word circulated but the entire school was gathered on the assembly ground in no time. Speculation rose among the foxes as to the woman's identity; the matter of her importance evident in how much power she commanded in her wake. When the stranger cleared her throat, silence replaced whispers.

"Good afternoon, foxes," the woman called out in a sing-song voice, slurred and unhurried. The confident attitude went with a permanent smirk that transformed into an arrogant smile. "Does anyone of you know who I am?" she asked the group gathered at her feet.

A few excited hands rose.

The woman studied the crowd for a moment and then pointed at a fox at the back of the crowd.

"You are Sister Jude," the girl said excitedly.

The woman gave a throaty laugh and shifted from foot to foot before saying, "You have one part of the question correct, fox. My name is Sister Jude, yes, but who am I to you?"

Confused murmurs disturbed the quiet. Senior Laura walked up to the platform and stood next to Sister Jude. The other seniors watched the exchange from the side-lines with amused expressions. Sister Jude leaned over and said something to Senior Laura who bowed respectfully before turning to face the crowd.

Fabiola watched Sister Jude closely. The woman was somewhere in her early fifties, nothing frail about her appearance. The blue wrapper tied over her religious habit accentuated her oddness. She was taller and bulkier than most women were and bore pleasant ebony features. A few grey hair escaped her veil to portray her real age but her liveliness made the fact barely noticeable. Fabiola's gaze was drawn particularly to the gap between Sister Jude's two front teeth—exactly like the gap between Fabiola's two front teeth—and Sister Jude loved to smile. It made her look odder.

While the foxes pondered the question, Senior Laura returned from a short-lived errand to the staff room and handed a bag full of candy to Sister Jude.

"You have two minutes to figure out who I am and this bag of candy is yours." When Sister Jude waved the prize at the girls, the response was as to be expected from teenagers. The brainstorming strengthened and the whispers grew.

"You are our new mother," one girl said.

Sister Jude shook her head.

"You are our teacher!"

"You are our reverend sister!"

A series of wrong answers followed that. Sister Jude watched, unhurried, seeming to be enjoying herself at the foxes' expense. She turned and said something to Senior Laura every now and then and they both smiled, Senior Laura shyly, and Sister Jude, without restraint.

"Your two minutes are up girls. No answer, no candy," Sister Jude said, handing the bag of candy over to Senior Laura. "My name is Fonyuy Jude, and I am the principal," she said simply, her features gaining some degree of seriousness. She must have sensed the bewilderment in her audience because she went onto explain herself. "Principal simply means that I am highest in rank...like the headmaster of your former school. I am in charge of your education and well-being. All your problems come to me, and I see to it that they are resolved. This does not mean that you should undermine your prefects. They play an instrumental role in the running of this institution, and to disobey one of them is to disobey me." Something in her voice suggested that it would be a mistake to underestimate her.

"So far, do you feel welcomed in my school?" Sister Jude asked at the end of her speech.

"Yes, sister," the foxes sang joyously.

"Has anyone of you been maltreated or mistreated in any way by your prefects or the environment?"

"No, sister!"

"Do you have any regrets about coming to school here?"

"No, sister!"

"Good girls." Sister Jude smiled contentedly, showing off her gap. "I want to thank the prefects for taking such good care of my girls. Girls, give your prefects a hand of applause."

A round of applause went out to the seniors. In the minutes that followed, a number of seniors went through the crowd distributing candy, a handful per fox.

After that, time went by in a blur, with the foxes following the principal around the school campus, hanging onto her every word while she introduced every nook and cranny, making promises of heaven. Later she took the girls to a classroom where a tailor took each girl's dress size. Sister Jude said it was for the school uniforms that would be given out later. The tailor also handed to each of them a plastic package containing a blue school pullover marked according to size. The principal concluded the tour by taking the girls to the staff room and provided them each with a Bible and a hymnal.

"Mark the items with your names, so that there is no confusion," she cautioned.

Within a short time frame, Fabiola established that Sister Jude was well respected. She did not compel respect; rather she seduced her subjects with wit and charm. Fabiola felt welcomed in her presence, along with a sense of belonging. The foxes were all sad to see the principal leave.

CHAPTER TEN

After the principal's departure, the girls were made to endure another bath and a compulsory thirty minute siesta break. Fabiola faked sleep while ridiculing the notion of bathing twice a day and forced to siestby a dangling whip. Her mother's words drifted through her mind. _"Only lazy people sleep during the day, Fabiola."_

The bell summoned the foxes to the refectory once again after the break. As opposed to a delicious plate of rice and beans for lunch, dinner was an unpleasant combination of cooked garri and okro soup,which Fabiola blatantly refused to eat. Most of the pots remained untouched because apparently, not only Fabiola thought that the dish was revolting. Fabiola went straight to her trunk for a snack after dinner. She'd always had a craving for one particular snack that her mother never let her have at home because it was supposedly bad for her health. She scooped a generous amount of garri into a plastic cup, soaked and drained in cold water and added a handful of roasted groundnuts and a few cubes of sugar to taste. Already dressed for bed, she mounted her bunk and munched the content of the cup guiltily. No one stopped her. A look around the dormitory showed that she wasn't the only one relishing in a little late night snack. When she rinsed her cup and replaced it in her locker, the blaring sound of the bell came again. This sound, as she was coming to understand, indicated the end, or the start of an activity.

She climbed into bed just in time for lights out. After a brief prayer led by one of the girls as was mandatory, Fabiola closed her eyes and sighed contentedly, feeling her tiny bones give in to exhaustion. The captain's sharp voice managed to pierce into Fabiola's sleep-fogged brain sometime after she dozed off. When she came fully awake, the dormitory was silent, save for the captain's booming voice commanding the silence with a narration. Fabiola found that the dormitory was fully awake and listening attentively to the tale.

The captain maintained the same position she had the night before, only this time she held a lantern before her face to illuminate the dark interior. The orange glow of the lantern danced across her face, rendering the rest of her figure a mere silhouette. Torchlight dotted the dark interior, leaving ghostly shadows on the walls. The shapes made Fabiola shiver and burrow deeper into her blanket.

"I am feeling motivated tonight, and for this reason I am going to tell you three stories of great importance," the captain's ever-captivating voice carried over the dark interior, and the audience waited patiently and unobtrusive.

"Listen carefully and beware for these are not just bedtime stories. I am sure by now you have asked yourselves why, unlike all the other lawns in the school, the lawn in front the refectory remains the only vacant one. I also remember warning you this morning never to set foot on that lawn. There is a reason for that." The captain paused, eyes focused in the dark as if she could see every one of her subjects.

"Many years ago, this school was swarmed with trees; trees that were chopped down over time, save one. This exceptional tree stood at the centre of the lawn I just told you about and flourished over the years. Its protruded branches provided shelter for the students when they were looking to relax or study. The mere beauty of the tree kept the principal from chopping it down." She paused and bit her lip thoughtfully.

"Before I continue my story I will like to tell you something first. There is a reason why this school is religiously inclined. You should know that some students come to school with the intention to study and others are on a mission from the underworld to employ minions for the devil. There is a constant battle between God and the devil, and it is no secret that the devil runs in the opposite direction when he hears God's name mentioned. Always pray.

"Now back to my story. What the school authority did not know at the time was that the tree served as a channel to the underworld. Every morning when it was time for Mass, the students possessed by evil spirits congregated and disappeared into the tree and only reappeared after Mass; the mechanism is still a mystery to this day. This went on for a number of years undetected.

"No one knows how, but the school authority caught wind of the function of the tree, and Sister Jude took the initiative to cut the tree. You should know that Sister Jude has been the principal of this school since God-knows-when. Some people say that she does not age." The captain whispered the last part comically.

"Anyway, when the lumberjack started cutting the tree, something very interesting happened." She took her sweet time revealing what.

"At the first cut, all the girls with unclean spirits ran out of the dormitories screaming like demons at an exorcism, begging for the lumberjack to stop cutting. There were quite a few of them. They said that every cut hurt like it was their own flesh, without the physical evidence of course. Sister Jude had reinforcements. She'd been warned about this. She's a bulldog, that one.

"The reinforcements kept the girls from interfering. The deeper the lumberjack cut into the tree, the more the chaos. Somewhere in the middle of it all, the possessed girls started confessing their spiritual wrongdoings to the school, claiming successes and failures. When the tree finally came down, they had exhausted themselves with demonic cries and wails.

"I don't have the details about what happened after that, but the possessed girls were prayed for immensely and expelled that same day. That is why no one is allowed to set foot on that lawn. Rumour has it that an evil aura still lingers on the lawn, and that their cries can still be heard if you listen carefully."

Fabiola's heartbeat sped with every word coming out of the captain's mouth. She had not just set foot on the cursed lawn that day, she'd sat on a large tree stump where the evil tree had allegedly been, along with Yvonne and a bunch of other girls. She nearly screamed when Yvonne curled up in bed next to her, wide-eyed and shivering as well.

"Fa—" Yvonne started.

"I know," Fabiola cut Yvonne off before she could voice her fear. Then the two girls clung to each other as if their lives depended on it.

"The second story I'm about to tell you happened just last year. Note that my aim is not to slander a particular tribe; I am just stating facts," the captain's voice carried on.

"Last year, there was a form five student called Henrietta. Henrietta was from the South West Provinceof the country; a village called Fontem to be precise. Beware of girls from the coastal region, especially those from Fontem and Bayangi. They have a reputation for...well; let us say... linkages to the underworld. No offence to the guiltless lot but you know what they say, 'one rotting cocoyam spoils the rest'."

Something the captain said about girls from Fontem reminded Fabiola of Atabong Atem's threat. When Fabiola felt Yvonne's fingers dig into her arm as if to remind her, her gaze travelled wildly in the direction of Atem's bed but she could only make out shapes in the dark. Fear like she'd never imagined gripped her as meaning unravelled.

"Henrietta was by far the most beautiful girl this school has ever had. You should also know that girls from the South West Province are immensely endowed in that department. There is a photo of Henrietta in the staff room if you want to see for yourselves." While the captain told the story, Fabiola kept aiming quick cautious glances over her shoulder, in the direction of Atem's space, and back at the captain. Concentrating on the captain's voice became difficult now that Fabiola knew that evil loomed just a few feet away and that she'd been marked.

"You know what they say, 'beauty like Henrietta's comes at a price'. As famed as Henrietta's beauty was, she had a unique set of problems. Every night at midnight when the rest of the school slept, Henrietta wandered off into the night only to return in the wee hours of the morning looking worn out and muddy. This habit went unchecked for a long time but eventually Henrietta's dorm mates started to notice the oddity and began asking questions among themselves.

"There is nothing that keeps the girls at school going like gossip and conspiracies. A group of students, including the dormitory captain of the St Martin's Dormitory, the dormitory next door and Henrietta's assigned dormitory at the time, started planning a coup against Henrietta."

Several pairs of eyes travelled to the wall separating the two dormitories and whispers sizzled in the dormitory.

"The group of determined girls started following Henrietta every night when she left the dorm even though they never saw anything out of the ordinary other than the fact that Henrietta disappeared into the Carpenter's workshop every night at midnight sharp and reappeared in the mornings."

Fabiola stopped breathing at the mention of "Carpenter's workshop", her assigned morning portion.

"The time in-between these disappearances was unaccounted for. The girls got frustrated but never gave up. After an extended and fruitless investigation, the group decided to adopt a different strategy. Without Henrietta's knowledge, one night the group ganged up and bolted the dorm door from the inside and outside making sure that nothing and no one could get in or out. The entire dorm except Henrietta was privy to this.

"A few minutes to midnight, Henrietta found that she could not leave the dorm. She tried every trick in the book from faking a full bladder, to grave illness, to trick the dormitory captain into letting her out, but nothing worked. A few ticks to midnight, she started scratching at the dorm door crying and begging to be let out. Her dorm mates ignored her cries and pleas; even the most sympathetic. The first sign of alert came when her cries turned into pig-like squealing. 12.00am exactly, her features began altering and a few seconds into the most disturbing transformation the girls had ever witnessed, a real, full-sized pig was all there was in place of Henrietta.

"Girls and pig alike panicked, their screams alerting the rest of the school. Blinded by fear and desperation, the flight was catastrophic and the dorm door burst open from the outside spitting out a traumatised lot, pig first. The pig disappeared into the Carpenter's workshop amid the chaos and the real Henrietta was only seen the next morning. When she reappeared, the principal was waiting, dismissal letter in hand.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"I could tell you story after story about the supernatural havoc the mami watershave caused this school, ranging from the initiation of fellow students into the supernatural world through the use of fancy foods, jewellery, underwear, etc... to the bewitching of male teachers, but I promised you just three stories." The captain paused to ask for a cup of water, which she took down in one gulp.

"The third story is about the huge tree looming the corners of this dormitory," she said, pointing at the tree outside. "I'm sure you've all noticed how the giant branches protrude over the wall and over our dormitory."

Dozens of eyes, filled with curiosity, followed her finger.

"That tree is not just any tree. It is the ńt́itt́of Bafut, meaning 'the heart of Bafut'. Even the principal has reservations about trimming the branches to keep from swallowing up her school."

Fabiola's eyes wandered voluntarily to the tree. Her bunk was positioned such that she could see through the stained louvres at the oddly shaped tree outside. The protruding branches stared right back at her causing her to shiver and refocus her attention on the captain.

"Back in the day before any of us were born, this village used to be ruled by supernatural beings under the Keepers rule, which was fair to all, human and supernatural alike. The ńt́itt́* acted as a safe haven to everyone. This rule prevailed for a long time until a powerful force emerged and threatened the Keepers rule. Evil overrode good and humans lamented. Eventually, every supernatural being went over to the dark side; including the Keepers, save one. A witch. The greatest of them all. This witch single-handedly fought the dark side, gaining the wrath of every evil creature there was. The bounty on her head only fuelled her determination to reunite human and supernatural beings.

"As a last resort, she cast a powerful spell that expelled every evil creature from the village. The consequence was her life and in order for the spell to hold, the ńt́itt́* had to become holy ground again with annual animal sacrifices. The Bafut people have upheld this sacred tradition for years.

"The reason I tell you this story is not to scare you; it is because our school is linked to the tree whether we like it or not, and to warn you about the consequences of disrespecting the tree. The rule doesn't exempt foreigners.

"The tree has eyes. It watches everyone and everything under the sun. My advice to you; do not throw used pads or anything else over the fence at the tree because nothing thrown at the tree stays over the fence. It always comes back and with it comes bad luck. Barrenness to be specific. Over the years, some delinquent students have been known to ignore this warning and as a result suffered immense consequences.

"Beware. Don't speak too loudly around the tree. When assigned to sweep off the leaves fallen from the tree, do so with respect and don't make eye contact for too long. You might see more than you bargained for."

Again, the Carpenters workshop was in close proximity to the tree and Fabiola was stuck contemplating if she had treated the leaves fallen from the tree into her portion with respect.

The captain suddenly rose from the bunk and said in a deliberately deepened voice, "Before you go to sleep tonight, know that this school was built on a graveyard. That means that evil lurks everywhere." Before the foxes could digest her last remark, the light from the lantern flickered off and the captain disappeared. Terrified cries went up in the dormitory and running feet sounded all around, bed's squeaking in line.

"Stop the noise and return to your beds," the captain roared in the dark.

***

A glaring light flashed before Fabiola's eyes two minutes after the captain's dramatic exit and Fabiola jumped, startled by Yvonne's strangled cry.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! It's just me. It's Ansahmbom," the girl holding the flashlight hurried to explain.

Fabiola heard a handful of girls nearby complain about the disturbance. "Who?" Fabiola asked the intruder in a panicked voice, still not able to see through the light flashing in her face.

"It's Ansahmbom." The owner of the voice turned the flashlight to her own face.

Fabiola blinked as recognition pierced through the panic-ridden fog in her brain.

"What is wrong with you? You scared us!" Yvonne accused fiercely, peeking over Fabiola's shoulder at Ansahmbom.

Fabiola had a fleeting urge to plant her foot in the so called Ansahmbom's face. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop sneaking up on us?" Fabiola demanded furiously. Ansah had sneaked up on them three times before, each time less ideal than the last.

"I'm sorry," Ansah apologised. "I am scared and I don't want to sleep by myself."

Fabiola rolled her eyes and collapsed on the bed.

"This bed is too small to carry three people. You can't sleep here," Yvonne said, but it was too late because Ansah was already climbing the steps to Fabiola's bunk. She planted herself firmly between Fabiola and Yvonne on the small bed causing a painful squeeze between bodies and iron.

"Sorry, sorry," Ansah kept apologising.

I cannot believe this!

"Will you turn that thing off?" Fabiola said when Ansah would not stop waving the torch around to go with the awkward apologies.

"Sorry," Ansah said again and switched the torch off. It was on the tip of Fabiola's tongue to demand when they had become "friends", but Ansah was an enthusiastic girl and she seized the opportunity right out of Fabiola's hands by launching into non-stop chatter. Fabiola remembered meeting Ansah earlier, even though she did not remember giving Ansah the impression that she wanted to be friends. As good luck or bad luck would have it, the three of them were from the same village (Kom), spoke the same dialect, and in Ansah's mind that qualified as grounds to be tied to the hip for life.

One big happy Kom family. Yay!

"My mother gave me this," Ansah was saying. The torch was on again.

Jesus!

Ansah pulled out a mini Bible from her robe and placed it in front of everyone. "My mother said that whenever I felt afraid I should read Psalm 23." She was flipping through the pages of the Bible rapidly.

In all the time Fabiola knew the girl, she never once stopped talking. Fabiola caught Yvonne's eye over the arc of Ansah's head and they both shrugged. When Fabiola's gaze returned to Ansah, Ansah was looking at the both of them expectantly.

"What?" Fabiola asked innocently.

"Psalm 23. You know it, right?" Ansah questioned, looking from Fabiola to Yvonne, and then rolling her eyes when they both stared at her blankly. "Here. Read with me," Ansah directed, pointing the torch at the pages of the Bible. When neither Yvonne nor Fabiola read along with her, Ansah stopped and turned to them again. "You don't know what a Psalm is?" Her features betrayed disbelief and disappointment.

Fabiola lifted her chin and shot Ansah a defensive look. She did not like the insinuation in Ansah's voice. Of course, Fabiola knew what a Bible was. _P-s-a-l-m_ —she leaned over to examine the spelling on the pages in front of her— _never heard of that part of the Bible before._ "Our Way to God"—the little red religious studies text from primary school—never mentioned anything about a _P-s-a-l-m_. _What is P doing at the beginning of S-a-l-m, anyway?_ Fabiola was from a religious family where Sunday Mass was taken seriously. She went to confessions regularly, was a valued member of the Cadets of Mary in her village, and did not take kindly to anyone second-guessing her religion.

Ansah ignored Fabiola's attitude and explained patiently, "Psalms is a book of the Bible comprising a collection of powerful prayers of protection, especially Psalm 23. My mother says it wards off evil spirits."

Tentatively, Fabiola and Yvonne abandoned scepticism and edged towards Ansah and the Bible, indulging the possibility that there might be hope for their predicament in the pages after all. They read along with Ansah.

Psalm 23: The Lord Our Shepherd.

The lord is my Shepherd;

I have everything I need.

He lets me rest in fields of green grass

and leads me to quiet pools of fresh water.

He....

"Are you sure that it will work?" Yvonne asked the minute the three of them finished mumbling the short Psalm, her words mirroring Fabiola's doubt. Fabiola had been raised to believe that God was always watching over her, and she'd never had cause to doubt or test the theory.

"My mother said it works," Ansah answered for the umpteenth time.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Apparently, Psalm 23 worked because Fabiola lived to see the next day and then the day after that. She made it a point to recite the Psalm every night before going to bed and she did so looking in the direction of Atem's bed to make sure that God understood exactly from whom she needed protection. Just like that, Ansah warmed her way into the inner circle. Well, not as warm as Yvonne and Fabiola put together but Ansah could be counted on as a friend.

Four days after the captain's special brand of scary stories, Fabiola became extra careful of the environment. The big-girls—the prevailing nickname Yvonne coined for the bullies—kept threatening Fabiola and Yvonne whenever they had an opportunity, but their attention shifted solely to Yvonne for some unknown reason. Unlike the occasional glares directed Fabiola's way, the big-girls went out of their way on a daily basis to taunt Yvonne with verbal abuse that never failed to make Yvonne cry.

"Leave her alone!" Fabiola would cry whenever she walked in on one of such instances.

"If we don't, what will you do?" the big-girls would challenge.

"Don't cry Yve. Everything will be ok." Fabiola would sit beside Yvonne and comfort her when the big-girls walked away jeering and laughing at them.

Yvonne would go like this, "I will report them to Sister Jude."

"We should," Fabiola would agree and then stay by Yvonne until her tears subsided.

It became an addiction for Fabiola to stare at the ńt́itt́* every morning before going to the bathhouse. A chill ran down her spine every time she did this, especially when the tree seemed to form shapes like people and move around in the dark. No matter how scary the addiction was, she just had to stare at the tree and get freaked out before starting her day.

"Yvonne, I swear I have seen that tree move," Fabiola said one morning after breakfast. Fabiola was standing outside the dormitory with a group of other girls waiting for Yvonne to finish wiping the mud off her shoes.

"You too?" Yvonne asked, surprised. "I saw the branches changing shapes, like people." Yvonne's eyes were wide with conviction.

"I heard the tree call my name this morning," another girl who'd obviously been eavesdropping said, joining Fabiola and Yvonne. Just like that, a small group gathered in front of the dormitory and in no time, each girl claimed to have either heard or seen something bizarre about the tree.

"Lies! All lies! I am from Bafut and there is no such thing as 'the ńt́itt́* of Bafut... supernaturally'" a girl Fabiola only knew as Agatha interrupted the conversation. She seemed very certain of her claim. "That tree... " Agatha fumed, pointing at the tree, "is like any other tree. The captain is just trying to scare you. Grow up!"

Agatha was the oldest and the weirdest girl in the dormitory and she had an attitude to go with her weirdness. She hated everyone, kept to herself, never smiled, and could only speak Pidgin English. She kept the straightest and tidiest space in the dormitory, never covered a blanket, and only slept on the edge of her bed for fear of ruffling the sheets. Everyone except the captain was wary of Agatha. Agatha talked back to the captain on several occasions, which to the foxes was a taboo. As a result, Agatha was always on punishment of some sort from kneeling to picking a pinon the captain's space. Agatha was also rumoured to spend most nights kneeling in water on the captain's space.

None of the girls saw the captain walk up to their small group. "Agatha! I see you are at it again. Kneel. On. My. Space. Now!" The captain's voice startled and sent the group scattering like scared rabbits. Agatha glared at the captain, grumbled something under her breath, and stormed into the dormitory with the captain on her heels.

Sometime around 11.00am that day, the bell summoned the foxes to the assembly ground. Senior Laura had promised the foxes a trip the night before. Fabiola came to understand that the foxes were only a small fraction of the school population that was set to arrive at the school a week before the rest. Something to do with the foxes getting acquainted with the environment first. There was a lot of speculation regarding the impending arrival of the rest of the school, mostly because the foxes were uncertain what the implications were to them.

At the assembly ground, Senior Laura made a small speech that ended with, "These seniors and I will be accompanying you Up-campusto show you where you will be attending classes come Monday." A whoop of joy went through the crowd and excitement rose like a current. After six days of sitting around waiting for the bell to ring, or for the other shoe to drop, Fabiola grew bored and so were her mates. She had taken to sniffing her brand new text and exercise books twice a day for the rush.

The excited group followed the seniors out of the school gates, bursting with chatter. They were led down the main street, between the Bafut Catholic Hospital and SAFRACAH—St Francis Children and Adult Home—an institution that shared boundaries with the school campus. They turned into another road where the SAFRACAH gates ended and started up a hill, along a grated path, framed by thick bushes and trees. The pebbly road was a little slippery, courtesy of the rainy season, deserted, and the only thing visible for miles were landscape and feathered creatures.

Like the church where the students attended morning Mass, the hike to their present destination was unending, and just when Fabiola thought they'd reached the last stop, they turned right unto another hill. She was perspiring a lot by the time they reached the foot of a hill and spotted a huge two-storey building pitched at the top amid barren land and rocks. There was speculative murmuring in the crowd. Once confirmed by the seniors that it was the final destination, Fabiola joined the race to the top of the hill, heedless of the seniors' cries for modesty.

At the top of the hill, Fabiola was amazed to find that the magnificent two-storey building concealed three simple bungalows, structured in rows just like the dormitories. The bright red structures formed a square behind the main building, creating a big assembly ground in the heart of the campus. Just like the road leading, the entire area was covered with small brown hard rocks and the view from the top showed a steep valley sheltered by thick bushes and trees. The isolation gave the campus a serene effect.

A stink of disappointment lingered in Fabiola's heart as the seniors proudly presented the campus to the foxes. The campus was an upgrade to her former school, of course, but she had hoped that boarding school would be such that the dormitories and the classrooms were in close proximity—even the church—like her older cousin described.

Each block on the campus had approximately four classrooms and a sign indicating the level. The ground floor of the two-storey building had restricted access and Fabiola understood why when the seniors led them into the heavily guarded section. The words "Cookery lab" and "Sewing lab" flashed boldly on the doors in the industry style section. Both labs had giant spotless interiors, along with sophisticated machinery. By the end of the tour, Fabiola was boiling over with eagerness to explore her options come Monday. Monday was when classes were set to start and it was just four days away.

On the way back, the seniors barely paid attention to the foxes and for this reason, a few wandered off and bought a snack or two from the numerous vendors along the SAFRACAH Street.

"I beg for... ", "Please na... ", "I will pay you back in the dormitory",* the foxes like Fabiola who did not carry money pleaded with those who had money. As much as Fabiola craved the taste of accrashe resisted begging.

***

The foxes went straight to the refectory for lunch when they returned Down-campus—the foxes had started calling the two campuses Up-campus and Down-campus sometime during the trip. Just as food was served, Senior Laura and a group of other peeved seniors marched into the refectory.

"Kneel!" Senior Laura ordered in a bone chilling tone and a stone-cold expression unlike her usual show of warmth and kindness. The foxes pressed down on the tight spaces between the benches and tables on their knees immediately.

"If I call your name, mount the stage," Senior Laura continued. "Asongwe Camela, Mbaku Veronica, Atabong Atem." Confused and questioning glances were exchanged among the foxes as the names were called but no one stood up. Senior Laura repeated the names fuming. "Mount the stage, now!" The other seniors advanced on the foxes, making their intentions clear that it was either, mount the stage voluntarily, or be fetched forcefully.

"Vegah Madeleine, Suh Antonia, Wiysahnyuy Hilda, Achu Tina." The list continued.

All twelve girls stood on the stage by the time Senior Laura was through reading the list.

"Girls, I am very disappointed in you," Senior Laura addressed the crowd, neatly folding the piece of paper in her hand. "I take you out of the campus for a few hours and you go off soiling the good name and reputation of this institution." She turned to the culprits. "This group of girls deviated from the path on the way back, visited the shops and vendors, bought God-knows-what, and brought into the school campus." She shook her head, disappointed.

"The fact that this school consists of two separate campuses exposes you, yes, but that does not give you the right to interact or mingle with the outside world. Mingling or interacting with the outside world unless otherwise authorised by the school authority is strictly prohibited and punishable."

She turned to the guilty foxes standing in line behind her "I will use these young women as an example to teach you what happens when students choose to ignore the school rules. Follow me," she said to the scapegoats. The scapegoats started to follow, but she stopped just off the stage and said, "Don't walk. Creep instead." She walked out of the refectory and the twelve girls dropped to their knees and crept after her.

"Faster. Creep faster!" The other seniors hurried the culprits along relentlessly from behind with pounding feet.

The foxes resumed their seats once the refectory was deserted of seniors. A pained cry from a distance distracted Fabiola just as she sat down to endure a plate of long-cold jollof rice.With no seniors around to restrain the foxes, a good number of them, including Fabiola, rushed out of the refectory and ran towards the frontage of the school where the sound emanated. The group hid in a gutter separating the administrative block and the infirmary and watched the culprits from afar kneeling on the hard concrete of the assembly ground, in the harsh rays of the sun.

As they watched undetected, a man Fabiola had not met before—a stern-looking, giant-like, teacher-like man—walked out of the staff room with a cane. He strode towards the culprits waving the cane at them and saying something Fabiola could not make out because of the distance separating them. The culprits responded by recoiling and pleading with the man.

"Shut your mouths!" the man warned.

Senior Laura and the other seniors watched, unfazed. When the first whip landed on a small fragile palm, the fox cried out in pain and leaned away from the man.

"Show me your hand quickly!" the man shouted, pointing the cane threateningly in the fox's face. "If you don't show me your hand, I will whip you on every part of your body, starting with the face."

At the threat, the fox closed her eyes sobbing and reluctantly extended her hand.

Fabiola flinched at every whip that fell, five per student. Even seeing her arch-enemy, Atem, in tears, brought Fabiola no satisfaction. She'd been flogged plenty of times before, at home and at school but the fear of a whip falling against flesh never got old.

By the end, all twelve foxes were crying and begging the man not to report them to Sister Jude. They were lucky, he said, their punishment would have been worse if Sister Jude were present.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

9 September 1999.

The day started like any other day, with the girls being brutally wrung from sleep by the angry sound of the school bell and driven to an unchanging routine. The school authority had not made any official announcements, yet, but the foxes were bursting with excitement over the impending arrival of the rest of the school that day. The rumour was confirmed when the gatekeeper left the gates open like he had done the day of the foxes' arrival. After breakfast, anxiety drove a majority of the foxes to the school gates where they waited anxiously for the new arrivals.

The prefects stopped trying to stir the foxes away from the gates when the first new face arrived and the excitement became uncontained. There was a slow and steady inflow after that and the foxes watched with curiosity as the newcomers—some not that much older than they were—dragged their belongings into the school campus, towards the dormitories. A bulk of the newcomers came un-chaperoned and were all attired in the same blue sportswear the foxes wore every day for chores. A few of them wore cornrows like the seniors, and a greater number spotted the same low haircuts as the foxes. Unlike the foxes' first day, the newcomers' attitude was nothing short of over-friendliness, familiarity, and self-confidence towards each other and the environment, a fact the foxes found very intimidating. Every now and then, a newcomer called to the eager mob of foxes loitering by the school gates to help them carry their trunks into the school campus and they obliged gladly.

Around afternoon, the rhythm of the influx switched from steady to helter-skelter. The gates became jam-packed with new faces trying to get in at the same time. It was hard to hear oneself breathe over the racket. Fabiola retreated to a folding bench outside one of the classrooms on the administrative block to watch the invasion undisturbed. She had lost count during the first two hours and now she could only stare as face after face made it into the campus. She hadn't imagined that there would be so many of them; so many girls varying in height, size, age, and skin colour. She took a break when the bell announced lunch and resumed observing immediately after.

The influx slowed down around 4.30pm and by then the campus was overflowing with people—single-minded people—taking over the school. All ten dormitories in the school were vibrating with activity and the predominant sound was the banging of trunks and screeching of spring beds. Fabiola was torn between feeling excited and completely invaded. She returned to the dormitory around 5.00pm to give herself repose from the chaos outside only to find that the scene in the dormitory was of equal interest.

Every now and then, a newcomer or two came along and startled the residents of the St Clare's Dormitory by banging on the door and announcing, "Foxes! Who needs a Big?"and then ran away giggling before the foxes could identify them.

"If you need a Big, come to the St Augustine's Dormitory and ask for Allison or Brigid!" the announcements continued.

"If you need a Big, come to the St Thomas Aquinas Dormitory!"

"I need a very beautiful Small,so if you are not beautiful, don't come looking for me!"

"I need a very obedient Small, one who does everything I ask!"

"I need a very rich Small!"

"I need a smart Small!"

The campaign for Smalls persisted for a long time, each announcement more dramatic than the last. The foxes found this very entertaining. In Fabiola's case, entertained and wondering who her Big would be. Fabiola did not understand precisely what having a Big meant, but the captain had notified the foxes the previous night on the importance of claiming a Big and becoming a Small. Their safety and well-being in the school as foxes depended on it.

"Fa, I want us to join-trunks,"Yvonne said to Fabiola while the campaign was on-going.

"I was thinking the same thing. Do you think it's a good idea?" Fabiola asked, pushing her duffel to the foot of her bed to give Yvonne space to sit.

Yvonne nodded, barely containing her excitement.

Both girls giggled and jumped right into action merging their belongings. The snacks went in Fabiola's trunk and the miscellaneous items went in Yvonne's trunk. Once everything was in place, they exchanged keys and retreated to their bunks feeling contented. The act no matter how trivial seemed to have cemented an unspoken bond between them.

By then, a big portion of the dormitory had left in search of Bigs. Fabiola and Yvonne sat on their beds, chatting idly about the things in their trunks. They weren't surprised when the big-girls walked into the dormitory and glared at them before heading to their spaces.

"Those two girls eh,* I don't know what I will do to them. They are always gossiping in the dialect," Atem, leader of the big-girls, complained to her crew, meaning Fabiola and Yvonne.

Following the captain's warning about girls from Fontem, Fabiola made it a point to avoid Atem like the plague. She ducked her head and prayed that the big-girls would shift their attention to something else but they did not.

"I tell you,"* Atem continued when one of her crew members whispered something to her.

"They are always laughing at people too." The conversation carried on among the big-girls, while they glared daggers at Fabiola and Yvonne.

Fabiola noticed for the first time that the dormitory was nearly empty and that the captain was absent, which meant that they were vulnerable to Atem. She moaned in protest when Yvonne retorted to the big-girls' remarks.

"So what if we prefer to speak our dialect? Is it against the law? Or is it our fault that you don't have a dialect or someone to speak it with?"

"Shh." Fabiola attempted to stop Yvonne, but it was already too late because Atem was striding towards them, with her goons on her heels.

"Did you just talk back at me?" Atem asked, pointing a finger threateningly at Yvonne, disbelief vibrant in her voice.

"Don't point your fingers at me. You are not my mother!" Yvonne yelled at Atem.

Fabiola gasped.

"What did you just say to me?" Atem demanded more forcefully, reaching out to grab Yvonne's leg who dodged and scurried to the edge of her bed.

Fabiola saw red when Atem went round and started climbing the steps to Yvonne's bunk. "If you touch my sister, I will report you to Sister Jude," Fabiola spoke up, surprising even herself. "Sister Jude is in her office now. Try it and see."

Fabiola's interruption gained an open-mouthed response from Atem who exchanged an amused look with her crew before abandoning chasing Yvonne to face Fabiola. "You?" Atem said, measuring up Fabiola. "Mami cry-cry?Did you just speak to me?" When Fabiola did not budge or seem fazed, Atem gave a cynical laugh and clapped. "I cannot believe this," she said in mock-disbelief, coming to stand at the foot of Fabiola's bed. Fabiola scampered away from her. Atem's friends were waiting to pounce.

"We are not afraid of you. Touch any of us and we will report you." Fabiola felt rebellious all of a sudden and not sure where the confidence came from.

Atem cocked her head with one eyebrow raised, regarded Fabiola and Yvonne, shook her head sympathetically, and then turned away. She whispered something to her friends who nodded and then retreated.

Fabiola waited to make sure that they were actually gone before half-relaxing on her bed. She was surprised that the threat had worked. Sister Jude had not punished anyone, yet, but her reputation preceded her.

When Yvonne winked triumphantly at Fabiola, Atem chose that exact moment to speak up from her space, clapping rhythmically. "My name is Atabong Atem. Sister Jude or no Sister Jude. You people will see something in this dormitory.*Hmph."

Fabiola drew her face back in mockery and snickered along with Yvonne. Yvonne opened her mouth to reply to Atem's threat, but Fabiola shushed her with a hand.

"Fabiola, àŋena nɨn yɨtî boŋ fâyn Sister Jude a?"Yvonne asked provocatively in the dialect. The question was posed to Fabiola and meant for the hungry ears of the big-girls.

"I swear mbô,"Fabiola replied, and they both giggled.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The school campus regained some semblance of calm around 6.00pm. The St Clare's Dormitory was crawling with prominent Bigs by then, going out of their way to impress eager Smalls and vice versa. A few like Fabiola hung back, too shy to participate in the hunt. The victorious foxes already bragged about scoring Bigs. Some paraded the Bigs to their friends and others brought the Bigs to their spaces or trunks to show off their stuff. One fox had two elder sisters among the newcomers. The said sisters wasted no time getting into a fight with the dormitory captain for forcing their younger sister to sleep by the door, for a reason like constantly wetting the bed. Fabiola observed a Big and Small scene on the row across enviously, wherein a Big was carefully reorganising her Small's belongings while they chatted like older and younger siblings.

"I want you to be my Small." The second old-studentthat day approached Yvonne, barely acknowledging Fabiola and Ansah who were all observing the hunt from Ansah's lower bunk.

"My mother already chose a Big for me," Yvonne supplied with a naughty pout, totally unaware of the slap her rejection dealt on the old-student. The old-student faked nonchalance with a hum. Then she gave Fabiola and Ansah a once over, flipped her head, and walked away.

Once she was out of earshot, Fabiola, Yvonne, and Ansah burst into giggles.

"Did you see the way she looked at us?" Ansah asked with an attitude.

"Mm hmm. She totally ignored us. She should go.* I don't even like her." Fabiola scoffed.

***

The bell summoned the girls to the refectory for supper that evening later than usual.

"I need to find a Big," Fabiola whispered to Yvonne when they stepped inside the refectory. The refectory was jammed and Fabiola almost fled at the thought of walking into a crowded room.

"I already found you one," Yvonne said once they were seated at their usual table.

"What?"

"Look," Yvonne said, cupping Fabiola's chin to point her confused gaze in a direction filled with old-students, chatting fondly among themselves. Fabiola tried to duck but Yvonne held her chin steady. "That one." She pointed at a specific girl. "I like her, and I want her to be your Big. She is abang'alike you."

"What? Are you crazy?" Fabiola whispered fiercely, terrified by the thought. "You don't even know her. Plus, she's... out of my league." She gestured between herself and the designated Big.

"Exactly! After dinner you will approach her and state your intentions," Yvonne finalised, ignoring Fabiola's scuffle. Fabiola opened her mouth to tell Yvonne how absolutely—completely out of her mind she was, but Yvonne had that infamous _"my word is final"_ look on.

There is not a snowball's chance in hell I'm going to approach a girl like that and an even lesser one that she would want me for a Small.

***

"I want you to be my Big," Fabiola repeated herself stammering as she came face to face with the Big Yvonne imposed on her. Yvonne took the decision out of Fabiola's hand after supper by pushing Fabiola in front of her intended Big. This was why Fabiola found herself stuck, wide-eyed, and speechless in front of a complete stranger. She almost ran when the intended Big looked down at her with raised eyebrows. Her intended towered over Fabiola by two inches of self-confidence. Fabiola froze when she leaned forward.

"You want me to be your Big?" The girl surprised Fabiola with a warm smile.

Fabiola nodded. The smile made the other girl seem less intimidating.

"Um... " The girl paused in thought, sizing up Fabiola.

Oh-oh. She's going to say no. Please don't say no. If she says no, I will never speak to Yvonne again!

"Ok. I will be your Big." The girl shrugged, with a smile.

Wait, what?

"What is your name?"

"Fa-Fa-Fa... biola."

"Come with me," the other girl said, holding out her hand to Fabiola in invitation. Fabiola accepted the hand hesitantly and followed with clumsy strides, too shocked to do otherwise. A swift glance over her shoulder showed Yvonne giving her the thumbs up with a big self-satisfied grin.

***

"Abang'a,* where are you coming from?" Dorm-cap, short for dormitory captain—following the old-students' example—asked Fabiola when she returned to the dormitory later that evening.

"I was with my Big," Fabiola said, pausing at the door.

Dorm-cap took two long strides, cane in hand, and came to stand in front of Fabiola. The dorm was quiet and every fox was in bed.

The time spent with her Big had gone by in a blur and Fabiola had not realised how much until then. Joan, her new Big, had taken Fabiola to her dormitory—St Anne's—and introduced Fabiola to all her friends as her Small.

"Joan's Small. How do you do?" Joan's friends had all seemed happy to meet Fabiola. Joan was bold and friendly, and not at all bothered by the fact that Fabiola's only responses to her questions were shy bow-headed smiles. She let Fabiola go with an enriched loaf of Kumba bread,a family size bottle of Fanta, and a promise to come visit Fabiola the next day.

"Where did you say you were from again?" Dorm-cap asked, leaning towards Fabiola.

"I was with my Big," Fabiola repeated, concealing the gift from Joan behind her back.

"What is a Big? What do you mean by Big?" Dorm-cap demanded, seeming as confused as Fabiola. The onlookers tittered.

"I... I... " Fabiola stammered, lost.

"Disappear to your space now before I change my mind!"* Dorm-cap fired.

Fabiola ran to her space baffled by her luck. Any other day she would have knelt on Dorm-cap's space until Thy Kingdom come.

"Girls," Dorm-cap addressed the dormitory. "I have an assignment for you. Big and Small are not English words. Well... not exactly. I mean... they are both English words but not in the way you think. I expect each of you to submit a paper to me tomorrow with the proper replacements. Use the words again and sleep under my bed. Anyone who has both answers correct gets to be my Small."

The idea of becoming Dorm-cap's Small flared excitement in the dormitory and she had to wave a cane around to keep the noise down.

"Fa, what is that? Where did you get it from?" Yvonne asked the second Fabiola climbed into bed, bread and drink first.

"My Big gave it to me," Fabiola whispered proudly, winking at Yvonne.

"See, I told you." Yvonne giggled. Fabiola broke the bread in two and handed the other half to Yvonne. "If she gave you all this on the first day, then she's going to make a great Big. Oops! I said Big." Both girls giggled.

"No eating when it's bedtime." Fabiola jumped at the sound of Dorm-cap's voice and turned to see her glaring, cane in one hand, and the other hand outstretched towards them. "Hand it over," she said firmly, gaze travelling from Fabiola to Yvonne.

A whimper escaped Fabiola when Dorm-cap's whip landed impatiently on a locker. She looked down at the bread and drink in her hand, looked at Yvonne, looked at Dorm-cap, and then back at the bread and drink.

"Don't make me repeat myself," Dorm-cap warned. Fabiola was holding back tears when she handed the snack over. Dorm-cap extended the same favour to Yvonne.

"As from now on, eating at bedtime is forbidden. I will not only seize the food, I will dump it in the trash. Let these two girls serve as a warning to you all."

A generous round of snickering came from Atem's space following Dorm-cap's statement.

"Shut your rotting mouths!" Dorm-cap roared, pointing her cane in the direction of Atem's space. The snickering seized at once, followed by other girls laughing at the insult.

Fabiola buried her face in her pillow and cried silent tears. She could not wait until the next day to report Dorm cap to her Big.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

After the morning chores the following day, Fabiola carried her bucket to the school taps to rinse off the mud and was accosted by a group of peppy old-students.

"Fox, what is your name?" the leader of four asked, stepping in Fabiola's path.

Fabiola did not answer, guessing that the girls weren't that much older than she was and were piss-poor at trying to intimidate. They sensed the obstinacy in Fabiola and caged in on all sides. Fabiola clutched the white bucket to her side and stood her ground.

"What is your name?" the leader asked unyieldingly.

Fabiola clamped her lips shut, head bowed.

"It's as if this one is stubborn oh,"* one of the girls said, and they all sized Fabiola up.

The leader got in Fabiola's face. "Do you want to make name-juice?Eh?"

Fabiola clamped her lips tighter and toyed with the tips of her flip-flops in the dirt.

"Let's go. This one is too stubborn. I don't like her," the leader said to her friends, and they took off.

Fabiola watched them go suppressing a smile and feeling oddly buzzed with confidence.

When she returned to the dorm, Senior Laura was addressing the foxes, "When you are given a uniform, make sure that it fits. If not, take it back to the tailor for adjustments. You have until this afternoon to collect your uniforms."

Fabiola followed the crowd to the tailors and stood in line in one of the classrooms on the administrative block to collect her uniform. The process was swift because more than seventy per cent of the foxes had no objections to the fitting. The big-girls and a few others, however, lingered with the tailor until afternoon. Lunch was brief and uneventful, and only a few old-students bothered to make an appearance.

Shortly after the foxes returned to the dormitory, an anonymous voice called for attention and announced, "Foxes, it's time to cut your tails! Move out of the dormitory in an orderly manner!" By the time the anonymous voice finished making the announcement, more voices joined in, all ordering the foxes to move out of the dormitory.

The foxes obliged. When it was Fabiola's turn to step out of the door, one of the many excited old-students crowding the door slapped her hard on her buttocks and said, "Fox, your tail has been cut, run!"

Fabiola ran, laughing excitedly with the other foxes who came before her. There was an animated crowd gathered outside watching as the foxes got their tails cut. An old-student explained that the cutting of fox tails was a standing school tradition—a proper initiation into the school.

"Foxes, gather round!" one of the old-students called when the initiation was over, mimicking a senior's deportment. The foxes gathered eagerly. From the veranda of the St Clare's Dormitory, the leader of a presiding group of at least thirty excited old-students, excluding the bystanders, chanted loudly, "Foxes can dance without music!"

"Dance, dance, dance!" her mates and bystanders chimed in.

V. Foxes can dance without music!

R. Dance, dance, dance!

V. Foxes can dance without music!

R. Dance, dance, dance!

The singing grew spirited with every line, and a crowd of old-students who seemed to include the whole school caged the foxes in, encouraging them to dance. The foxes were clueless as to what the spectacle was but amused by it, so they danced, then suddenly, the singing ceased, and they were encouraged by varying orders to keep dancing without music. They danced—at first—like animated clowns to no rhythm, until a few like Fabiola realised that the whole school was watching and laughing at their expense. A majority of the foxes stopped dancing, but a few kept dancing, mindless. Rescue came in the form of Senior Laura's voice calling out from a distance for the old-students to leave the foxes alone or be punished. The old-students retreated without dispute, and the foxes returned to the dorm high-spirited.

***

Just a little before supper that same day, someone raised an alarm in the school and the girls raced out of their respective dormitories. A group of seniors were gathered in front of the St Thomas Aquinas Dormitory—same row as the St Clare's Dormitory—while a group of other seniors knelt on the path before them.

"Freshers!"A short, plump senior was ruling. "Just because you wear the same uniform as the prefects does not make you immune to the school rules. Creep to the refectory, now!"

Fabiola was lost. "Why are seniors punishing seniors?" she asked Yvonne as they watched the seniors creep.

"They are not seniors... yet," Yvonne replied. "They are freshmen/freshers in high school, like we are freshmen/foxes in secondary school."

"That doesn't make any sense. How are they still freshmen if they are already in lower sixth. Lower sixth is like the beta class of the school," Fabiola argued.

"Isn't this exciting?" Yvonne squealed, ignoring Fabiola's inquisitiveness and then ran off in the direction of the refectory where the rest of the school stirred to watch the freshers creep.

***

The introductory rites ceremony or introduction night took place a day later. After supper on Sunday, the students, including the staff—most of whom were making an appearance for the first time—gathered in the refectory. The tables were piled at the back and the benches arranged to accommodate the crowd. The principal opened the ceremony with a prayer and speech welcoming the old students, acknowledging the foxes, and thanking the staff for making time out of their busy schedules to attend. The school choir sang the school anthem, and the chief of ceremony—the social prefect—proceeded to call on the foxes to introduce themselves to the audience. After a pickle, mostly based on shyness, the foxes were propelled to the stage by encouraging cries from the audience one at a time.

"My name is Asaba Gracynthia, I am from Akum," the first fox to go up to the stage introduced herself shyly.

A round of open-hearted applause from the audience greeted the fox's introduction. The principal sat on the front row along with the staff and they all wore entertained expressions. The rest of the school fitted in with the same aura.

"My name is Ngam Fabiola, I am from Kom," Fabiola said timidly when it was her turn.

Applause followed her words. The introductions continued after that with varying reactions from the audience.

"My name na Sirri Agatha Ambe, I comot from Bafut."

Laughing and booing from the crowd.

"I be Nchang Brutus, I be... Mankon."

More jeers.

The principal had to stand and shush the crowd. The freshers were extended the same favour after that. Later, the foxes were compelled to entertain the crowd. The entertainment phase started out with just a few bold foxes going up to the stage to either tell a story, or sing a song but the cries coming from the crowd cheered the rest on. The competition spurred Fabiola into forming a group of her own and practising a popular song in the pantry.

"And now we have four foxes, Fabiola, Zita, Alessa, and Gwendoline coming to the stage to dazzle us with a beautiful melody," the social prefect announced when Fabiola and her group stated their intention to perform. The crowd applauded the group to the stage.

The song Fabiola picked—her favourite song—started with the lyrics, "Show me your brethren" and ended with, "Shalalalala". Unrehearsed and un-choreographed, the group mumbled the words to the song and danced—bumped into each other mostly—making the crowd go wild. The principal's cheeks were wet with tears of laughter by the time Fabiola and her crew left the stage, and yet, Fabiola had never been more pleased with her performance.

The cake was topped when a lone fox came on stage using a comb as a microphone and started singing a popular R&B song with slanderous remixed lyrics.

My name is Hiris. I am beautiful.

All the seniors want to be my Big.

They come asking for my hand in

_Smallship;_ _for my food and money._

_How many times do I have to say I am not interested in your Bigship_

I know you will punish me after this, but I will report you to Sister Jude.

When the song came to an end, everyone remained still, too shocked by the fox's audacity to react, then Sister Jude's laughter cut through the silence, and the crowd joined in and laughed with her. Hiris left the stage all smiles. The old-students took over with drama and dance. Refreshments were passed around to go with the merriment.

***

Later that evening, Fabiola was taken by surprise when her Big paid her a visit. Joan helped Fabiola prepare her uniform for school the next day. When she bid Fabiola goodbye and left the dorm, onlookers were gushing with envy, and Fabiola was beaming like an idiot.

"She is so nice," Yvonne said with admiration.

Fabiola winked at Yvonne from her bunk. Yvonne's Big was a form four student called Antoinette, and the only thing Fabiola had seen Antoinette do for Yvonne so far was check out the food in their trunk and demand why Yvonne had to join-trunks with Fabiola. Fabiola did not like Antoinette, at all.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Fabiola barely slept Sunday night from anxiety. Joan came to her dorm again Monday morning and fussed over her outfit. She tucked Fabiola into a white shirt and deep blue school pullover over a flowing black pleated skirt. White socks, sobo sandals, and a rectangular blue school headscarf completed the outfit.

"Let me see your school bag," Joan said to Fabiola. "Did you put all your books in there?"

Fabiola nodded shyly. She turned into a mute, reduced to nodding and smiling whenever Joan was around.

Joan opened Fabiola's school bag and looked inside with amusement. "Fabiola, you don't have to take all your books to school on the first day." She took out some of the books and reserved a few. When she was certain that Fabiola was ready to go, she gave her a pat on the back, wished her good luck, and left.

Fabiola and Yvonne were among the first to dash out of the school campus that morning heedless that it was still too early and that they had not eaten breakfast. Fabiola barely felt the weight of her school bag or the distance in the hurry to be the first Up-campus. When they scaled the last hill and came to the school compound, it was to their disappointment that the classrooms were locked. They scouted the environment, peeking into the classrooms through the windows. An hour later, an old-student arrived with a bunch of keys, took one look at the eager foxes waiting outside the form one classroom, shook her head, and opened the door. The key barely turned in the door before the foxes burst in.

"This is my seat! No, that is my seat! Wait, I will sit here! No, there!" The race for seats ran wild. Fabiola could not decide whether she wanted a seat at the front or in the middle, and if she waited too long to choose a seat she might not have much to choose from given the scramble. She picked the first bench on the second column because it had a perfect view of the blackboard, and Yvonne moved in with her on the seat for two. Fabiola toyed with the surface beneath the bench counter. The benches were an upgrade to the simple ones in primary school. These ones had partitioned lockers attached beneath the counter surface to provide space to stack books and other items.

_I have two lockers. Cool_.

"This is my seat. You cannot just walk in and demand to have my seat!" Fabiola turned and saw a petite fox arguing with one of the Atem's friends and the tallest girl in the class.

Duh!

The tall girl pushed the smaller girl out of the way and sat down on the bench the smaller girl claimed was hers, saying, "Bite me."

The smaller girl looked as if she might cry any minute and then she did the unexpected. She dumped her school bag on the floor in a dramatic manner and pushed at the tall girl with all her might, grunting. Taken off guard, the tall girl reached too late and hit the ground with a thud and a sharp cry. The class erupted in laughter. The tall girl recollected herself and came after the smaller girl, furious. Her hands missed the smaller girl by an inch, as the smaller girl ducked out of harm's way.

"Don't touch me. You are not my mother!" the smaller girl shouted, punching, and kicking at her attacker. The oddity of the match made the bystanders unwilling to interfere. As opposed to the expectation, the smaller girl was fast and dodged every blow, which infuriated the tall girl into making clumsy moves and falling all over herself, causing the class to laugh harder. The foxes barely heard the bell ringing outside with the noise.

"What is going on here, girls?" Senior Laura demanded from the doorway, bringing everything to a halt when her voice filtered through the noise. No one had seen or heard her walk in. The foxes all turned guilty eyes on her.

"She... she took my seat, senior. I was here first!" The smaller girl wasted no time pointing a finger at the tall girl.

"It's a lie, senior. This seat was empty when I came into the classroom!" the tall girl cried in her defence.

Senior Laura listened to the two girls argue about whose seat it was and then raised her hand in a silencing motion. "Fighting is not allowed in this school. I will let you off with a warning since today is the first day of class. Try this again and see what happens. You," she said, pointing at the tall girl. "Go to the back of the class and pick a seat."

The tall girl rose from the bench grudgingly, glared at the smaller girl, and stormed to the back of the class.

The smaller girl stuck her tongue out at the tall girl, grinning from cheek to cheek, but Senior Laura wiped the smile right off her face by saying, "And you, go and sit there." Senior Laura was pointing at an occupied seat somewhere on the third row. The girl occupying the seat in question cried out, "Weh, senior!"but Senior Laura ignored her plea and said, "Come and sit this way." The other girl sulked and exchanged seats reluctantly with the smaller girl.

"Be on the assembly ground with the rest of the school in two minutes," Senior Laura said to the class before walking out the door. The foxes hurried out of the classroom, each securing their respective seats with a school bag.

***

Morning assembly wasn't that different from primary school. It started with singing and clapping, prayers, singing the national anthem and then the students retreating to their respective classrooms. Fabiola gathered during the short-lived activity that the second cycle—lower and upper sixth—made up a very small portion of the school. They couldn't be more than sixty or so in a crowd of close to two hundred and something first cycle students. Unlike the black and white uniforms worn by the first cycle—forms one through five—the second cycle wore short, tight fitting grey skirts and cream white blouses with cream white school pullovers. The sandals were the same design for the whole school.

While observing the crowd, Fabiola looked down at her feet consciously to discover that in the rush to be the first Up-campus, she'd soiled her socks in dust, and they looked brown and pitiful in comparison to the old-students—a general phenomenon with the foxes. Her school skirt was dusty around the edges and had smudges of dirt from the numerous times she had tripped and fallen in the race to the top of the hill. She did not understand how the old students maintained the immaculate look though.

***

8.30am prompt, Fabiola watched the shortest man she had ever seen walk into the classroom and introduce himself.

"Good morning class. My name is Mr Mokum Clement, and I am your mathematics teacher." The short man proceeded to scribble something on the blackboard and then asked the girls to stand and introduce themselves one after the other. When the introductions were over, the man said he was pleased to meet them and said to, "Take out your mathematics books".

The foxes exchanged confused looks among themselves.

"Oh!" Mr Clement cried when he saw the lost looks on the girls' faces, slapping a hand to his forehead. "I meant, take out your arithmetic books. It is mathematics in secondary school, not arithmetic, understood?"

The foxes cried, "Yes, teacher!" in unison.

The man suppressed a smile. "You will refer to me as sir, not teacher. You are not in primary school anymore, girls!"

"Yes, sir!" the foxes chorused.

The man turned to the blackboard and started scribbling jargon.

***

Fabiola had no idea how long ma-the-ma-tics class was supposed to go on for, but her stomach was growling violently twenty minutes in, a reminder that she had missed breakfast. As excited as she was when the teacher—sir—asked them to copy the scheme of work from the blackboard into their exercise books, she kept yawning tearfully. The class surged when a bell sounded outside.

"Stop the noise and sit down! That was the warning bell and class is never over until I say so," Mr Clement said to the class. He was a petite man but there was no mistaking the underlying sternness in his voice. The girls settled.

"You can go now. And take your tea cups along," he said when another bell sounded five minutes later. It was already noisy outside. The foxes waited until Mr Clement was out of the classroom before pushing out the door. They had not questioned it at the time, but Dorm-cap had insisted they put their teacups in their school bags. The foxes followed the old-students cluelessly to the front of the two-storey building, which housed the school labs. A part of Fabiola dared not hope it was breakfast because she had already mourned missing it. Luckily for her, four steaming pots of tea and several baskets of bread waited on the veranda in front of the cookery lab.

How thoughtful of the seniors.

The refectoand her assistant conducted the distribution of a loaf each and a cup of tea per student starting with the foxes. After waiting their turn in line, Fabiola and Yvonne joined a section populated by foxes and ate breakfast while standing out in the open. When the rest of the school was served breakfast, the plump refecto asked if anyone needed more, and by more, she only meant more tea. The bread was long gone. A good number of the foxes rushed towards the cooling pots of tea and had their tea cups refilled. The last fox on the line tripped on the edge of her skirt and fell, spewing tea all over herself. A group of old-students standing nearby burst into provocative laughter. A kind old-student walked up to the sobbing fox and helped her to her feet. The group of old-students was still laughing, only this time, they weren't just laughing at the one fox; they were openly making fun of fox uniforms.

Fabiola had not noticed the difference before. With the exception of the foxes, the first cycle uniforms looked thoughtfully refitted and stylish. The foxes looked out of place in overflowing pleated black skirts that barely fit at the waist and shirts with pullovers that looked as though they were originally meant for girls three sizes larger. Other than being oversized, the fox uniforms looked like they had been slept in and trampled on. Fabiola spent no longer than a minute noting the details though, because the inferiority disappeared as soon as it appeared. She did not understand why she was being laughed at or why her outfit mattered so much to the old-students.

***

After breakfast, the girls retreated to the classrooms once again and were immediately greeted by another teacher who asked them to introduce themselves and copy the scheme of work from the blackboard. The rest of the day followed in the same fashion, punctuated by a thirty-minute break at midday. At the end of the school day, Fabiola was still thrilled to be attending secondary school where everything was different from primary school but mostly she felt over-taught and hungry.

***

Four days later, Fabiola's mind was made up about a few things. She definitely hated _ma-the-ma-tics_ , adored English language and _li-te-ra-ture_ , was undecided about _phy-sics_ , confused by _che-mis-try_ , and totally and utterly afraid of French.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The actuality of attending secondary school still had Fabiola invigorated five days later. The routine started every morning at 5.00am with the sound of the school bell summoning her tired and unwilling limbs from slumber, a cold bath, morning Mass, the sweaty trip Up-campus, Mathematics, breakfast, more classes, Down-campus, lunch, siesta, another bath, evening prayer, supper, night prep and then bed. It all started over again before she could even close her eyes.

Despite having to work harder than she had ever done in her entire life, a part of Fabiola felt privileged to be a part of the programme. She'd been caught on more than one occasion, nodding off when she wasn't supposed to be, especially during morning Mass and night prep, which earned a few lashes from Mr Cane. The foxes had coined the name Mr Cane to best describe the discipline master who was always waving a cane around the campus, ready to take on lists of names for disobeying the school rules. Mr Cane preferred to deliver his punishments in the mornings, especially after morning Mass when the flesh was steeped and stiff from the cold and sensitive to the cane.

Night prep was the dullest and longest activity of the day. The first hour was spent doing homework—assignments—and Fabiola spent the next one hour and a half torturing herself by pretending to read while fighting to stay awake and out of the list of "students caught sleeping during prep".The students were not allowed to so much as cough or take a walk outside during this activity, except in case of an emergency, and there were spies everywhere making sure of that.

Friday night was extra cold during prep and no matter how badly Fabiola wished for the comfort of her blanket or how deeply she burrowed into her school pullover, the time did not seem to run any faster. The refectory that served as a grand room for almost every school activity including night prep, was designed such that it barely preserved any heat despite being filled to the brim by the entire first cycle. The second cycle occupied a different section on the administrative block during prep.

The cold reminded Fabiola of how much she envied the old-students for their insightfulness. Unlike the foxes who had just the blue school pullover and an assorted white one, the old-students possessed a variety of assorted sweaters, socks, and mufflers for the cold, which were only allowed during night prep and on weekends. Apart from the cold, Fabiola sensed an underlying current of excitement in the pupils— _students._

Right! I keep forgetting that I'm a student now.

It was Friday night and the promise of the weekend ahead was lifting. There was a list of promising extra-curricular activities in the school general timetable for the weekend, which were fewer than during the week and with the exception of classes. Fabiola planned to crash the entire weekend to make up for the lack of sleep. Just as the thought ran through her mind, the school bell announced the end of prep and she was out of the door before it finished ringing.

Antoinette pulled Fabiola and Yvonne aside before they could reach the dormitory and asked them to move the food in their trunk to her trunk. She said that the snacks would be safer in her trunk. Fabiola blatantly refused the offer, and Yvonne remained quiet, quivering disapprovingly. Yvonne had cried an awful lot that week because of Antoinette and Fabiola hated to see her cry. Antoinette came to their trunk whenever she wanted and ate their food without permission and without caution. When she was through intimidating them, she gave Yvonne an ultimatum to either add the food to her own trunk or stop being her Small and then walked away. Fabiola offered to share her Big with Yvonne as consolation.

The angry boom of Dorm-cap's voice was vibrating through the walls of the dormitory when Fabiola and Yvonne stepped through the door. It was unlike Dorm-cap to let latecomers slip by her ever-watchful eye, but she let Fabiola and Yvonne in without so much as a second glance.

"I know that one of you did it, so own up now or the whole dormitory will pay for this," Dorm-cap was addressing the dormitory. The door swung open just as Fabiola and Yvonne reached their space, and a group of seniors marched into the dormitory. They walked up to Dorm-cap and spoke in low voices.

"What is going on?" Fabiola asked her ndang'a,not realising in the heat of the moment that she had sworn never to speak to the girl.

"Someone defecated in Hiris' bucket and nobody knows who did it. Dorm-cap is trying to expose the culprit," her ndang'a* whispered back excitedly.

Fabiola drew her nose up in disgust. "What?"

Her ndang'a*"mm-hmm"-ed, cheerfully.

"When did this happen? Where is it?" Fabiola asked, not actually wanting to hear the answer.

"During prep I think. I heard Hiris carried the bucket outside."

"Why are you so happy about it? The act is disgusting. I hope they catch whoever did it," Fabiola stated.

"She deserves it. That girl is too mouthy."

Fabiola could not believe the contentment in her bunkmate's voice. She shook her head, remembering why she did not get along with the girl. She was a bully and a traitor.

The victim, Hiris, was a very popular girl. Hiris gained celebrity status in the school after the slanderous song she sang on introduction night. Rumour had it that in some way, her claim in the lyrics to the song, was factual and that she'd succeeded to out and ridicule quite a few seniors without consequence. The song wasn't Hiris' only route to fame. She was considered the loudest girl in the school and also said to have claimed to be the most beautiful. More than half the school referred to Hiris as "that dry-dry girl"and complained that she "had too much mouth".The first time Fabiola noticed Hiris was on the first day of class where Hiris fought over a seat in class with a girl two times her size and twice as powerful. The second time was in the refectory over food. Hiris was always in a fight of some kind, either for gossiping or for causing trouble. Not many people liked Hiris.

Fabiola grimaced again just thinking about the idea of someone's faeces in her bathing bucket. News of the incident must have spread because the dormitory was now swarming with seniors and the noise coming from outside indicated that a crowd had gathered as well.

The harsh sound of Dorm-cap's whip falling against wood drew everyone's attention. "Girls, I am warning you. Own up now before this gets out of hand," she said.

"What an evil act? These girls are possessed. How can someone do something like this?" one of the seniors was saying to her mates. They all agreed, appalled.

Fabiola understood how grave the situation was when the crowd outside started banging on the door and demanding that the culprit be brought out, after being denied entry by the seniors.

"I think it is because I have been lenient with these girls," Dorm-cap said to herself before ordering the foxes, "Kneel down and stay kneeling until the culprit owns up. I don't care if it takes all night."

The other seniors made sure that the foxes were kneeling as instructed.

***

An hour later, the foxes were still kneeling and the culprit had not owned up despite the varying tactics used to threaten and interrogate them. The crowd outside had lost interest and the seniors had exited the dorm as well, leaving Dorm-cap to deal with her girls alone.

"It is clear that some of you are possessed and in need of exorcism. Everyone, fetch your Bibles and get back on your knees!" Dorm-cap instructed the foxes adamantly.

Once the Bibles were fetched, she began, "Oh God our father in heaven. I commit these little ones into your merciful hands. The vessel is childlike but evil lurks in the heart. Reveal the culprit, Father... " Dorm-cap's eyes were closed as she prayed, the determination and commitment in her voice compelling everyone to pray along.

An hour into the prayer session, Fabiola's knees were sore from kneeling for too long on the hard floor and her bones were trembling from the cold. For some reason, the lights were still on, and falling asleep was not an option because Dorm-cap's cane and vigilance would not allow it. She made the foxes recite Psalm 51 and 32 for so long that the words were beginning to blur. Sometime around 2.00am, most of the girls, including Fabiola, had dozed off on their knees.

Fabiola found herself on her bunk the next morning and she had no recollection of how she got there.

***

Saturday was not what Fabiola expected it would be. It was 11.00am and she still hadn't gotten a moment to herself. Choir practice had followed the morning Mass, breakfast, and then intensive chores. Now she sat outside on the lawn, surrounded by a pile of dirty clothes that required to be hand washed. Dorm-cap had insisted that each fox took their dirty clothes outside and wash. The foxes steered clear of Dorm-cap and out of trouble because she was obviously still upset from not catching the culprit the night before.

Fabiola observed as the rest of the school went about doing their _laun-dry._ She had never washed a single garment in her life except for her underwear, which entailed a flimsy rub between her palms and then rinsing off. She did the wearing and soiling and her mother took care of the rest. Unthinkingly, she had run through almost every garment she owned during the week, and there was a pile at her feet.

"Fabiola. What is wrong? Why are you crying?" Fabiola did not realise that she was crying until Joan walked up and touched her on the arm.

Fabiola wiped guiltily at her eyes. "I'm fine," she said, busying herself with soaking a few of her dirty clothes in water.

"You have never washed your clothes before, have you?" Joan asked knowingly.

Fabiola hesitated and then nodded. She was not sure if it was wise to admit that she was afraid of her own clothes, but Joan's ever-kind smile encouraged her. Joan removed the already soaked clothes from the bucket, squeezed, and set them aside.

"First, you pour a handful of detergent into the water and stir until it's foamy, then... "

Fabiola watched Joan demonstrate. She only knew what the word _de-ter-gent_ meant when Joan picked up the box of Omoher mother had put in her trunk and pulled the strap off before pouring a generous quantity into the water.

"You have to separate the whites from the other colours," Joan said as she soaked the white garments in the foamy water. "Give the detergent time to penetrate the fabric." She showed Fabiola how to hand-wash the clothes and asked her to do the same. "Put a little bit of strength into it. Concentrate on the collar, the armpit, and scrub harder on the stains."

Fabiola scrubbed, breath laboured. She did not like the chore one bit but she was hell-bent on impressing her Big. After hanging the clothes on the clothesline, they moved onto scrubbing her school sandals. Joan congratulated Fabiola on a job well done after that and left, instructing Fabiola to collect the clothes after sundown and bring to her dormitory for ironing.

It was mostly just the old-students who owned irons—specifically charcoal irons—electric irons were prohibited in the school. All electrical appliances, save for the switches, had been removed from the dormitories after a student electrocuted herself years past. A few students were dismissed over the years for attempting to device wall sockets in the dormitories. The school was also very sceptical about giving the junior students charge of charcoal irons because of the fear that the careless disposal of hot coals might lead to a fire. The school authority had been promising the students an ironing room for years though.

When Fabiola took her clothes to Joan's dormitory as instructed, she was amazed to see Joan's mates using stainless steel dishes to cook over charcoal irons; mostly frying spices to complement their meals.

During supper that night, Joan entered the refectory fashionably late, walked up to Fabiola's table with a tin of sardines in her hand, dished out a copious amount unto Fabiola's plate of jollof rice* and then walked away. Everyone was gawking at the two of them because it was a grand gesture from a Big to a Small, especially in public.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Twenty days later.

"Hey, Berinyuy, where is your boockiit?Do you want to go to the doomitory?She thinks I am jooking?"

Berinyuy, subject of the joke, bowed her head wounded and ran past the group of mean girls tormenting her. Hiris, the gang leader of four mean girls, jeered as Berinyuy ran. Every morning during breakfast, Hiris and her friends swallowed breakfast faster than anyone and waited by the classroom door with verbal ambush for every fox who walked by. The mean girls had it out especially for Berinyuy and her tribespeople—the Banso tribe—because of their accent. Berinyuy never spoke to anyone for fear of saying the wrong thing and as a result was always isolated. That did not make Hiris want to torture Berinyuy any less, especially going out of her way to pronounce the "nyuy" in Berinyuy, as was the common style with Banso names.

Fabiola had come to understand that a handful of Cameroonian dialects influenced English pronunciations and as a result were burlesqued on a general standpoint by those fortunate to speak dialects that did not influence the way they spoke English. Even the scapegoats made fun of others. The most common examples of these dialects according to Fabiola were the Banso dialect, considered to be the most pronounced and most mocked seconded by the Batibo dialect with its sing-song accent and then the Kom dialect with the R and L problem where R had the tendency to be pronounced as L and vice versa.

Hiris had even coined the words "Bansoo toongue"to best describe the Banso accent, which if Fabiola was being unbiased, she would explain to be the tendency to use the "u" sound where the "o" sound was required and vice versa. The refectorian and the labour prefect were both Banso and whenever they took the stage to make an announcement, the whole school erupted in scornful laughter. The school principal and a bulk of the teachers were also Banso but the students refrained from openly making fun of them for fear of consequence.

"Hey, Fabiola," Hiris called, blocking Fabiola from entering the classroom.

Fabiola halted, knowing from experience what was to come next.

"Fa-bio-la, why is your skirt long like that?* Huh?" Hiris asked, suppressing a laugh.

Fabiola took a deep breath and waited with arms akimbo.

"Fabiola, your skirt is so big and long it makes you look like a mosquito in colang,"Falone, Hiris' best friend and partner in crime contributed, and the crew burst out laughing.

Fabiola made a face and pushed her way into the classroom. It was all Fabiola could do because there was literally nothing with which to hit the mean girls. They were all tall, skinny, pretty, and void of any physical flaws. Somehow, even their school uniforms seemed refitted and stylish, and one never spotted a speck of dirt or ruffles on their person. Fabiola had originally assumed that the big-girls were her worse nightmare. The big-girls were all muscle and threats. The mean girls on the other hand were all bone and words; words that hurt worse than any whip or threat. No matter how many times the school authority sanctioned the mean girls for their acts; they always came up with new ways to torture their mates.

"My name na Agatha. I comot from Bafut. I go beat you ehn."* The pranking continued after Fabiola entered the classroom. Hiris deepened her voice to mimic Agatha's. There was no doubt that Agatha might never outlive the joke. Agatha had become the school's biggest joke for being a Pidgin English champion. The school originally assumed that Agatha's inability to construct a proper English sentence was as a result of unwillingness, but she proved beyond doubt that she was disabled in that faculty and eventually was tagged a lost cause. Agatha did not seem bothered by the fact though. Thanks to her bulky physique and reputation for being weird, Hiris and her crew could only mock her from a distance.

"Hey, Fusi. Did you wet the bed last night and tried to hide it this morning?" Hiris went onto the next fox after Agatha walked past with a meaningful glare.

Atem and her crew walked by, and Hiris let them pass without a word. They were the exception.

"Hey, Ansah, stop eating under your blanket at night. We see you." Even Fabiola laughed at the joke. Ansah had somehow been tagged the most stingy girl in form one. She was often accused of only ever eating under her blanket and once it was lights out.

"Bapete, the stench from your armpits just bombed a village somewhere." The ever-naïve Bapete smiled uncaringly and walked into the classroom.

"Brutus. What kind of name is that? Are you a boy?"

"Ludwig, you are so tiny, sometimes I swear I see a butterfly when I look at you. I think I will start calling you 'Ludwig the butterfly' from now on. What do you think?" The girl in question stuck her tongue out at the mean girls and flew by. Ludwig really did not walk though; she floated like a butterfly.

"Yvonne, why is your head so big? Is there a storage unit in there?"

"Hey, Hiris!" someone called from the back of the class. "You girls are lucky that beating is not allowed in this school. I would have beaten the fear of the Lord into you."

Fabiola turned and saw a girl she only knew as Fru provoking Hiris. Hiris did not respond to the threat. She knew better. Fru was the class Goliath and protector of the weak. She was greatly loved by those not strong enough to protect themselves from people like Hiris.

"Hey, Hiris... chin-chin foot.You look like a hungry mosquito. Look at your legs; they look like drumsticks that are about to break." Spurred on by Fru's courage, another girl threw words at Hiris. Catcalls went up in the class. The second antagonist, Anatole, was Hiris' arch-enemy and also one of the class bullies. Anatole surpassed Hiris physically but they bumped shoulders on everything. Anatole hit Hiris once and suffered serious punishment at the principal's hand. Now the rivalry between the two of them was reduced to verbal abuse.

"Ana... toilette. Have you seen your waist? You look like an improper fraction," Hiris retorted causing Anatole's face to flame and the class to laugh harder.

"Did you just insult me?" Anatole stood and approached Hiris.

"Girls, settle down, take out your readers, and open to page four," a familiar voice interrupted. A great portion of the class had not seen Madame T, the English teacher, walk into the classroom. The tension disappeared immediately and everyone hurried to their respective seats. Madame T was known for her obsession with the ruler and the knuckles. She carried a ruler everywhere she went and never missed an opportunity to use it on her students.

"Agatha. Read the first passage," Madame T said the minute she scribbled "English Language" on the blackboard.

Agatha began trembling instantly. The class cooed. Agatha was Madame T's favourite, and it had become customary for Madame T to walk into the classroom and ask Agatha to read a passage from the English reader.

"Silence!" Madame T ordered. "Agatha. Commence."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

A month and a half or so into the school term, the dynamics seemed to have changed. The days dragged on lengthier and ravenous than before, and the nights grew colder. The students had run out of secondary food sources and the powerhouseremained the sole source of sustenance. The students did not know when exactly, but there were rumours of an upcoming Visiting Day; the only time in the school term that the parents were allowed to visit with their children. The thrill of attending secondary school had crashed to a familiar routine that had its good and bad moments. Fabiola began to notice how long maths class was and spent half the time in class yawning tearfully and wondering why breakfast did not come before classes. The threat of Mr Clement's ever-looming cane kept her alert but barely concentrated.

Maybe it was the long hours spent on an empty or nearly full stomach playing tricks on her, but Fabiola swore the loaf of bread for breakfast dropped a pound with each passing day. Even drinking lots of tea to make up for the deficiency only caused more hunger. Then she had to face an entire day of school with a variety of teachers each with a different teaching technique. She spent a greater part of the day in class thinking about food.

During this period of warmsun,the meals served in the school shrunk in serving size and became worse in taste. Other than lamenting over food shortages, the desire to eat waned somewhere between dreading the tastelessness and separating the weevils from the corn-chaffand beans, especially the beans that was served more times a week than was necessary. No matter how carefully Fabiola picked at her food, a weevil always managed to sneak its way into her mouth. She had not noticed the weevils at first, skipped the meals entailing beans and corn when she had, but now in the event of having no snacks to fall back on because of Antoinette's greed and having ravished almost everything in her trunk, she had no choice but to endure what the school served. It was either that or stay hungry, and the latter was not an option. A handful of old-students had either been suspended or gravely punished for scaling the fence to look for sustenance.

Even the students who rejected or bragged about not eating certain school meals like cooked garri or snacks such as crank-crank* before, were seen shamelessly devouring these foods in the open or hiding in the dark after night prep so that no one would see them. Hiris and her goons wasted no time outing those. Some students, especially the foxes did not even lock their naked trunks anymore. A few foxes, especially those obsessed with complements, had substituted toothpaste for bread spread; an act that was frowned on by the school authority for health reasons. The foxes also cultivated habits like attempting to produce home-made candy by placing a cube or two of sugar on a silver spoon and holding over a candle to melt and later solidify into a candy-like substance.

Rice, however, tasteless and insufficient, remained the only food close to decent that was not served nearly enough times a week. A tiny slice of fried fish—the only animal protein on the school menu—complemented rice and soup on Wednesdays, the most sought after meal of the week. The old-students traded puff-puffon Saturdays with the foxes for a slice of fish on Wednesdays. Dinner was a nightmare for Fabiola; cooked garri four times a week with all kinds of greasy soups that tasted like armpit and feet combined. Rumour had it that the school dog defecated and spread lice in the dried okro*and garden eggs used for these soups. The rumours maintained that cooked garri and corn-fufufor supper—both high-carb foods—was the reason students could barely keep their eyes open during night prep. Fabiola could not wait until Visiting Day to tell her mother all this.

"Fabiola! Yvonne! My space, now!"

It was yet another weekend and Fabiola was just about to take her laundry outside when Dorm-cap roared her name. She could have speculated with Yvonne about what they'd done to incur Dorm-cap's wrath before heading over, but Yvonne was acting funny towards Fabiola since the snacks in their trunk finished. Fabiola asked Yvonne on several occasions what was going on with her and Yvonne always replied with a "nothing". Whatever it was, it was definitely not "nothing" and it bugged Fabiola. It was strange for her not to be able to confide in Yvonne.

"Did I not just call for the two of you?" Dorm-cap's voice sounded closer than before. Fabiola abandoned what she was doing and rushed to Dorm-cap's space with Yvonne on her heels.

"Senior?" they called for her attention once they got there.

"Kneel," Dorm-cap snarled.

By then, it wasn't unusual for Dorm-cap to greet her students with the order, so Fabiola and Yvonne went down on their knees simultaneously. Fabiola knew exactly what the summon was about when she spotted Bapete, their classmate and the dirtiest girl in the school also kneeling on Dorm-cap's space, head bowed and cheeks tear-stained. Dorm-cap sat on her bed, in the only spacious and beautifully decorated space in the dorm, munching a bowl of cornflakes and ignoring her subjects. It was just the stingy or careful ones like Dorm-cap who still had snacks left in their trunks.

"Bapete told me that the two of you deceived her and ate the cookies in her trunk. Is that true?" Dorm-cap asked between mouthfuls, pinning Fabiola and Yvonne each with a look. She had a habit of taking in strays for Smalls and all the dorm's misfits were under her wing. Her band of misfits were: Hiris, the mean girl; Falone, the other mean girl; Fusi, the bed wetter; Annabelle, the rumoured thief; Agatha, the Pidgin English champion; and Bapete. The list went on. Other than being the dirtiest girl in the school, Bapete was also the fattest, foulest, and rumoured to be _"a little slow in the head"_. Dorm-cap did not accord these girls any special treatment; instead she bestowed upon them the harshest and strictest of her attention. From all indications, her aim was to instil the fear of the Lord in them.

"Bapete. Repeat what you just told me," Dorm-cap said to Bapete who refused to raise her head, seeming interested in a spot on the fractured floor. Fabiola could sniff the stench coming from Bapete all the way from across the space. Some girls claimed that Bapete never took a bath.

"Bapete, am I not talking to you?"

Bapete spared Dorm-cap a shy glance but refused to look at Fabiola and Yvonne. "They said that they would become friends with me if I gave them my cookies. I gave them and now I don't have anything left in my trunk. I'm hungry." Bapete was in tears by the time she finished slurring her claim.

It had been a week or so ago, and Fabiola with Yvonne might have pretended to befriend Bapete for the goodies in her trunk. They ended up eating about two boxes of cookies from Bapete's trunk.

What does it matter anyway? Bapete is the one going around foolishly flaunting the fact that the prime minister is her uncle and that she has more pocket allowance and food than she knows what to do with. Plus, her "wealthy" parents visited her like every other week—a privilege that was only given to a few like Bapete thanks to their wealthy backgrounds. The school did not want to create bad blood with its benefactors, now, did they?

"It's a lie, senior. We were passing by her space the other day and she offered us a cookie each, voluntarily, and we accepted," Yvonne was the first to say.

"Yvonne is telling the truth, senior. We did not promise Bapete friendship and we did not force her to do anything she did not want to do." Fabiola was surprised at how easy the lie sprung from her lips. The only reason Bapete was playing the victim was because she was desperate for friends and nobody wanted to be her friend even with the food in her trunk.

Dorm-cap regarded all three girls carefully. "Red-face?"she said, referring to Fabiola. Fabiola replied, "Dorm-cap," and waited. Dorm-cap turned to Yvonne. "Yvonne?" "Dorm-cap," Yvonne responded. "You know what I will do to you if I find out that you are lying, right?" Dorm-cap addressed the both of them and they nodded innocently.

"Fusi! My space, now!" Dorm-cap yelled to no one in particular and Fusi, one of her Smalls, came running to the space. She wasn't asked to kneel.

"Bapete told me that you saw Fabiola and Yvonne eating her cookies. Is that true?" Dorm-cap directed the question at Fusi.

Fabiola knew she was screwed the minute the question was asked. She knew for a fact that Fusi had seen them eat the cookies because she and Bapete shared a space by the door, designed that way because of Fusi's constant bedwetting and Bapete's body odour. Nobody wanted to be friends with either of them.

Fusi regarded Fabiola and Yvonne carefully and to Fabiola's surprise, turned to Dorm-cap and said, "Bapete is lying, senior. She shared her cookies with half of the dormitory and forced them on Fabiola and Yvonne even when they refused to accept. She kept telling everyone that she had more."

Fabiola's jaw fell, and try as she did, she could not figure out why Fusi would lie for them given that they had joined the crowd on more than one occasion and made fun of Fusi for wetting the bed. It was no secret the battle among Dorm-cap's Smalls to win her favour _but still_ —

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, senior." Fusi's response was firm.

"She is lying, senior," Bapete insisted, crying.

"Shut up, Bapete. This is the last time you will lie to me," Dorm-cap roared, shoving a finger threateningly at Bapete before turning to Fabiola and Yvonne. "Disappear to your space, now!*

Both girls rose and rushed off.

"Thank you," Fabiola said to Fusi once they were out of earshot, too relieved to ask why Fusi had lied for them. Fusi acknowledged Fabiola's gratitude with a nod and walked away.

***

"Give me the key to the trunk," Fabiola said to Yvonne once they were back on their space.

Yvonne was busy rearranging her locker. "What do you want to do with the key?" Yvonne asked.

Fabiola frowned. "I need soap."

"The soap you brought to school is finished."

"What are you talking about? There is still soap in the trunk."

"I know that there is still soap in the trunk but it's mine. Yours is finished. You brought four bars to school. You've used two, shared one, and lost one. The only soap left in the trunk is mine. I cannot let you finish it."

Fabiola drew back, shocked. "Since when?" she asked. "I thought we shared everything?"

"Not anymore," Yvonne stated, abandoning her task to glare coldly at Fabiola. "You use more of my things than I do yours, and I am tired of it. I should have listened to my Big. I had more things than you, and it's not fair that we have to share everything equally."

The words caught Fabiola across the face, and she took a couple of wobbly steps backwards, muttering, "Ok" when she could find her voice. Yvonne turned back to her locker and Fabiola retreated quietly. Her next stop was to Ansah's space who was more than willing to help with a bar of soap. Fabiola's only response to Ansah's interrogation was that she was out of soap.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Warm-sun was not the only thing plaguing the school at this time; the number of stolen and missing items were snowballing. The rampant thievery that had begun at the same time as the maddening hunger was such that the foxes were in a near state of destitution. More than half the items they'd brought to school were either missing, stolen, or tattered. Close to eighty per cent of the foxes, including Fabiola, did not wear socks and headscarves to school anymore because of this situation. A majority of them had lost their white gowns, Bibles and hymnals—all items that were considered extremely important especially where morning Mass was concerned—all cases that warranted flogging by Mr Cane.

Close to fifty per cent of the foxes did not own school pullovers anymore, which ensured a persistent epidemic of influenza and other cold related illnesses. Fabiola's school pullover and bag had been assaulted by a needle and thread so many times that she looked like a decorated tree in them. Most of her mates had lost their school bags and had to cradle their books to school every morning.

The foxes weren't the only ones suffering from this klepto-era;the entire school faced a similar predicament, only more pronounced in the junior section. It was unheard of to hang three garments on the clothesline and retrieve all. Some old-students resorted to standing guard over drying clothes. The refecto had stopped checking cutlery during meals because some students, especially the foxes, barely even had plates to eat from. Not a day went by without someone banging on the dorm doors to announce a stolen item, or make open announcements during meals, in the seniors' case.

"If I catch the person who stole my sandals!"

"If I catch the person who stole my underwear!"

"If I catch the person who stole my school pullover!"

If I catch, If I catch, If I catch—the announcements started and ended the same way. Dorm-cap went out of her way on several occasions pleading with the foxes to contribute items like underwear, uniform, and money to help their mates whose school items had all been stolen. She even organised a prayer session once, dedicated to the voleur(s),where the foxes were expected to say a heartfelt prayer each, for the cause. The thief(s) identity(s) remained a mystery. There were suspects but that was just hearsay. Dorm-cap cautioned her girls at one point to use sewing class to their advantage and embroider names on the garments they had left. The trick only worked for a lucky few because the thread could easily be pulled out and replaced.

Dorm-cap also became meaner and sterner during this period, always blaming the foxes for giving her a bad name. She made the foxes work twice as hard but no matter what she did, the St Claire's Dormitory remained the dirtiest dormitory in the entire school.

"You are the worst badge of foxes I've ever dealt with and I have been doing this a long time," Dorm-cap complained one day. "Have you seen the colour of your socks, white gowns, and shirts? I don't even know what that colour is anymore... because it's definitely not white. What do you girls do when you go out to do laundry? Huh? Talking about how... 'senior, I just finished doing my laundry'."

Dorm-cap was right. In comparison to the rest of the school, the foxes' white garments were a far cry from white, for those who still had school uniforms anyway. Fabiola did not understand why her white garments kept turning brown despite the effort she put into scrubbing on laundry day. The most frustrating part was that Georgia, the cleanest girl in form one, Hiris and her crew, and a few others, still managed to maintain the 'white', which set them as a standard for people like Fabiola. Fabiola planned on having her mother replace every school item on Visiting Day though. She had sent a letter home, with details of everything she needed from her mother on that day. The only thing that kept her going through the hard times was the thought of seeing her mother again.

"Fa... you will not even imagine that they have stolen all my pants ya,"* Yvonne complained to Fabiola one day in tears. "I don't have even one-eye pant left. And they stole that my nice nightie also. They are over-stealing in this school."*

"It's ok," Fabiola said to the dejected Yvonne, refusing to let their recent difference in opinion crowd her judgement. "Take these two. I've not worn them." Underwear was the one thing Fabiola had in excess. Her mother always made sure of that kind of thing. A few of her pants had been stolen from the clothesline as well until she learned the trick to keep them away from thieves, along with various ways to guard what little she had left.

"Don't hang your pants outside anymore. Put them under your towel, on a hanger and hang beside your bed. That way, no one would even know it's there," Fabiola cautioned.

"Thanks," Yvonne said gratefully.

***

"We found the thief oh! We found the thief!"

Fabiola was in the dormitory when an alarm was raised. It was a Sunday afternoon, and the students were preparing for Benediction. Like everyone else, Fabiola ran in the direction of the noise. Just outside the St Jude's Dormitory, was a group of agitated old-students condemning a bow headed individual and shouting, "Thief! Panty thief! Oooh ya! We've finally caught you! Today na today You will pay for every single item that has gone missing in this school!"

Running feet sounded all around as a crowd gathered and in no time, almost the entire school had formed an excited mob around the thief, Annabelle, the fox who was repeatedly rumoured to be _"a little itchy on the fingers"_. Word had it that Annabelle tried stealing from a form five student and was caught red-handed. There were flying accusations everywhere and all the aggression was aimed at Annabelle. Fabiola watched Annabelle. Despite the fact that the walls were collapsing in on her, Annabelle seemed unfazed by what was going on around her. She showed no remorse and was focused solely on toying with the tip of her right toe in the dust. Someone forced her to her knees.

"Wear the panty on your head and march round the school campus! That will teach you a lesson!" the lead prosecutor yelled, forcing a red panty on Annabelle's head. Annabelle resisted by slapping the persecutors hands away, but four other girls joined the first and forced the panty down Annabelle's head.

"Start marching, now!" Annabelle was shoved to her feet, pushed forward, and made to march. She stumbled and fell but was pulled right back to her feet each time and made to march forward again. One of the persecutors intoned a befitting song.

V. Annabelle stole a red pant!

R. Ewa!

V. Fingersmith!

R. Ewa!

V. Ooooooyaaaa!

R. Ewa!

An animated crowd, including Fabiola, formed a line behind Annabelle, chanting the song while Annabelle marched. The seniors, legendary enforcers of the school norms and keepers of order, watched from a distance and none of them lifted a finger to stop the on-going mob justice. Senior Laura, it seemed, was not available.

***

A number of thieves were caught after that day, mostly from the junior classes, and each one of these thieves received the full attention of the mob law. A form three student was caught stealing money and was accidentally pushed into a gutter during the mandatory march round the campus where she broke her leg. The principal was alerted to these malpractices by her spies and an impromptu general assembly was called to address the issue. The principal and the discipline master presided.

"This is not a jungle and you are not animals! There is a reason why we have an authority in place. You don't get to decide who's guilty or the kind of punishment they deserve. And to think that these malpractices transpired under your noses... prefects!" The principal was outraged.

She made it clear to the unidentified mob ringleaders that mob justice was prohibited and punishable by dismissal. She also made it very clear to the thieves that her reaction was in no way a sign of support of their affliction and promised them consequences worse than mob justice if their names came up again for stealing.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

"I don't want to share a trunk with you anymore." Yvonne's words did not shock Fabiola three days later. In fact, she'd been expecting them. Yvonne's distant attitude and the constant complaining about whose fault it was that the food in their trunk was finished had only gotten worse. Fabiola reserved her comments not wanting to make a scene for the satisfaction of the onlookers.

After an amicable separation, Fabiola took her trunk to the box-room;something she had always wanted to do but could not because Yvonne did not approve of the idea. With the exception of the St Clare's Dormitory, the rest of the school only had space for their trunks in the box-room. Fabiola was fascinated by the idea that box-room visits were only allowed on weekends, and she heard that students traded off stuff during the week to settle on box-room day.

A few days after the separation, Fabiola finally decided to use the 2,000 CFA franc note her mother had given her, after carrying it around for weeks. She thought, after all, her mother would replenish her pocket money on Visiting Day— _whenever that was scheduled to take place._

Generally, it was prohibited for students to buy anything on the way Up-campus. Fabiola had made it a habit of going to school early and _oh boy!_ —the things she saw on her way to school when the old-students thought no one was looking. The old-students specifically left Down-campus earlier than was allowed and while the roads were empty and unmonitored at that hour, they dashed into the stores along the SAFRACAH Street, did their fill of shopping, and got away scot-free. Fabiola observed this for a long time and the more she saw, the more she found herself wanting to do the same. There was a particular woman who sold accra* in a box, in a corner, not too far from the road. The thought of what was inside that box made Fabiola daydream in class.

One Tuesday morning, she left Down-campus earlier than the old-students did. Just at the corner branching off the SAFRACAH Street to the steep hill leading Up-campus, she looked guiltily around to make sure that no one was watching, dashed off the road and approached the accra woman.The woman smiled knowingly at Fabiola and asked, "How much?" Fabiola said. The woman tied the deep fried cassava balls in a leaf and handed it over to Fabiola. Unfortunately for Fabiola, the woman had to find the change of 2,000 CFA francs, which meant that she had to stand there longer than necessary and risk getting caught.

For the sake of precaution, Fabiola ran back to the main road and waited for the woman to fetch her change, all the while stealing wild glances left and right to assert her safety. The woman returned just in time and Fabiola ran off, heart in hand. She ran until her feet could not carry her anymore and then paused. A look over her shoulder ensured that she was still the only one on the road. She sighed and sat down on a stone along the rocky path leading Up-campus and munched her prize greedily.

After that day, Fabiola found herself repeating the routine every morning. The obsession did not only end with accra;* sometimes she ventured as far as the shops and bought sophisticated things like gateau or candy. The hours at school became bearable and fleeting. She could even afford to skip the horrible dish of cooked garri and soup for dinner. The fact that she had never been caught only fuelled the newfound obsession.

"I saw you." Fabiola spun to face Fusi one morning on the road leading Up-campus, heart pounding.

"What?" she asked Fusi, eyes darting around guiltily.

"I know what you do every morning when you leave for school. You know what will happen to you if you get caught, right?" Fusi's tone was accusatory and she was in Fabiola's face.

Fabiola did a quick survey to ensure that no one was eavesdropping. She'd left Down-campus later than usual that morning waiting for Ansah to finish mopping her portion, so she could use Ansah's rag. As a result, she had not observed her morning routine because the road was dotted with students at that hour.

"I... " Fabiola opened her mouth to deny Fusi's claim, but Fusi pinned her with an all-knowing smirk, arms crossed challengingly over her chest. Fusi was taller than Fabiola and plump—probably the same age as Fabiola—but the seriousness in her eyes made her seem older. Since the cookie incident, Fabiola was finding it continually difficult to shake off Fusi. Fusi followed Fabiola around everywhere making pathetic attempts at becoming friends, and Fabiola had made it clear in subtle and blunt ways that she was not interested but the girl had a head thicker than a brick wall. Fabiola did not want to become friends with a girl who smelled like pee all the time and be made fun of by association.

Fabiola sighed, keeping her voice discreet. "What do you want for your silence?"

Fusi waited for a group of students to walk past them before saying, "I don't want anything from you. I just wanted you to know that I know your little secret." With that, Fusi swung around and started walking.

Fabiola rolled her eyes with a huff and ran after Fusi. "Are you going to report me or what?" Fusi kept walking. "Please don't tell anyone," Fabiola pleaded at last.

Fusi stopped and turned to Fabiola. "I will think about it."

Fabiola rolled her eyes some more. They made the rest of the trip in silence, side by side.

***

Fabiola did not have long to worry about what Fusi had decided because the next day, just as she stepped out of the school gates, Fusi called after her, "Fabiola, wait!"

Fabiola made an exaggerated eye roll.

"Wait for me!" Fusi insisted, running after Fabiola.

"For what?* So that you can blackmail me with silence?" Fabiola said when Fusi reached her.

Fusi snapped her fingers in Fabiola's face and said with an attitude, "First of all, you say, 'what for?' not 'for what?' and no, I don't want to blackmail you."

"You want what then?"* Fabiola folded her arms across her chest and waited.

"Again, it is, 'what do you want?' not 'you want what?'"

"Shut up! Nobody asked you. Mami show-show."

Fusi raised her hands in surrender. Fabiola huffed and started walking. Fusi had to run to catch up with her.

"I have an offer to make," Fusi said. Fabiola kept walking. "I have money. A lot of money actually... and I want you to help me buy something.''

"Buy it yourself," Fabiola snapped over her shoulder.

"I'm afraid to do it myself."

"Go to the school canteen then."

"You know they don't sell anything other than expensive pens and pencils in that place." No response. "We'll share." Fabiola's steps did not falter. "I will give you money every morning to buy something for both of us to eat. Anything you want. I have 5,000 francs now and I will get more later." Fabiola stopped walking. They were on the SAFRACAH Street and the road was empty save for the two of them.

Fabiola turned around to face Fusi, her head cocked and eyes squinted to size up Fusi. "I'm hearing you,"* she said with scepticism and then held her hand up when Fusi opened her mouth. "Don't. Correct. My. English."

"Ok," Fusi said, pulling out a shiny 5,000 CFA franc banknote from her school bag to hold it out to Fabiola.

Fabiola's eyes almost popped out of her head. "Wh... where did you get that kind of money from?" she whispered fiercely and then took a cautious step back. "Are you a thief?" She looked around suspiciously. "My mother warned me about girls like you." She had never seen that kind of money before in her life, talk less held it in her hand. She could feel her mother's disapproval.

Fusi chuckled. "I did not steal the money. My parents gave me 20,000 francs pocket allowance."

Wait... 20,000 francs as in... 1, 2, 3, 4... 5,000s? Wow!

"Please, just take the money and buy something for us to eat. I will watch your back."

"No, no, no." Fabiola shook her head vehemently. "You think I am stupid, don't you? You are one of Dorm-cap's Smalls and you want to trick me and then report back to her? I know what you are doing." She turned on her heel and started walking again, still shaking her head.

"Fabiola, it's not what you think. I will never report you to anyone. It's just that everything in my trunk is finished, and I am so hungry all the time. Of what use is the money my parents gave me if I can't even feed myself. Please."

It took a lot of trying to reason with Fabiola on Fusi's part to get Fabiola to stop walking. Plus, Fabiola thought to herself, _hey, I only have 800 francs left from my pocket allowance anyway. How long will that take me with the way I'm burning through?_ "Ok, but you have to keep the change, so no one accuses me of stealing money," Fabiola finally concurred. She tried not to think about what her mother would say to that.

"Really? Yes!" Fusi hopped.

Fabiola raised her eyes heavenward and snatched the money from Fusi.

"Go. I will watch your back."

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

After two months of boarding school, the excitement in the week before Visiting Day was uncontainable. For Fabiola, it felt like the week before Christmas—she always had these butterflies fluttering in her stomach prior to big feasts. The whole school was just fiddling with anxiety, waiting on a brink, waiting for Visiting Day. Fabiola did not know what Visiting Day entailed but the fact that her mother would be coming to see her was more than enough to make her understand the importance of the day.

Under strict supervision, the school campus was scrubbed and mowed to perfection in preparation for Visiting Day. The school authority even made it their responsibility to lend garments to the foxes and to employ the senior students to ensure that the foxes looked presentable on said day. The theme was to look perfect for the parents no matter what.

The results of the first tests had been released and Fabiola could not wait to tell her mother how she had performed. According to the test papers and the teachers' remarks, she had the second highest marks in form one after Ansah who had proven unbeatable so far. Fabiola and Ansah scored virtually the same marks in most subjects, except for literature and English language, where Fabiola beat Ansah. This difference would have put Fabiola at number one, but Ansah made up for her inadequacy in maths and French, at which she was extremely good and Fabiola, pathetically poor.

As Visiting Day approached, the students became very generous with the "rainy day reserves" since their trunks would be refilled in a matter of days. That was the old-students' strategy—they were more experienced with estimating future outcome. The foxes on the other hand were destitute and the weeks leading were brutal on them. Some foxes had even become renowned beggars. Fabiola still had the deal going with Fusi, and when Yvonne was not being too nosy about where the food came from, she got to have a bite.

Visiting Day started out like any other day with morning Mass, chores, breakfast, and then the girls asked to retire and wait in the dormitories. Loitering on campus, especially around the gates that stood open in invitation to the parents, was prohibited. Visitors were restricted to the canopied area on the assembly ground. The students were to stay put in the dorms and wait for their names to be announced when and if they had a visitor. It was difficult adhering to such requests given the eagerness but there was always the ever-looming threat of punishment.

Name after name was called, and each time, the student in question squealed with joy and ran to the front of the school to meet her parents. They returned carrying big bags, and once the content of the bags were secured, they went back to sit with their visitors. Visiting Day was the only day cooked food from home was allowed into the school campus and the dorm was already smelling like a fancy restaurant, five visitors in. By 1.00pm, the school was crawling with parents and by then it had become impossible for the seniors to hold back the excited crowd. Big or Small, senior or junior, the excitement and volume were wild. With or without a visitor, the students simultaneously wandered to the front of the campus to either wait for their own parents or meet the parents of a friend.

Only the wealthy families or parents with really nice cars were allowed to park in the school parking lot. These privileged families were offered special sitting areas and served food and drink while they visited with their children. The same went for children from wealthy backgrounds in all matters within the school; they were favoured above those like Fabiola who came from moderate backgrounds. Some teachers appointed themselves guardians of the students from wealthy backgrounds and reported back to their parents, for money, favours, and recognition.

Fabiola was still waiting for her mother to show up. Yvonne's mother had shown up an hour earlier and invited Fabiola to sit with them. She asked Fabiola a few questions and Fabiola nodded, mostly, unable to focus on anything but the movement at the school gate.

The crowd in the canopied area was segregated into groups of two, three or more since some students had more than one visitor. Some of the students like Yvonne were showing off their test papers to their parents. How many bags a student carried to the dormitory from her visitor or visitors had become an implicit competition and the girls showed no modesty showing off the bag sizes or content. There was also a lot of sharing, especially house-mouldbut Fabiola did not have the stomach to partake in the generosity. She wanted her mother.

The chatter and the laughter made Fabiola's stomach flutter, and every time there was a commotion at the gates, her gaze flew wildly in that direction only to have her hopes crushed when a different girl ran and lunged herself into the arms of her parents.

Why is she taking so long?

3.00pm, Fabiola's mother still hadn't shown up. Fabiola clutched her test papers tighter in her hands and concentrated her gaze on the gates, tears slowly burning their way into her eyes. The influx had slowed by then. She had a speech prepared for her mother of her experiences that she'd been practising for weeks.

4.00pm, the visitors stopped arriving all together and a majority started departing.

5.00pm, the campus was almost empty. Fabiola moved to sit on the first bench under the canopy—still waiting—still hoping. A few more minutes and the panic she tried to ignore for hours started to surface. Reality dawned on her when the last visitor stepped out of the school gates and the gatekeeper started closing the gates. She rose on shaky feet, ran to the gates, gripped the iron bars, and looked out unto the dusty Bafut road desperately hoping for a glimpse of something to soothe the fear welling up inside her. There was nothing out there except for cars taking off. She stifled a sob.

She did not realise that she was crying until she saw tears staining the front of her white gown. She was gripping onto the iron bars so tight her palms hurt, but the pain in her palms was nothing compared to the heartbreak and the disappointment threatening to consume her. She wiped at her tears stubbornly and readjusted her dress. She had to look perfect for her mother.

She will come. I know in my heart she will come. She has to. She promised, and she has never failed me before.

5.30pm was when Fabiola lost it. The road ahead was empty, and only a few students lingered at the frontage. The tears she'd been stifling burst free and came out in the form of hysterical wails. At this point, she wasn't stupid to still be clinging onto the notion that her mother was coming. Breathing hurt. Everything hurt. Everything was crushed. Her mother of all people. She did not care that she was making a scene. No one could possibly understand her pain. Lost in a fit of hysteria, a group of seniors fought to pull her from the gates but her bony fists wouldn't let go of the iron bars. At a certain point, she gave up her hold on the gate and let the hands fighting to subdue pull her away. She started kicking and thrashing in the dust mindless of the dozens trying to pin her down. She was determined to stay rooted to the spot and never leave until her mother came. She was crying so hard she could barely hear anything beyond her own screams.

"Fabiola, Fabiola," someone was saying her name. So many people were saying her name at once.

Exhaustion overtook her at a certain point, and she curled up in a ball in the dust, spaced-out and sobbing brokenly. A unique voice persisted in trying to get through to her; still she refused to look up, staring into space through tear-filled eyes. Somehow, the words Sister Jude, filtered into her misery and she looked up.

"Stand up and come with me, dear," Sister Jude said, smiling down kindly and holding out her hand to Fabiola. Fabiola wiped at her tears reluctantly, took the hand Sister Jude was offering and stood on shaky feet. Sister Jude dusted the dirt off her dress and pulled her close. Fresh tears emerged and Fabiola started crying again.

"Shh, shh, shh. It is ok. I know, I know," Sister Jude reassured, wiping at the tears in Fabiola's eyes with a white handkerchief. "Come with me," she said. Fabiola followed, zombie-like, noticing for the first time that there was a small crowd gathered and that she was the centre of attention. Yvonne, Joan, Fusi, and Ansah were all watching her sympathetically. Her feet trembled when she tried to walk and her body hurt all over. She felt tired and dehydrated.

"My mother did not come, sister. She promised," Fabiola managed in a croaky voice the minute she was seated in the principal's office. She wanted so bad to voice her grievance but every time she opened her mouth, she ended up crying.

"I know. Stop crying."

Fabiola was not trying to.

Sister Jude let her lament for a while, offering words of comfort and then like any adult would do with an eleven year-old, she pulled out a see-through plastic bag from the side drawer and handed it to Fabiola. Fabiola accepted the plastic bag with a weak thank you. It was a medium-sized baked cake with frosting. Sister Jude went into another drawer and added a bag of candy and biscuits to the cake. Fabiola was touched by her kindness and generosity and would have kissed the principal's feet under different circumstances but the void in her heart made for feeling special difficult. When Sister Jude finally released her, she wandered to the dormitory barely aware of the environment and sympathetic gestures thrown her way. It seemed like everyone had a kind word to offer. She rejected all gifts.

I'm alone in the world after all, unloved, and abandoned.

Joan and Yvonne were waiting by her bed when she reached the dorm and she ignored their attempts to comfort her as well, throwing the goodies Sister Jude gave her in her locker and climbing into bed, shoes, dirty clothes, and all. She buried her face in her pillow and closed her eyes, wishing to never wake and for everyone to leave her alone.

Dangling between sleep and heart wrenching sobs, she felt someone remove her shoes and cover her up with a blanket.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Fabiola pretty much retreated into herself after Visiting and no amount of coaxing got her out of her shell. Joan, Yvonne, and Fusi were relentless in trying to make her feel not alone. Something died inside Fabiola the day of Visiting; an innocence that withered in the face of reality and gave birth to cynicism. She did not believe that the world was painted in shiny colours anymore; anyone was capable of hurting her, a fact she'd not associated with her family. It was so unlike her mother to neglect Fabiola. She dressed in her finest every day for a week, hoping, keeping an eye out for her mother but nothing happened. A part of her still hoped that the world was playing a cruel joke on her and that her mother would show up eventually, but as the days passed by, the hope grew feeble.

"My parents did not come to visit either." A familiar face joined Fabiola on the steps leading into the refectory the day after Visiting and confided, as if they were well acquainted. Fabiola ignored the fox, praying that the girl would take her indifference as a clue to leave her alone. She was angry at the world and hurt and shouldering the weight of another person's problem did not interest her.

"My grandmother lives not too far from here and she did not show up," the other girl persisted, ignoring Fabiola ignore her. After that day, the other girl, Ngum, made sure to smile and to say "hi" to Fabiola whenever they ran into each other and she always had a story to tell Fabiola, like Fabiola cared. Ngum was one of the big-girls from a less scary crew and she was approximately two years older than Fabiola. Fabiola did not have anything against Ngum other than the fact that her crew might chew Fabiola up if she got too close.

"Girls, please don't be stingy. You have to contribute and give to those who did not have visitors. Imagine if you were in their shoes," Dorm-cap pleaded with the foxes the morning after Visiting. There were roughly three girls like Fabiola who had not had visitors. Fabiola gave Dorm-cap an A for effort, but really, she thought she had too much pride to be made into a charity case.

In the meantime, Fabiola was not too aggrieved to notice the changes around her. The aftermath of Visiting was one of sparkly new stuff everywhere and never a shortage of food or money. The trunks had been refilled, and the initial pickiness towards school food returned. Almost only people like Fabiola who had no choice bothered to go to the refectory. This only lasted for about a week before everyone started showing up again. The foxes even seemed fresh after Visiting Day having had most of their school garments and items replaced. The downside to Visiting Day, however, was the faeces, filth, and vomit that littered the dorms, especially the surroundings and the latrines, but that only lasted a day because the culprits were hunted down by the seniors and asked to clean the mess. This was the result of having too much and everything to eat at once after an extended period of hunger.

As predicted, the school taps stopped running a week and a half after Visiting Day and the students were required to leave the school campus to fetch water in the vicinity. Unlike most foxes, Fabiola was not bothered by the idea of going miles to fetch water. She did it at home all the time. Having running water a few feet away was an upgrade for her. The old-students showed no signs of animosity towards the idea of fetching water either; in fact, they seemed excited to use fetching water as a reason to leave the school campus.

"Fabiola, wait for me!" someone called after Fabiola one Tuesday afternoon as she was walking down the SAFRACAH Street. She rolled her eyes when she recognised the voice. She and Fusi were following a group of old-students to a place called Nkiwah,to fetch water. The girl running after them was none other than the persistent Ngum Winfrey.

"Ish! That girl over-like to beg-friend,"Fusi complained, but before Fabiola could respond, Ngum reached them.

"Chai! I've ran-until."Ngum panted, folding forward to brace her hands on her knees in order to catch her breath. Without invitation, Ngum slung an arm carelessly over Fabiola's shoulder, and they continued walking down the street, buckets dangling from the side. Fabiola stared at the arm on her shoulder, then up at Ngum and received a big, friendly grin. She rolled her eyes, this time making sure that Ngum did not see her do it.

They turned left where the main road branched off Up-campus and started to descend.

"Ngum! You are doing what?*... What are you doing?" Fabiola cried when Ngum wandered off the narrow path and ducked inside a bush, hearing Fusi's ever-present, ever annoying voice in her head correcting her English.

"I'm looking for banga,"Ngum yelled back at the two stunned girls. There was nothing but thick bushes and farmland surrounding them, and Ngum was busy picking nuts from under a palm tree. A few girls carrying empty buckets walked past; some stared and some couldn't care less.

"Ngum, have you lost your mind? Come out of there right now! The seniors will punish you," Fabiola hissed, looking over her shoulder. The seniors had made it clear to 'not' stray off the path on the way to Nkiwah.* Ngum winked at Fabiola instead, shrugged nonchalantly, and continued breaking the rule. Fabiola gaped at Ngum and then back at Fusi who also shrugged.

Ngum emerged from the bush a minute later with a handful of unshelled palm kernels. She shelled them by striking each between two stones to uncover the soft kernel inside. Despite herself, Fabiola was eager to taste when Ngum divided the content of her hand into three, secretly in awe of Ngum's audaciousness.

They munched the sweet tasting kernels all the way to the stream gaining a few envious stares and pleas for a bite from the other foxes. At home, Fabiola made sure not to piss off her mother on market day because her mother always brought home palm kernels from the market when she was in a good mood. Before that day, Fabiola thought that the delicious kernels came from a magical place, until Ngum showed her the trick.

Unfortunately for the three girls, the delay caused them to fill their buckets with dirty water due to the constant dipping of objects into the Nkiwah* stream. The trip back was slippery and steep and they made it back just in time for supper. Thankfully, they'd been cautioned to attire in the sportswear before heading out to the stream because Fabiola was covered in mud and sweat. Her already pitiful white gown would not have survived the trip.

***

The morning after Nkiwah* began with plenty of complaints concerning stolen water, junior and senior classes alike. The complainants, constituting mostly the old students, stormed the fox-section of the bathroom with empty buckets, appealing to their kindness to share water. The foxes stopped sharing when word spread that it might be a hoax by those reluctant to fetch water. Throughout the morning routine, there were numerous accusations flying around about students who had not fetched water, yet had a bucket full.

Later it turned out that juggling school and fetching water from Nkiwah* on a daily basis was not an ideal arrangement. The foxes resorted to economising by using a titi pail* of water or less per bath to cut-seba,instead of a whole bucket. It was not easy to manage but doable.

The water crisis lasted until the second tests. It was a relief to return to the way things were. Ansah maintained her position at the top of the class and Fabiola in second position. Fabiola even asked to be tutored by Ansah on several occasions, but maths was just one of those things that she did not get. French on the other hand, she thought was insignificant. Fabiola did not see why French was even in the school programme given its irrelevance to her as an Anglophone-Cameroonian.

As time flew by, the third and final tests were announced, and the students began preparing immediately. Juggling exam preparations and the hunger that returned in full bloom was challenging. Thievery returned as well and unfortunately for the students, Visiting Day was only once a term. The uppity attitude towards school food went back to the desperate devouring of whatever was served. Where before roasted groundnuts complemented garri pudding, banga* sufficed and with no sugar.

By then, Ngum had become more than just a nuisance to Fabiola and they were seen everywhere together. Ngum had an uncanny habit of living outside the school laws, which Fabiola found appealing, strangely. Fabiola could not count the number of times the two of them sneaked off on the way to school to fetch whatever they felt in the mood for. Unlike most girls, Ngum did not break the school rules, which was often, for the spoils; she did it because she could get away with it. Ngum's parents made it up to her by visiting afterwards and her grandmother made it a point to bring a parcel to church every Sunday. When it came to Ngum and Fusi, Fabiola was faced with a dilemma because the two did not get along well, and Fabiola liked them both.

The term's final tests started in the second week of December, which was just two weeks to Closing Day and there was no room left for play. While the other foxes worked towards attaining a pass mark, Fabiola's main aim was scoring higher than Ansah in the exams.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The week after exams, also the week to Closing Day, was everything the old-students promised it would be. Classes came to a definite end, and the teachers were occupied with the sole task of marking the test papers and preparing the term's report cards. The lax nature of this week had earned the slang rascal weekover the years. As exciting as the idea of an impending Christmas break was, the fear and uncertainty surrounding the upcoming khaki nighttrumped.

The trunks and pocket money had dwindled and dried up completely by then. School food shrunk further in serving size and became poorest in taste. With no classes in-between to keep the girls busy, it was harder to tolerate the hunger. Rumour had it that the school was barely coping with declining stock and could not wait to send the students home for the Christmas break. When the students weren't plotting, fighting, gossiping, or quarrelling, they could be found aimlessly loitering the school campus and praying for an opportunity to obtain secondary food sources. The persistent lack of running water, especially during this period, offered them the means to explore the bushes under the pretext of fetching water out of the school campus.

Bafut was rich in produce such as palm, avocado, guavas, to name a few. The discipline master caught the students, especially the junior students, several times, entering the campus with buckets full of this produce after a supposed trip to the stream. He tried to exorcise these practises through flogging but most of the students considered that a little flogging was a small price to pay for a full stomach. This unruliness was, however, limited by the fact that a student's report card might be withheld in case of insubordination and going home without a report card was equivalent to dismissal or failure.

The senior students were reluctant especially when it came to fetching water. Regularly, they stood in line in front of the dormitories with empty buckets and waited for the junior students to return from the stream. They took a cup of water each per student as they walked by until their buckets were filled to the brim. Some disgruntled junior students avoided sharing by taking a different route. Dutiful Smalls like Fabiola upheld the tradition of fetching water for two, one for themselves and one for their Big. Some foxes traded water for food and favours. Fetching water, however, was one thing, keeping the water until morning was another. Students had to keep an eye out, literally, for the water under their beds. It was never proven but it was rumoured that the senior students were responsible for the theft.

The students had a good laugh when Anembom, the shortest girl in the school, fought with a senior in the bathroom over bathing space and in turn was well beaten and fed soap by the senior. Brianna, the girl who intentionally ate too much crank-crank* just so she could intoxicate the air with gas during prep, fell and broke her leg trying to scale the fence. A few other old-students were caught scaling the fence and as a result, there were impromptu roll calls for the remainder of rascal week. A form four student had her appendix removed, and the school nurse said that it was from eating garri and calaba chalk.

On the first day of rascal week, the seniors insisted on upholding night prep and were met with protests from the entire school. The next day, forms one through three were asked to go to the school farm and tend to the crops, but the assignment resulted in the girls digging and eating all the andongin the school farm. The consequence was ten lashes per student. Later that day, a form five student was punished to mop the entire refectory by herself, which was impossible to do, for openly making fun of a Banso teacher's accent and for mimicking the principal's habit of starting each dialogue with "Er, er, er". The same student had gotten herself into trouble before for accusing the principal of tribalism and favouritism and criticising teachers for speaking bad grammar in the school.

Sister Ophelia, the plump, pompous religious studies teacher who was always calling on the students to do right by the Lord, swooped in to save the day by insisting that the entire school convene in the school chapel during the afternoons for Christmas preparations. These Christmas preparations entailed Christmas reconciliations, drama, and carol. Fabiola dreaded the reconciliation part the most because the most popular feuds in the school were identified and forced to reconcile in front of God and the entire school. Whether the girls meant it or not, Sister Ophelia insisted that it was the most important aspect of Christmas. Fabiola, Yvonne, and Atem were called upon to make peace, and Fabiola swore she saw Atem give her a look after the supposed reconciliation. The foxes weren't allowed to partake in the Christmas carol and drama rehearsals; they were, however, given the privilege to assist Sister Ophelia with the decoration of the Christmas tree.

When the events of each crazy day halted, you could find the students huddled together in groups, narrating stories, or Nigerian movies. Occasionally, a few of the students were called on to help at a nearby convent, or at SAFRACAH. Sporting activities took up some of the afternoons, and the social prefect made sure to entertain with loud music over booming speakers.

Two nights that week were dedicated to socials.The first night was staging nightwhere the refectory was cleared out, save for the benches, and the entire school, including the staff, were invited to be entertained with dance and drama. The participants spent days practising the moves. The audience went wild on staging night when Antoinette—a really good dancer—wore PJs to the stage and stopped to rest half way through an Awilosong. Drama was modest and consisted of 'The Vegetable Kingdom and Funny Boy'. The singing was angelic.

Socials followed suit the next day; a day Fabiola looked forward to all term. Every movable object cleared out of the refectory to give room to dance. The principal and discipline master made a brief appearance around 7.00pm and then left the students to their devices, setting curfew for 10.00pm. The certified attire for socials was the school white gowns. The old and senior students spiced up the attire with assorted sweaters, shoes, and bandos,which were all prohibited. Soft and alcoholic beverages were not allowed. Despite being excited out of her mind about attending her first dance, Fabiola spent the evening hiding in a corner watching other people have fun, too shy to partake in the merriment.

On the fifth day of rascal week, the gatekeeper almost beat up a group of students for making fun of him for referring to himself as, "We the staff". Later that evening, a form four student, popularly known as Jesus-freak,made allegations against two other students for practising witchcraft; a fox who had a queer habit of roaming the school campus at night and a form three student who supposedly used witchery to make her classmates sleep during prep. Jesus-freak took matters into her hands when the seniors ignored her claim by deciding to exorcise the girls she believed were possessed.

No one knew how Jesus-freak managed to convince said possessed girls to show up for an exorcism, but the campus was yanked from sleep at midnight by screaming and the shrilling rite of exorcism. The refectory stage revealed an intense and terrifying scene of two girls kneeling before a crazed exorcist in the middle of casting out demons. Senior Laura and Senior Faith, the sacristan, marched right in and forcibly stopped the process.

The next morning, the entire school was summoned for an impromptu general assembly where Sister Jude, the discipline master, and a few other teachers presided. The air reeked of trepidation even before the principal addressed the students.

"Do you morons have any idea how serious an exorcism is? To make light of something so sacred... so detrimental. Haven't I taught you anything? No student has the right to make a judgement call on the spiritual well-being of another student or engage in an intervention of any sort. Any concerns of a spiritual nature are to be brought to me." The refectory was dead silent as her angry voice rumbled on.

"Chukwunenye Nnedinma, take the stage, now!" Sister Jude waited until Jesus-freak (Chukwunenye Nnedinma) was standing on the stage next to her, eyes downcast and biting on her thumb.

"You have been found guilty of abusing the school bylaws and the rights of two fellow students. You are hereby dismissed."

Whispers sizzled in the refectory. Jesus-freak stood on the stage, tearful and dejected. Dismissal was a student's worst nightmare—a permanent stain on their record—one that could haunt them throughout secondary and high school even if admitted into another school. There were stories that other schools, mission schools especially (also the best schools in the country), rejected students dismissed from other schools because they believed these students to be corrupt. Fabiola shivered, thinking back on the short list of crimes she'd committed and imagining she was the one facing the hangman's noose. Her parents would be very disappointed in her if something like that were to happen.

***

By evening that same day, Fabiola had forgotten all about Jesus-freak in the bliss of the school's special early Christmas celebration. Students and staff alike were welcomed to participate in the festivity, and there was lots of food and drink to go around. The drama and carol was memorable.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The night after the school's early Christmas celebration was the infamous khaki night,* the night the foxes were taught to fear above all others, and the night they worked towards all term. Khaki night* was the night where the students found out whether they would be taking home good or bad news come the next day—Closing Day. This night was equivalent to Judgement Day as the school found out its brightest and dullest students. The night did not particularly pertain to the brightest students even though they were a part of it; it was more of a mockery of the dullest ones.

Once again, the students and staff gathered in the refectory for the event. Unlike the night before, there were no refreshments or entertainment; instead, the air reeked of suspense. Even knowing that she had performed well in the tests, Fabiola's heartbeat still thumped out of rhythm as the main event drew closer. She'd never encountered competition at school before and she felt nervous and anxious. Ansah was the first one to challenge her intellectually. Mr Cane/discipline master/ form one class master, took the stage once the principal finished delivering a speech and the audience waited for the verdict.

"The last in the class with an average of 5.5/20 is Bapete Elsie Fotsing."

Murmurs rose in the crowd when the discipline master's voice carried over the microphone, then all hell broke loose when Bapete Elise Fotsing, the fattest, smelliest glut in the school, burst into hysterical tears. The discipline master repeated Bapete's name and she cried harder. The audience, mostly the students, jeered Bapete to the stage and she faced them, head bowed in shame.

It was as much a disgrace to a Big as it was to a Small to "climb khaki"in the dullest category on khaki night.* It was said that some unfortunate Smalls were shunned by their Bigs after the event.

The principal had to stand and shush the crowd at some point, a reminder that she had warned the entire school before to refrain from making fun of Bapete. Bapete had become a person of interest in the school because of her supposed incapacitation.

The second name in the dullest category was, "Sirri Agatha Ambe, with an average of... " The rest of the discipline master's words were lost to laughter. Everything about Agatha incited laughter in the school.

"And," Mr Cane continued, "Penn Brenda, with an average of 6.7/20."

Brenda was what the girls called 'kick-head or dry-head'.She'd been caught a number of times using cartoucheduring exams. Brenda outdid the catcalls with a catwalk to the stage. She went on to flaunt the cheekiest curtsey ever recorded, and the crowd went wild. The principal laughed so hard she cried. Fabiola was very confused by the principal's reaction because she expected the opposite from an adult. Considering it was her principal, she figured it was ok and that she could laugh too.

"And now, the first three in ascending order of merit; Sihngum Monica, with an average of 16/20." Fabiola held her breath until her lungs hurt. "Ngam Fabiola, with an average of 17.4." Fabiola released a shaky breath and ran to the stage. "And... Tang Ansahmbom, with an average of 18.2/20." Exaggerated applause and congratulatory cries followed all three champions to the stage.

Between the praise coming from the crowd and the sound of her Big's voice calling out, "That's my Small!", Fabiola was torn between feeling proud of herself and feeling disappointed about coming second in her class for the first time, ever.

The rest of the evening continued in the same fashion, name after name and class after class. The junior classes made extra fun of the senior khaki climbers.It was the one time the juniors could make fun of the seniors, openly and without consequence, especially if the senior in question was not known for her kindness in executing prefectship.unfortunately for the junior students, none of the targeted prefects "climbed khaki"*that night. At the end of the ceremony, prizes consisting of exercise books and pens were given to the first three in every class. The rest of the school was left in limbo as to what their results were until the next day where the report cards were scheduled to be distributed.

Later that evening, Joan celebrated Fabiola's good work by opening a box of cabin biscuits, which Fabiola enjoyed immensely. Sleep eluded Fabiola that night dreaming up possible scenarios of going back home. Her stomach was flooded with butterflies at the prospect of seeing her family, her village, and her friends after three and a half months. She wondered if things had changed in her absence and if her family missed her as much as she missed them. As advised, her duffel was packed and ready to go. Belongings such as the mattress, bedding, bucket, and other bulky items, were stuffed in her trunk, secured with a lock, and placed in the box-room to be revisited the next term. A few girls preferred to take their trunks home though.

***

On the morning of Closing Day, the campus woke even before the school bell rang. The usual gloom that came with waking up inside the walls of St Francis Girls' Vocational High School was superseded by the excitement of going home. The prefects were being a nuisance about cleaning the school campus and cleaning up after oneself despite the students' barely concentrated state of mind and using withholding report cards as motivation. In the throes of the last minute touches, the campus gained an unusual bustle that only halted when the terms final general assembly was announced at 7.00am. Eighty per cent of the luggage already waited at the frontage of the school. A few parents, taxis, and a seventy-seater bus could be spotted waiting impatiently outside the school gates. The seventy-seater bus was pre-arranged transport for students travelling to places like Douala and Yaoundé.

Just like the previous night, the whole school gathered in the refectory and tolerated another speech from the principal. "Conducting yourselves properly does not only end inside these walls. You are to carry the torch home and everywhere you may go in the future, to portray an image of what the world expects from products of this fine institution. I believe I do not need to remind you that you are a few selected in the country, privileged to be attaining such high-end education. You are to distinguish yourselves from the rest of the world by the way you walk, talk, and act because nothing less is expected from you and you know better." She wished everyone a happy holiday after that and cautioned the girls to stay safe until the second term.

The discipline master took over after the speech and assigned the report card distribution mode per class. Before distributing the report cards to the students, the teachers and some of the prefects expressed in various ways how sad they were to see the students go. Fabiola just wished that they would shut up with the speeches and give her report card already.

Once the distribution started, some students browsed through the A3 hard copy and squealed with joy, others shrugged indifferently, others burst into tears, and others hid the card. Fabiola was almost pleased with her report card. She did not like the two red numbers disrupting the blue-inked peace of the card, and she swore to rectify the error come second term. Her first stop was to her Big's dormitory, which was stripped bare, save for a few mattresses on the bunks. Once again, Joan congratulated Fabiola on her performance and surprised her by pressing a thousand francs note into the palm of her hand.

"Use it for your transport," Joan said.

Fabiola had squandered her pocket allowance and had not thought about a means of going home until then. She left her Big and went in search of Ngum who was waiting for her at the front of the school.

"Fabiola! Come this way!" Ngum dragged Fabiola to a corner and shoved her report card in Fabiola's face. "You came second in the class and I came fourteen. I mean you tried... no offence but I did better than you."

"Why is that?" Fabiola asked, puzzled.

"The number fourteen is bigger than the number two, which means I did better than you!"

"What?"

"Just joking. You should have seen the look on your face just now," Ngum said, doubling over with laughter while pointing a shaky finger at Fabiola.

Fabiola sighed and shook her head. It was typical of Ngum to say something like that just to see her reaction.

"Are you sure you can go home by yourself?" Ngum asked when she regained enough composure to string two words together.

"I already told you that I know the way. I stayed with my uncle in Bamenda for two months before coming here." Fabiola was frustrated by the recurring question. Joan and Ngum had smothered Fabiola with the same question in the last week. They thought that Fabiola might get lost in the city because she came from a small village.

Fabiola rolled her eyes when Ngum nodded incredulously. "Ok, fine," Fabiola said. "I am supposed to take a taxi from here to Ntarikon and then Ntarikon to Foncha Street, where I will stay with my uncle until my mother comes and takes me to Njinikom. See?"

"Just don't get lost, ok?" Ngum said, concern taking over her usual mischievous features.

Fabiola lifted her eyes heavenward with a huff.

"Let's go."

Fabiola was about to ask, "Go where?", when Ngum grabbed Fabiola's duffel and led the way to the gates. Fabiola rushed after Ngum.

"Where is your bag? Aren't you going home as well?"

"Nah! Not now. My grandmother sent word yesterday that she will be at least an hour late... something to do with the Catholic Women's Association. I have to wait for her."

"But—"

"Don't worry. Her place is not too far from here. Besides, my parents are coming for me tomorrow."

"Fabiola! Let's go! This one's almost full!" Yvonne yelled over the noise at Fabiola the second Fabiola and Ngum stepped out of the school gates. Yvonne was bouncing off the ground, huddled to a taxi door as if to stop anyone from entering. Ngum shoved her way through a single-minded throng, to hand Fabiola's bag to the taxi driver. The driver was honking impatiently, and the other girls in the taxi were yelling for Fabiola and Yvonne to hurry up.

Fabiola was pulled inside the taxi by Yvonne's eager hands before she had a chance to bid Ngum farewell, and she only caught a glimpse of Ngum through the stained rear window, waving carelessly at the taxi. Fabiola waved back fighting for a better view, but the taxi jerked and she turned to adjust herself in the tight seat. When she turned back, Ngum was gone.

She watched the milling crowd ebb away slowly as the taxi drove down the SAFRACAH Street, repeatedly shifting to fit in the back seat with five other students. She felt no remorse, no yearning to go back as the taxi took a corner and the view of a place she called home for months vanished from sight. Returning did not even seem like an option to her then. Leaving GVHS felt like untying a knot she had been carrying around in her heart for three and a half months.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

"You look so thin!" was the first thing Fabiola's mother said when she saw Fabiola the next day.

"You did not come to visit!" Fabiola yelled, barely out of the taxi that had offered to drop her off at home, instead of at the car park as usual. She'd spent the night at her uncle's place who ensured that she journey safely to Njinikom the next day. Her mother rushed down a set of narrow steps, across a small bridge leading into their compound, and engulfed Fabiola in a rough hug.

"Mami, you did not come to visit." Fabiola pouted, crushed to her mother's bosom.

"Fabiola is back!" someone shouted and Fabiola twisted her head to see her cousin, Hilary, running towards them. Fabiola swore Hilary had grown an inch and a pound since the last time she saw him. Hilary stopped on the small bridge hyphenating the dusty main road and their house and glared at Fabiola. Fabiola glared right back. It was how they communicated. Hilary was two years older than Fabiola and went to a boarding school not too far from home, and he was always giving Fabiola a hard time. Fabiola looked past Hilary to see that two of her best friends, Charlene and Njung, her cousins, and a bunch of the neighbours' children were gathered at the front of the house watching her. She waved at them and they waved back, shyly.

"Hilary, get Fabiola's bag," her mother said over her shoulder to Hilary who was already helping the taxi driver with Fabiola's bag. "I have prepared your favourite meal," she said, pulling Fabiola with her into the compound.

Fabiola forgot all about yelling at her mother for not coming to visit her when she saw all three of her younger siblings standing at a corner, smiling shyly at her. She was not surprised when her siblings did not rush to greet her because her family was laid-back like that. She tore away from her mother and hurried to her siblings, crying, "Janice, Valerie, Brice." Fabiola stopped and picked up her youngest and only brother who was barely creeping. Brice giggled excitedly and toyed with Fabiola's face. Fabiola held him tight and smiled into his hair, only then realising how much she missed her siblings. Her smile broadened when she felt her other siblings let go of timidity and hug her legs. In that moment, it felt like time had not passed at all, that she had not been gone three and a half months. The environment looked and smelled the same. She had not realised how nostalgic the sight of her siblings in dirty clothes after almost half a day of playing in the dirt was, or how contented she felt being there.

"Go inside and greet your father. He is waiting for you," her mother said once they were in the backyard, with the small group on their heels. Fabiola entered the house to find her father sitting on the couch in the living room, listening to the radio. It was his favourite thing to do. The interior of the living room looked the same; medium, cramped with too many framed photos and torn cushions—cushions that Fabiola contributed to abusing as a toddler.

Her father smiled when Fabiola walked in and asked, "Where is your report card?"

Fabiola set her brother down on one of the cushions and pulled her report card from the small purse she was carrying. She waited while her father went through the report card, nodding his head every now and then.

"You have started playing with your studies," her father stated sternly, looking up.

Fabiola looked at the ground and toyed with the tip of her right sandaled foot. "I take my studies seriously, Papa." She pouted. "I always study hard. It's just that there is this girl in my class who always takes first place."

Her father regarded her a while longer, hummed, and went back to studying the report card.

"Why did you not come to visit me, Papa?" Fabiola asked after a pause.

"Go to the kitchen and see your mother," her father said in a dismissive tone, and Fabiola stormed to the kitchen.

"What is wrong?" Fabiola's mother asked the second Fabiola walked into the primitive kitchen and took a seat by the fire. The kitchen was filled with Fabiola's siblings, friends, and cousins—all watching her adoringly—except Hilary.

"Nobody came to visit me on Visiting Day. I was the only student in the school without a visitor," Fabiola complained, accepting a plate of corn-fufu, njama-njama and khati-khatifrom her mother. The dish was not Fabiola's favourite, but her mother insisted on preparing it for special occasions.

"Nobody came to visit me my first year either. Grow up, Fabiola, and stop whining," Hilary antagonised.

"I was not talking to you!" Fabiola yelled at Hilary.

Hilary snorted and stuck his tongue out at Fabiola.

Fabiola kept asking her mother the question until her mother sighed and said, "I was not able to come to your school because I went back to nursing school to further my degree. The school is all the way in Banso and I just came back."

Fabiola found it hard to believe and funny that her mother had actually gone back to school but the knowledge helped her resolve the grudge of being neglected on Visiting. She was relieved that it had not been a deliberate act on her mother's part. She asked her mother a couple of questions and then started eating.

As usual, she got into a fight with Hilary, shooting food across the room at each other until her mother intervened. The questions about her life in boarding school started while Fabiola was still eating and she answered every one of them, gladly, especially the recurring questions about her bunk in school. With the exception of her mother and Hilary, the audience was in awe of the fact that Fabiola's bed in school was such that she slept in the sky. Fabiola exaggerated some parts of her story just to see the wonder in her audience eyes. It felt good to have everyone hang onto her every word and pamper her after three and a half months of continuous antagonism at college.

Her mother listened while roasting fresh corn for Fabiola—one of Fabiola's favourite snacks.

***

"Wake up everyone! Up, up, up!" It was barely 6.00am the next morning when Fabiola interrupted her siblings' peaceful slumber. "Follow me," she said to the confused bunch and led them outside.

She gave each of her barely-awoken siblings and two cousins a thorough bath, even when her mother complained that it was too cold outside. Fabiola had not noticed the little things before leaving for school but her house suddenly seemed dirty and disorganised and she wanted to rectify the situation.

After breakfast, which her mother insisted she eat before doing anything else, Fabiola went right to assigning her siblings each a portion of the house to clean, except Brice who was still too young to do anything. Fabiola made sure that he did not play in the dirt because she hated to see him in dirty clothes; a fact she had not noticed before leaving for school. Her siblings weren't versed with the new way of doing things but they went along with Fabiola, excitedly. Hilary hung by and made fun of Fabiola for bothering everyone with how things were done at boarding school.

After the chores that left the compound spotless, Fabiola gathered her siblings at the dining table—a table that was never used for its purpose—and insisted that they eat lunch like ladies and gentlemen, cutlery and all. She painstakingly taught them how. Her friends and some of the neighbours' children hung around enviously eyeing the upgrade. After lunch, Fabiola gave her siblings each another bath and insisted on a forty-five minute siesta break.

After siesta, her mother insisted Fabiola accompany her to her workplace at the Njinikom Catholic Hospital, where she paraded Fabiola to her friends and colleagues like a trophy. She made sure that everyone willing to listen heard all about her daughter's return from boarding school. Fabiola was one of the few children in the village privileged to be attending a boarding school, which was considered one of the best in the country, expensive, highly productive and also the most conducive environment for studies. Students from schools such as Fabiola's were looked on with envy by their peers and held at a high standard in society. Her parents were looked at as celebrities for affording such luxury. Most of her mother's superiors were reverend sisters, most of whom knew Sister Jude. They showered Fabiola with lots of gifts for her performance in school that her mother would not shut up about.

The rest of the holiday followed in the same manner after that, with Fabiola's mother showing her off every chance she got. Fabiola had almost forgotten what freedom felt like and she did not feel guilty about her godlike status at home. The thought of going back to school gave her nightmares. She did the first thing on her list of things to do while at home, which was to eat and to sleep as much as she wanted.

The best part of the Christmas preparations was a standing family tradition where her mother invited every member of the family to participate in making chin-chin.* She let everyone cut off a piece of dough and shape it however they wanted. Fabiola always went with a small girl-doll. She preserved the fried doll until Christmas Day to show off to her friends who all seemed intimidated by her since her return home. Njung told Fabiola that she heard Charlene gossiping with the other children in the neighbourhood that Fabiola was acting as though she was better than everyone else because she went to a boarding school and her friends went to day schools. Brenda was also going around making fun of Fabiola for behaving as though speaking the dialect or Pidgin English was beneath her and expecting everybody to suddenly start speaking only English—a concept that was strange in her village and reserved only for strangers who did not speak the dialect. The people in the neighbourhood once said the same thing about Hilary. Returnees from boarding school were believed to be haughty and condescending.

Her mother made it a point to keep her children's new Christmas garments a secret until the morning of Christmas. Fabiola and her siblings spent the days before Christmas boiling over with anxiety and wondering how beautiful their garments were. Mass on Christmas Eve lasted until midnight, which gave Fabiola and her friends enough time to sneak off and build a bonfire in the neighbour's yard, sing songs, and tell stories.

Christmas Day was complete with food and drink and Fabiola had her fill. She made sure to visit her friends and family homes, which were the perfect opportunities to show off her beautiful Christmas dress that was extra rich that year. After the exchanged visits between family members and friends, all the children convened in the village main square. Fabiola's mother gave her more than just a coin for shopping that year.

When Fabiola and her crew of friends and siblings arrived at the square, it was already bursting at the seams with children from all over the village. One could barely hear a thing over the excitement and the noise. The vendors, tricksters, poker tables, and video clubsstood open in invitation. Fabiola found it strange that balloons did not interest her that year—a thing she had lived for in the preceding years.

New Year's Eve that year was depressing for Fabiola. It was the eve of the year 2000 and there were contradictory rumours everywhere that everyone will die by midnight, because mankind had reached its end. Fabiola's uncles who returned home from the coast, told stories of people who sold everything they owned because they believed that no one would live to see the year 2000.

It was a relief to wake up on the first of January 2000. Almost every adult in the village wore a T-shirt that day that said, _"I have seen the year 2000"_. Other than the rumours that dampened New Year's Day for Fabiola, the day never really held her interest. Christmas Day was more a day for children and New Year's Day, a day for adults, where she came from. New Year's Day also came with the unwelcome reminder that she had to go back to school in four days.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

4 January 2000.

Fabiola found herself gazing through the dusty iron bars of the St Francis Girls' Vocational High School. She was not looking at the school campus with awe this time, just a feeling of déjà vu. She was not there under duress or coercion either. She realised during the holiday that whether she came back to school or not wasn't really up to her. Moreover, if she was being completely honest with herself, she would have to admit that underneath the indifference, she felt a little excited at the prospect of coming back to school. It took a lot of self-loathing to admit it, but home wasn't home anymore now that she knew she had somewhere else to be. The disconnection with her childhood friends had only grown, inasmuch as she tried reconnecting with her former self. Her friends did not understand why she felt the need to constantly conduct herself like a lady. They saw her conduct as pride, and frankly, she did not care that much about their opinion of her.

It was afternoon and it seemed as though every student was arriving at the same time. The rush and the noise sounded very familiar as Fabiola waved her way expertly through the horde. The urge to flee hit her the minute she stepped inside the school gates, but the determination to live up to her parents expectations propelled her forward. Seeing how proud her parents had been with her performance, never pressuring her to take Ansah's place had strengthened her resolve to do just that.

Her mother had left for nursing school the previous day and for this reason could not accompany Fabiola to school. Fabiola made it to Bafut un-chaperoned after spending the night at her uncle's place. She liked the independence though. Her godmother told her during the Christmas break that she was no longer a kid—when she failed to supervise her younger siblings and her father blamed her for their misdoing.

She dragged a heavy duffel bag into the school first and returned for the Ghana-Must-Goand Sacks and Motobags later. Her mother had spared no expense shopping for Fabiola's return to school as opposed to the first term. At Fabiola's request, her mother had replaced every stolen school item and added things that weren't in the school prospectus. She had reservations about giving into Fabiola's requests thereby disregarding the school rules, but Fabiola won her over by expressing how horrible life at boarding school could be without all those things. Fabiola had even hidden a few things, like assorted dresses and fancy slippers, inside her luggage to get past the school checkpoint.

"Fabiola!" someone yelled just as the seniors finished checking Fabiola's bags and found nothing unsanctioned. She was surprised at how good it felt to see Fusi running towards her. She and Fusi weren't exactly besties, but the hug was inevitable.

"When did you come?" Fabiola asked when Fusi helped her with one of her bags.

"I came in early this morning," Fusi said, excitedly.

Fabiola had to admit that the break had done wonders for Fusi. She looked fuller and happier, so did everyone else around. Fabiola wondered if she had the same glow. "Why so early?" she asked Fusi.

"My parents and I drove all night from Yaoundé, that's why."

A familiar smell associated only with boarding school overwhelmed Fabiola when she entered the St Clare's Dormitory. The dorm was as chaotic as expected but she embraced the madness with a fondness. Four months ago, the place had excited and terrified her, now the familiar surroundings did little to juggle her insides. Where before she cowered from strangers, casually acknowledging her mates as she went seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

Lunch was served that afternoon and no one bothered to pay a visit to the powerhouse.* This was the case for a week from reopening day, but eventually, the attitude faded. The foxes had spared no expense replenishing stolen and missing items and as usual, exercised no caution in flaunting or carelessly throwing stuff around until it was too late.

"Ngum. Keep a seat for me, will you?" Fabiola said one evening. She and Ngum were running late for night prep, and Fabiola needed to use the loo.

"Jesus, Fabiola! I've told you to stop calling me Ngum. My name is Winfrey."

"But I have always called you Ngum. Everyone calls you Ngum."

"It's Winfrey now. I don't like the name, Ngum."

"Ok." Fabiola raised her hands in a peaceful gesture. Ngum or Winfrey or whatever she was calling herself these days had come back from Christmas break with a weird obsession about her name. She bit people's heads off for calling her Ngum and insisted to be addressed only as Winfrey. Hiris had a black eye for making fun of Ngum, and _Ngu... Winfrey_ had whip-marks on her back for giving Hiris a black eye.

***

In late January, the routine for classes altered to make room for compulsory thirty-minute march practices' in the mornings in preparation for the upcoming Youth Day. Fabiola did not mind the extra work. Youth Day, as she had been raised to believe, was an important day for every young Cameroonian girl and boy. In primary school, points were given to those who could swing their arms the furthest. She remembered Youth Day fondly because it was among the feasts where her mother gave her money to buy whatever she wanted. On Youth Days, she made a list consisting of alaskain all colours, accra,* sugarcane, banga,* to name a few. On such days, she came back home with a bloated belly from eating whatever and spent the following week suffering from cramps. As much as she hated drinking the warm, salty water her mother made her drink for the stomach aches, she never could wait for the next year.

The old-students boycotted march practice for a long time undetected. One day, however, during the morning assembly, the discipline master pulled out a folded sheet and read a long list of names, stating dates, and instances of absence from march practice. These students were flogged mercilessly in front of the entire school, and everyone started showing up for march practice after that.

The school feasts were also scheduled around this time wherein each dormitory honoured the patron saint after which their dormitory was named.

Two days before Youth Day, three barbers came to school and gave each student a haircut. The seniors helped braid each other's hair as usual. The foxes were extremely excited when the school official wear was issued to them. Joan took care of ironing Fabiola's official wear and refused to give it back until Youth Day for fear that Fabiola might ruin its fineness. Fabiola had a pair of low black covered shoes shined and waiting under her bed on the eve of the day. She tossed and turned in her bed that night thinking about the next day.

"Yvonne? Are you asleep? Tell me what you are going to do tomorrow," Fabiola whispered, staring at Yvonne's back, from her bunk. Almost everyone in the dorm was settled in for the night and the volume was reduced to whispers.

Yvonne turned on her bunk. "Ask your friend, Winfrey," she spat and then turned her back to Fabiola.

Fabiola sighed and turned to stare up at the ceiling. Since reopening day, Yvonne pretty much ignored Fabiola, glared at her new friends, and refused to make eye contact.

"Mbong'o,stop shaking the bed," Fabiola's ndang'a* hissed for perhaps the twentieth time that evening.

"Sorry," Fabiola whispered, making a face in the dark.

"Fabiola," someone said her name more urgently thirty seconds later.

"What?" Fabiola hissed, wondering what her space-mate wanted this time.

"It's me," a familiar voice said instead.

"Ngu... Winfrey? What are you—"

"Come with me. I want to show you something," Winfrey whispered from the foot of the bed, pulling at Fabiola's leg.

Fabiola could not make out Winfrey's features in the dark. She double-checked Dorm-cap's space for movement, dismounted her bunk quietly, and followed Winfrey down the path, towards the door. When Fabiola stepped outside, she immediately wrapped her arms protectively around herself to keep the cold out. The campus was as quiet as a graveyard and there was no one outside.

"What is going on? What are we doing outside?" Fabiola asked uneasily, eyes darting to the evil tree. She hated looking at the tree at night. She especially hated it when she had to go outside at night to use the privy.

"Shh." Winfrey pressed a finger to Fabiola's lips, looking around to make sure that no one was watching them. Winfrey had a few pounds and an inch on Fabiola, which made it easy for her to manhandle Fabiola whenever she wanted. "Wear this over your head, and follow me," she said, shoving a white sheet at Fabiola and positioning one over her head. Fabiola accepted the sheet suspiciously, and when she did not do as told, Winfrey grunted and arranged the sheet over Fabiola's head herself, barely allowing room for sight. Fabiola stopped dead in her tracks when Winfrey started pulling her by the arm towards the side of the dormitory, to where the evil tree protruded the most.

"Relax. My grandmother has lived in this village for a very long time, and she told me that the story about the tree is just a myth. Follow me quickly before we miss it," Winfrey insisted impatiently when Fabiola would not budge. She pulled at Fabiola's arm until she was forced to walk forward.

They came to a stop at a landing behind the dormitory, and Winfrey guided the sheet away from Fabiola's face to reveal a group of old-students sitting around a small fire by the school pit, engaged in friendly chatter. The only light in the backyard came from the fire, and Winfrey ensured that they stayed hidden in the shadows and extremely quiet. Winfrey observed the girls sitting by the pit, lips paused in thought, and Fabiola waited, eyebrows raised in question.

"Follow me," Winfrey said after a while, once again, adjusting the sheet over herself and over Fabiola such that not even their feet were showing. Winfrey was unusually edgy and cryptic, and even as Fabiola let herself be dragged towards the pit, she knew there was something off. She tripped unseeingly on the overlapping edges of the sheet but Winfrey managed to catch her every time. As they approached the fire, Winfrey started making weird whooshing sounds.

Fabiola panicked when suddenly she heard terrified screaming and running in every direction. She tried to pull the sheet from her face but Winfrey dragged her in the direction they had come. Once sheltered in the dark, Winfrey stopped, removed the sheet from Fabiola's face, balled the two, and tossed over the fence.

"What just happened?" Fabiola asked, aiming wild glances about but they were a long way from the backyard and she could not see anything in the dark. Winfrey ignored her question and hurried towards the dormitory. Fabiola caught up with her. "What is going on?" she insisted.

"Shush." Winfrey clamped a hand over Fabiola's mouth and then carefully guided her into the dormitory. Fabiola could still hear screaming from a distance, and the school was starting to wake as a result. Winfrey pointed Fabiola in the direction of her bed before she could ask any more questions and disappeared into the darkness.

Fabiola had trouble sleeping that night. The next morning in the bathroom, she heard some students talking about a ghost attack behind the St Clare's Dormitory the previous night. Two form two students claimed to have seen two ghosts near the school pit, one tall and the other one short. They were convinced that said ghosts were the real deal because of the whooshing sounds that had accompanied the apparition. Three of the victims from the ghost attack were seriously injured and a handful was traumatised.

Fabiola's eyes flew open, at the same time suppressing a pained cry when she put two and two together.

Winfrey!

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

11 February 2000.

Fabiola attired in the school official wear with a heavy heart, going over the events of the previous night. Three girls were injured and who knew how many more were traumatised because of her actions. The official wear was oversized like all the other school uniforms, but Fabiola loved the white embroidery sewn into the front of the straight deep blue skirt. The skirt went with a simple white blouse and a blue tie. She complemented the attire with a pair of perfectly shined black shoes on a pair of socked feet. After several failed attempts at knotting the tie, she decided to seek Joan's help. Even without the tie she felt strangely groomed. The old-students and some of the foxes were going out of their way adding black shoe polish to their hair to give it an extra shine.

"Fabiola, wait for me!" Winfrey came running after Fabiola when the foxes were asked to convene at the front of the school.

"I am not talking to you!" Fabiola yelled over her shoulder. She was so angry; she'd been ignoring Winfrey all morning.

"I'm sorry," Winfrey cried. "It was a foolish prank and I thought you knew what we were doing."

Fabiola stopped, glared at Winfrey, opened her mouth, paused in thought and then started walking again, shaking her head.

Winfrey's apology was cut short when the sanitation prefect approached Fabiola. The foxes were waiting with the seniors on the assembly ground who were instructing the foxes on how to knot a tie. Just as the sanitation prefect finished perfecting Fabiola's tie, a seventy-seater bus pulled up in front of the gates. The foxes were instructed to go into the bus along with a few seniors. Three more buses pulled up just as the first one took off.

By design, Winfrey took the seat behind Fabiola, and Fabiola could feel Winfrey's eyes burning holes in the back of her head the whole ride. The ride was longer than Fabiola imagined and she kept gazing out the window expectantly. The ride took nearly twenty minutes, and when the bus pulled up at the final destination and started discharging the girls, Fabiola could barely see a thing through the suffocating mass of people.

After strict orders to follow the caravan, the seniors led the foxes through the crowd, cramped between uniformed and assorted bodies. Fabiola was amazed at how many of them there were. She had never seen that many people in uniform or in one place before—not even that one time she left her village for the Cathedral in Bamenda, for the annual Cadets of Mary come-together. It took will and force to manoeuvre their way through the crowd to God-knows-where.

The group came to an opening at a stadium and followed the seniors past the grandstand, which was still empty, save for a few occupied seats and blaring instrumental music that barely matched the noise coming from the restless crowd. The seniors led them to the opposite side of the grandstand where countless other schools in varying uniforms waited, already lined up behind individual signboards. The showground was framed by vendors.

Fabiola did not catch the name but there was another girls' school in the line-up and the only other school in the mass that was part longhaired. Keeping long hair was not a common practice in schools in Cameroon because it was considered to be a distraction to the students, but some schools stuck to the practice—mostly in the second cycle—like Fabiola's school. The seniors fitted the foxes into a space between two mixed-sex schools, behind a signboard with the letters GVHS on it. When the rest of the school arrived minutes later, they were instructed to line up according to height regardless of level or age. Fabiola's height placed her in the middle.

The second cycle took up space in the back, detached from the first cycle by a few inches, and they stood out in the crowd courtesy to the atypical, above-the-knee, tight fitting, blue-black suits, and heels. They reminded Fabiola of the sophisticated women in the movies, and she could not wait for her bony features to fill out.

The volume in the show ground dropped when a voice came over the speakers apologising for the divisional officer's delay. The crowd dove right back into uncoordinated chatter, singing, band practice, and other unsorted activities.

"Weh! what is it na? You have smashed me,"an old student complained when Fabiola accidentally stepped on her shoe.

"Sorry," Fabiola said, noticing for the first time that her own shoes had smudges of dirt.

***

After waiting in line for more than an hour for the DO'sarrival, the excitement was beginning to wear off. The DO was always late, even in Fabiola's village. Fabiola tore off her shoes and joined her mates on the grass. Her feet hurt, the sun was hot, and she was sweating badly. Most of the girls around her were sweating black shoe polish from the head. After sitting for ten minutes, Fabiola joined a group of girls, and they wandered off to the outskirts of the showground and bought refreshments, mainly alaska.*

"On your feet, ladies! Stop acting like old women. We have a reputation to uphold!" the SPcried her disappointment when she walked up and saw the students either sitting on the grass or sucking on alaska.*

The girls hurried to obey the chastening.

"Throw that thing away. You look disgusting sucking on plastic like toddlers. How many times do I have to tell you that appearances are everything? Show some dignity, will you?" Her words were sharp and discrete.

Forty-five minutes later, the DO arrived and then long and boring speeches munched up almost one hour. It took another thirty minutes waiting for the primary schools to march past the grandstand. Fabiola was short-tempered and itchy by the time her school was heralded. She stood tall, puffed her chest, and swung her arms like the good little soldier she was.

The discipline master authorised a five-hour outing after the march past, after which the girls were expected to reconvene for roll call where the bus dropped them off. He was very explicit about late coming. The girls dispersed in groups as well as individually. Fabiola went with Fusi, and Winfrey tagged along. Fusi suggested that they merge funds and buy items as a group, which was beneficial to all parties because the merged fund enabled the purchase of anything they wanted ranging from French bread, chocolates, sardines, groundnut sweet, ice cream, yoghurt, to name a few. Thirty minutes into the tour around the showground visiting vendors, Fabiola was already bloated.

"Oh my God! Is that a video club?" Fabiola gaped at a small mud building ahead. The group of three was wandering the exterior of the stadium after having exhausted the shopping list, and not having anywhere else in mind to go, or things to do to fill up the time left to deadline. Fabiola stared yearningly at the posters of Nigerian movies plastered on the wall of the small video club. She ran to the building and browsed hungrily through the handwritten schedule on the blackboard. There was a line in front of the video club paying to enter, and the movie manifest indicated that the movie 'Submission' was showing.

She had seen the movie a few times at her uncle's place but never quite got her fill of it. Her parents did not own a VCD player, similar to eighty per cent of the people in her village. Watching a movie was a rare and cherished occasion. Back home, one of her neighbours made the neighbourhood children clean her house as payment to watch a movie. Fabiola's parents forbid her though.

"It's just 50 francs and we still have a few hours left before going back to school," Winfrey supplied, inspecting the movie manifest over Fabiola's shoulder.

"What?" Fabiola snorted, forgetting in the rush of excitement that she had sworn never to talk to Winfrey. "My parents would kill me if I ever visited a video club."

"Your parents are not here," Winfrey said, rolling her eyes at the surrounding. "Besides, it's just for a few minutes. Nobody will ever find out." She had that mischievous smile on; the one Fabiola knew so well, and the one that never failed to get them into trouble.

Fabiola shook her head fiercely. "No!"

"Fabiola is right. The discipline master and the seniors specifically warned us about things like this. I don't want to be punished," Fusi intervened.

"Shut up. Who asked you?" Winfrey snapped at Fusi.

Fusi glared at Winfrey.

"Let's go somewhere else," Fabiola decided, every fibre of her being protesting the decision.

For the first time ever, Winfrey gave in without objection.

***

The girls returned to the school by 5.30pm with a customary trophy for the best march past and choir. Surprisingly enough, carrying the spoils of the day into the school campus was not prohibited. The downside to having too much to eat, which happened after every feast in the school, was the nya'atoilets. Fabiola shrivelled at the thought of having to go.

Youth Day resulted in two unexpected things. Two form three students abandoned protocol and returned to the school the next day and were "thereby dismissed for disregarding the school norms". A few others deliberately missed roll call and the bus, and returned to the school later than was allowed, and were "thereby suspended for disregarding the school norms".

***

During English class the following week, Madame T went off course and asked the foxes to sing the Cameroon national anthem. Excitedly, the girls sang.

Oh Cameroon da, cradelofa father.

Oni shine where ina mis the na repo.

Da tears and blood and swedi soni water.

Ona mis a weri wan the thin nay show.

Dear fatherland na was no tonka tell.

How can we ever pay da due.

Da welfare willy willy toy and love and peace.

Will be to da name ever true.

Land of promise, land of glory.

Ya life and show ya oni show.

Dandi ono, dan devotion.

And dependearment forever more.

Tin tin tin tin.

Tin tin.

Madame T was staring stupidly at the foxes when the song came to an end. "What in heaven's name was that language?" she asked, disbelief written all over her face.

The girls stared back at her innocently.

She shook her head. "I will say that I am disappointed in you, but more than eighty per cent of Cameroonians do not know the lyrics to the Cameroon national anthem. It is sad." She wrote the lyrics to the Cameroon national anthem on the blackboard and asked the girls to copy into their exercise books. She made them sing and re-sing the anthem after that. It took the famous 'ruler and knuckle hammer'to cut the 'tin tin tin tin, tin tin'appendage. It was not easy refitting words to a song Fabiola knew by heart and cutting out the appendage made the song feel incomplete. The assignment at the end of the class was that for the remainder of the school year, two girls would perform the national anthem in front of the entire class during each English lesson.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

February was a busy month for the girls. The fuss over Youth Day was immediately followed by the fuss over the Parent Teacher Association (PTA) with just five days separating the two grand events. The students were expected to keep up with classes and tests, nonetheless. The girls were as excited about PTA as they had been about Visiting Day. Unlike Visiting Day, PTA was an annual meeting between the parents and staff intended to facilitate parental participation in the school.

Word around campus had it that the students were not allowed to see or talk to the parents until after the PTA meeting for fear that they might intoxicate the parents' opinion of the school. The old-students said that the school authority would go to any lengths to ensure that the parents left the meeting with a good impression of the school. This was why soybeans had become a main part of the school meals since reopening day. The aim was to fatten up the students, they said. Appearances had become everything in the days leading to PTA and the students were propelled into a series of tedious tasks like scrubbing every nook and cranny to depict a good image of the school on that day. Fabiola swore the food tasted better and that there was an increase in the serving size as well. There wasn't as much flogging or punishment either.

Sister Jude shocked the students two days until PTA, while classes were withheld, when she brought a cow and a butcher into the school campus. The meat was for the feast, and everyone was welcomed to watch the butcher at work, she said. The butcher slaughtered, disembowelled, chopped the meat, and left the roasting to the girls. The entire school was grouped and each group was assigned a portion of the meat and a primitive fire where the meat would be roasted over the fire on a grill. Fabiola found the chore very motivating because while roasting, she ate as much meat as she wanted, which was rare both at home and at school.

The next day was scheduled for cooking. The foxes and the other junior classes were only allowed the minimal chores like assisting the seniors cook. The school choir and drama club spent the day practising song and drama. Later that evening, the girls were given all the time they needed to prepare the white gowns, headscarves, sandals, and school pullovers for the next day. A week before that, the school authority began conducting regular checks on all school items. Missing an item meant incurring Mr Cane's wrath. It all factored into keeping the girls in check for the PTA.

On the day of the PTA, which was a Saturday, the activities started off with morning Mass, and the parents were welcomed to join (those who could make it in that early). A majority of the parents started arriving around 9.00am and unlike what the foxes had been told, the students were allowed to mingle with the parents before the meeting. The campus was once again overflowing with bags bearing snacks and house-mould.*

Despite being informed in advance that her parents would not make it to the PTA, Fabiola still felt a pang of jealousy every time she saw her mates run into the loving arms of their parents and the bags they carried to the dormitory afterwards. In the letters Fabiola now exchanged with her mother on a regular basis through the school principal, her mother had expressed regret for not being able to make it to the PTA due to her busy school timetable. She apologised repeatedly for disappointing Fabiola again. She had sent her love and money in the last letter, enough for Fabiola to buy anything she needed. The principal had suggested Fabiola leave the money in the envelope with the school bursar for safekeeping but Fabiola politely declined. She'd heard her mates complain on several occasions that an arrangement like that with school bursar meant the student had to explain every expenditure and spent their money on limitations. Some students even claimed that the remainder of the money might not be returned to the student at the end of the school year, or that the school might look for ways to hold the money as compensation for something the student could have gotten away with otherwise.

When the PTA meeting commenced, the girls retreated to the dorms and waited anxiously. The students were not allowed to participate in the feast thereafter, but there was enough food and drink set aside for them to impress the parents. Most parents still set aside the best parts of the meal for their children. Unlike Visiting Day, the students were allowed to show their parents around the campus. Fabiola watched the on-going festivity from a distance. She told her close friends and Big about her mother's letters, so they wouldn't worry about her. Winfrey had to drag Fabiola to sit with her parents.

As the after-PTA meeting activities unfolded, an alarm was raised in the school, and some students, including Fabiola, ran in that direction. Fabiola reached the front of the school just in time to see a fox called Frida shy away from a man who looked identical to her, unkempt and tattered, however.

"I don't know him. He is not my father!" Frida cried.

The man in question just stood there, helpless and fighting back tears. The crowd watched. Sister Jude interrupted the scene and asked the man to follow her to her office. Frida ran in the opposite direction.

***

Sister Jude stormed the refectory during supper the day after PTA and accused the students of stealing a quarter of the beef intended for PTA. "There is an on-going investigation and I intend to find out what happened to my meat," she said. "I appeal to anyone who has information about who is responsible. Withholding information is as good as committing a crime, which is punishable by dismissal."

The students all pleaded innocent at first, until a few days later when they started snitching on each other, in an oddly organised manner. Luckily for Fabiola and many others like herself, eating a fill of the meat in the process of roasting did not count as theft. The real criminals it turned out had stolen huge chunks of meat and smuggled it out of the school. The culprits—all seniors—were asked to pay a fine of 10,000 CFA francs each to the school. They were later asked to dig stumps in the school farm and clear huge portions of grass as punishment.

The meat incident was immediately followed by an initiation in the change of leadership in the school. The lower sixth students were given the go-ahead to start campaigning for elections, with the obligation of applying first to the disciplinary council. It was a school tradition upheld every academic year prior to the General Certificate of Education (GCE) Ordinary and Advanced Level mock exams. This was so that the prefects who were all in the examination class and the form five students, were liberated of all obligation and focused solely on studying for the exams.

"Good morning fellow students. My name is Mbah Mildred. I am a lower sixth student and I will very much like your vote for senior prefect. Vote for me and I promise a change for the better." The campaign speeches started once sanctioned. Most school activities were scheduled for thirty to forty-five minutes at most, and the school authority allotted the campaigners a few minutes each in-between these activities to deliver campaign speeches. The school bell always managed to interrupt the numerous campaigners and their lengthy campaign speeches.

Because of the interruptions during the official hour, the lower sixth students running for office resorted to making impromptu visits to the refectory and dormitories. Candy and biscuits were a working bribe, especially where the foxes were concerned. Fabiola did not care who got elected into what office as long as the treats kept coming.

The students had a good laugh when it came to the Banso students campaigning either for the refectorian or the sacristan post.

"A voote for mere is a voote for soocciss,"they would say. The outburst from the audience never let them get to the end of the intended speech. The student running for the sacristan post cried on stage when the crowd burst out laughing and booing at every word she said. The 'making-fun-of-Banso-girls' got so bad that the principal who was also Banso, without the shua,had to intervene. She placed spies in the school to bring her names of students caught making fun of the Banso students.

The most sought after posts were the SP, followed by the refectorian, social prefect, labour prefect, and the dormitory captains, in that order. The race for the St Clare's Dormitory captain was not very popular though. By reputation, the post was deemed tedious and time consuming as it entailed "dealing with toddlers"—the campaigners' exact description of the foxes. It was alleged that the principal spent the entire year looking for the most mature, most nurturing lower sixth student to appoint to the post.

Most of the candidates running for office had either assisted the outgoing prefect in the post previously or been nominated by that prefect. By choosing to run for office, the incoming prefect became slave to the outgoing prefect. The prize for nomination to certain posts was very high. Word around campus was that the three students running for the post of SP spent the nights prior to the elections sleeping in cold water under the outgoing SP's bed. These girls endured the ordeal without complaint because they believed no price was worthy of the SP post. Some students claimed that the outgoing SP used these girls as stools for her meals and pillows for her feet. The most prominent of the three girls running for SP came from money, and there was speculation that she might or might not have bought the post.

There were rumours that a certain student from a certain prominent all-boys school in the country running for senior prefect died after being brutally beaten in the bathroom of his school by the outgoing prefects and his competitors. This unnamed school's authority covered up the murder by blaming the boy's death on a medical condition.

Generally, the outgoing prefects forced the incoming prefects to do demeaning chores such as scrubbing the bathrooms, latrines, and gutters, doing chores for the rest of the school and digging stumps in the school farm. They were even made to carry pots of food on their heads from the kitchen to the refectory and to serve the rest of the school. Then they were required to eat while kneeling and were expected to finish eating in record time with the rest of the school else their food be dumped. Later, they washed the pots, plates, and tidied up after everyone. Some candidates spent the nights hiding in the school farm for fear of the torture that waited for them in their dormitories.

The outgoing prefects never ran out of ways to humiliate the incoming prefects, and they did so in the refectory, which was at the heart of the school, for every student to witness. The twist to all this was that the outgoing prefects were protected by the school laws after handover. The outgoing prefects were untouchable and the incoming prefects had absolutely no authority over them.

After the elections, which were conducted by means of ballot, deliberations were entrusted to the disciplinary council. The students suspected all along that the SP post was a diplomatic one and were not surprised when the results contradicted the votes. The vote for SP the students claimed, was just a formality, and the principal with the disciplinary council had the final say. Other than being one of the brightest and well-conducted students in the school, the background of the SP elect had a big part to play in the disciplinary council's decision—she was from money—or so the students claimed.

Protocol demanded that the principal conduct the handover ceremony, which entailed appreciatively bidding the old prefects farewell and introducing the new prefects to the entire school during an extended morning assembly. The new prefects received a banner each as an act of official installation into the post. A speech followed, beseeching the new prefects to shoulder responsibility and uphold their campaign promises.

Immediately after the ceremony, the newly elected prefects wasted no time showing their hand. Gone were the sweet-talking, compliant campaigners; they were all about affecting change—or payback.

CHAPTER THIRTY

"All rise!"

It all began the afternoon of the handover ceremony. The upper sixth and form five students were making themselves scarce and the rest of the school was under strict instructions not to disturb them courtesy to the upcoming GCE mock examinations. The former dormitory captains had moved out of their respective dormitories the previous day and joined their classmates in the St John's Dormitory for the same reason. This was also to give room to the newly elected dormitory captains. A few of the St Clare girls made a big scene the day the old Dorm-cap moved out, along with her gang of delinquent Smalls.

"Weh! Dorm-cap, don't go na. You are leaving us for who? You are the bestest Dorm-cap and we only want you,"* they'd cried.

Flustered, Dorm-cap went like this, "Really? That is so sweet, I will miss you guys too, but I have to go. I have my exams to think about. Wish me luck."

Fabiola's eyes had almost popped from rolling them too much. The new Dorm-cap was still undergoing scrutiny. Already, Fabiola did not like her voice. She thought that the new Dorm-cap's voice was too high, and she liked to talk and chew at the same time.

Annoying, that one.

"The senior prefect is about to walk in. Stay standing and curtsey like you mean it," a newly elected voice cut through Fabiola's thoughts.

By then Fabiola knew what the word curtsey meant from the constant lessons on the topmost poses she had to acquire on the road to becoming a proper lady. The non examination classes were standing in the refectory for fifteen minutes waiting for the newly elected SP to make an entrance. After a long hard day at school, Fabiola was tired and hungry, and the only thing she felt in the mood for was a plate of corn-chaff—that was already cooling by the way.

When the SP and her assistant did walk in, Fabiola joined the crowd and conducted a clumsy curtsey, reciting the newly taught salutation rite.

"The duchess, we salute you. The duchess, we salute you. The duchess, we salute you."

When the three line recital ended, the newly elected SP and her assistant stood on the stage, with an entourage not too far. The group's cold comportment had the students waiting tensely. The new SP was as pretty but lacked Senior Laura's easy grace; she seemed arrogant and standoffish. Her assistant struck Fabiola as invisible. It was no secret among the students that an assistant prefect was a lesser post.

"Move out of the refectory in an orderly manner if you don't have the required cutlery," the SP's words cut through the current, not bothering with a greeting. The icy tone, calculated calmness, and the steady below-the-brow gaze with which the order was given had the girls hurrying to obey without a second thought.

More than eighty per cent of the school did not have cutlery, and more than half of that population had no inkling as to their cutlery's whereabouts. The leftovers from lunch that day went in the school pit, and the eighty per cent went hungry. Forty per cent of the school made it past the refectory checkpoint later that evening for supper and the same consequences befell the other sixty per cent. The next day during breakfast, a loaf of bread was only given to the students who had teacups, which ended up amounting to a very small percentage of the school that consisted mostly of the foxes. Foxes took tea seriously.

Cutlery magically started showing up to the refectory the next day after the girls realised that the new prefects meant business. Fabiola did not know about the rest but she risked punishment and bought missing cutlery on the way to school, which had become very difficult to do given that the newly elected prefects had spies watching on every corner.

During lunch that day, more than ninety per cent of the school intended to show up to the refectory with cutlery but the refectory door closed two minutes after the bell went off and as a result, locked out more than half the school for coming late to the refectory. Again, the pits had their share of lunch and they starved. The same thing happened the next day with a smaller crowd and Fabiola sensed a lot of anger coming from outside. The day after that, the students locked out lost it and started banging on the refectory door demanding to be let in. The protesters, constituting mostly of the old-students, were punished for the insubordination of course but not before physical combat with a few of the seniors who ventured to calm the hangrymob.

The following day, the refectory was full by the time the bell stopped ringing, and ten minutes into lunch, the girls were ordered to stop eating and empty the remainder of their food in the bins. Meals were timed for ten minutes, the prefects said. Anything left on your plate after that time belonged in the pits. Try going against the rule and dig a stump or mop the entire refectory by yourself. The whole 'eat-like-a-lady' thing returned in full bloom as well, and the refecto and her two assistants watched the girls like hawks while they ate.

Rumour had it that the new timekeeper deliberately rung the bell a few minutes earlier before every school activity just to prove efficiency.

Customarily, Tuesdays were set aside as French Day in the school (unobserved), to honour Cameroon being a bilingual country. The language prefect reinforced this rule. Since more than ninety-five per cent of the school was made up of Anglophone-Cameroonians, the students spent Tuesdays humming or using sign language as a means of communication for fear of being punished otherwise. The language prefect also abolished the idea that the language post was a laggard post. She implemented a bazor checkin the school. She had a list of frequently made grammar errors pasted on every corner of the school. She went as far as ensuring that students pronounced words correctly; especially a word like 'sir', which had the tendency among the students to be pronounced as 'ser'. Like most seniors, she placed spies among the students to report back to her who said what the wrong way in English. Madame T assisted her in administering the 'ruler and knuckle hammer' to the students caught speaking bad grammar. Fabiola had to say words in her head first before repeating them out loud. The full wrath of the school authority was reserved for those caught speaking Pidgin English.

The sanitation prefect conducted inspections on Mondays and on Wednesdays during the general morning assembly, checking for mouth odour, foul underarms and wiping behind the ears with a white handkerchief to make sure that the students adhere to proper hygiene. She went on to ridicule the unhygienic lot in front of the entire school. On a good day, she used them as an example during morning baths to demonstrate to the junior forms how to take a proper bath.

The sacristan gave Mr Cane a list every morning of students caught sleeping during Stations of the Cross. The list also included the names of the students who showed up to church without Bibles, hymnals, and headscarves. Since Ash Wednesday, waking hour was no longer status quo. Instead of 5.30am, the students now woke at 4.00am to attend the Stations of the Cross with barely six hours of sleep. The usual morning Mass followed immediately after the Stations of the Cross.

Between the lack of sleep and the brutal morning cold, Fabiola had no resistance left for dragging herself from one Station of the Cross to the next, reciting meaningless words. Her hands were calloused from the daily sting of Mr Cane's whip. Being compelled to leave bed earlier than usual also made it impossible to stay awake in class and it was a taboo to sleep during maths class. Fabiola had to support her eyes with pencils to keep from falling shut, literally. She envied some of her mates, the ability to sleep with their eyes wide open. She wished she'd been born with that sort of malfunction.

The labour prefect checked the mopped morning portions with a white handkerchief and made the students redo it until she was satisfied.

The choir prefect made choir practice a compulsory school activity and made it a point to teach the girls a new song every week.

The social prefect had a unique walketwhich irrefutably became the acceptable way of walking in the school, and the students were under peer pressure to keep up.

The librarian imposed reading a new book every month.

The St Clare's newly elected Dorm-cap took on a military approach. She was hell-bent on making the St Clare's Dormitory the cleanest dormitory in the school, even though the fox dormitory was by habit the dirtiest. Proper bed-making, siesta, personal hygiene, compulsory laundry and ironing on Saturdays, all trunks in the box-room, no hanging of garments in the dormitory—even if the items stood the chance of theft if taken outside. No eating, laughing, smiling, moving about, or talking in the dormitory.

The general principle was never to look a prefect in the eye or talk back at one. The students were expected to stand or bow respectfully when in the presence of a prefect or when spoken to by one. It was not acceptable for a student to address a fellow student of a higher class by their name. The proper title before names was 'Sister'. The words Big and Small were strictly prohibited. The students were to address their Bigs only as 'Mother' and Smalls only as 'Ward'.

While the newly elected prefects fought to affect change, the Bonazaor the NBA,saw it fit to assist. The old-students who were more resistant to change than the foxes, made special fun of the Bonaza* by calling them names such as, 'beg-post' or 'langa post'.The students also made fun of the newly elected prefects behind closed doors, saying things like, prefectship* was brimming hot and that it was only a matter of time before things went back to the way they once were.

The new regime, however, was nothing like the old one and the unrest went on for the entire term, no pause for repose.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

8 March 2000.

The form one classroom was buzzing with chatter and excitement over the theme of the day. Too bad the girls weren't allowed out of the school to join in the celebration of Women's Day. The only form of acknowledgement to the occasion was a brief speech from the principal during the morning assembly wishing the girls a Happy Women's Day. The class was so animated no one saw the substitute religious studies teacher, Sister Carine, walk in.

"What is going on?" Sister Carine asked the class in her usual firm tone.

"Happy Women's Day, sister," the class poke-noserushed to greet the teacher. The students had decided that morning to wish every female teacher a Happy Women's Day.

Sister Carine's reaction was not what the girls expected though. She glared at the girl standing at her feet before dumping a stack of books she had carried into the class on the teacher's table, making the girl jump at the sound.

"What did you just say to me?" She towered over the girl, hands folded behind her back.

"Happy... Women's Day... sister," the girl stammered, taking a cautious step back.

In the two months Sister Carine took over from Sister Ophelia who travelled abroad for unknown reasons, the girls were beginning to recognise her moods. She was tall and voluptuous, and a little too dynamic for a woman in her vocation. Her teaching technique was unorthodox, and other than the bluntness with her students that could sometimes be mistaken for insults, she was fast becoming the school's most sought after teacher.

"Return to your seat immediately!" Sister Carine barked at the girl who cowered and ran to her seat. She turned to the class, poised and stern as always. "Was this your plan?" she asked, head cocked and eyes slightly narrowed. She had a strange way of always knowing what her students were thinking. "Did you spend the entire morning thinking up ways of wishing every female teacher who walks in the door a Happy Women's Day?"

Dozens of confused eyes stared back at her.

She snorted knowingly. "Do you even know what Women's Day means?" she said the words 'Women's Day' with such cynicism, as if they left a bad taste in her mouth. "Tell me, anyone, what is the meaning of Women's Day?"

A tentative hand rose. "Women's Day is a day set aside for the fight for women's rights," the student said carefully. The rest of the class agreed with her. Fabiola had been raised to believe that Women's Day was the most important day of the year in a woman's life. At home, her mother would be so delighted whenever Fabiola wished her a Happy Women's Day and told her that her new kabawas beautiful.

"What are women's rights?" Sister Carine persisted.

There was whispering in the classroom and then another hand rose. "To be stronger and more powerful than men. To take over the world."

"Hmm." Sister Carine weighed the girl's response. "So... Women's Day is a day set aside for the fight for women's rights, and a woman's right is to be stronger, dominant, and more powerful than a man," she strung the answers together thoughtfully.

The foxes all agreed.

Sister Carine gave her head a lopsided angle and her mouth paused in a pout. "If that is the case, how does the celebration of Women's Day factor into being stronger than a man? What role does this particular day play in the cause?"

The whispering in the classroom intensified. The girls had gone from being confused by her reaction to the well-known concept to liking the direction of the discussion.

"On Women's Day, women don't have to do anything at home. Their husbands cook, clean, and carry the babies on their backs," came an excited response.

"And that makes the women stronger than the men?" Sister Carine pointed out.

The girl nodded.

"On Women's Day, women go out without their husbands, get drunk, and come back home whenever they like, and the men are not allowed to say anything."

"On Women's Day, a woman is the man of the house."

"On Women's Day, some women drive tractors, trucks, and ride motorcycles... like the men do."

"Every year on Women's Day, women make beautiful new dresses, dress up and then go out and march."

"On Women's Day, men give women anything they ask for."

Sister Carine weighed each response with an amused expression.

"And what happens on Men's Day?" the good reverend asked when the girls had exhausted themselves of responses.

Fabiola was cracking her head trying to figure out what happens on Men's Day when another girl said, "There is no Men's Day, sister."

"Why?" the reverend asked. The girls looked confused. "Have you ever wondered why there is no Men's Day?" No response. Sister Carine shook her head sympathetically. "So young, so clueless. You don't even know what your rights are, what gender equality is, yet you defend a concept that has no doubt lost its meaning after being passed down for so many generations. But I guess I have to blame the relic for taking the choice away from you." She paused to consider her next words.

"Don't you think it's a little funny that we should only celebrate women on one out of 365 days of the year? We should celebrate men too, and in fact, all human beings."

"But sister, it's Women's Day," one girl dared to challenge the good reverend.

"I am aware of that, but don't you see the problem with one day designated for that purpose means that implicitly, we're not doing so in the overall? That if we have to call it a day then there is trouble afoot? Beyond that, the way people are going at Women's Day these days... and I am not criticising their intentions, which seem good, but the way in which their intentions are playing out, often seems to belittle the women they are attempting to support.

"I am not denying that the challenges faced by women are not real or that we have a long way to go. All around the world, women are raped, trafficked, denied education, confined and abused by traditional beliefs, abandoned to bring up children alone, underrepresented in parliament and at work, passed over for certain high posts and fighting around the world on a daily basis to be treated with dignity and to be accepted on equal terms.

"When we take a day off work every year to display our problems, play dress up, receive gifts, and are treated like royalty, how does acting so entitled in a quest for gender equality help our cause?

"Tough women don't need a certain day to celebrate womanhood. The best thing women can do every day of their lives is to be strong and demand respect and to support the rights of women who might not be so lucky."

The class was staring at her.

She smiled sadly. "Look at your stupid faces staring at me like I've lost my mind. What was I thinking? You can't even bathe properly, so it's probable that you don't even understand me. Take out your exercise books.

"Petra, close your legs and sit up like a lady. Ansahmbom, read from the last paragraph." She veered the discussion away from Women's Day.

She seemed agitated for the duration of the class. Sometime before the end of the class, she wandered off religious studies as usual and lectured on self-esteem and then gave the girls an assignment that entailed defining gender equality and listing five women's rights.

***

"Yvonne, please I need to talk to you." Fabiola pulled Yvonne to the backyard the next day during break. Strangely enough, Yvonne followed pliantly. "I think I have sugar-sugar,"Fabiola blurted out once they were standing on the landing behind the classrooms and out of earshot.

Yvonne shrugged. "Then go and consult." She did not seem nearly as shocked or as disgusted as Fabiola had imagined she would be. "How long?"

"Two weeks."

"How bad is the itchiness?"

"What?"

"Your tortor.Is it itching too much?"*

Fabiola gaped at Yvonne and then checked the environment to make sure that no one had heard her. Sugar-sugar* was something the school authority warned the girls about the first week of school but Fabiola had never heard of anyone who actually contracted it.

"Why are you acting so surprised? Sugar-sugar* is a common infection in places like this because we use latrines. More than half the school has had it at some point. I had it last term."

"What? When?"

"I was not talking to you then," Yvonne said flatly. Fabiola glared. A girl walked past and they both waited until she was out of sight. "If the itchiness is bad, you need to see a doctor immediately. That thing is very dangerous. I heard that a girl contracted it last year, was not treated on time, and it resulted in oozing in her dudu.It got so bad that she had to pad herself constantly."

Every word spilling from Yvonne's mouth intensified Fabiola's fear. Was it already too late for her? She had noticed a slight tingling in her private part two weeks ago and waited for it to subside but the more time passed, the more the discomfort grew. She couldn't wait ten minutes without pressing her thighs together to relieve the tingling, and she'd been carrying the burden around. Choosing to confide in Yvonne was a spur of the moment thing.

"The school does not cover the cost of medication for sugar-sugar* because it's expensive. You have to go home and consult. Break is almost over; let us go." Yvonne started up the footpath.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were sick?" Fabiola accused, ignoring Yvonne's haste to go back to class.

"You have to learn how to pee like a boy else you will keep contracting the infection even after it's treated," Yvonne said over her shoulder, ignoring Fabiola's question.

"But I'm a girl. How do I pee like a boy?"

"I will show you how," Winfrey's voice cut into the conversation, startling both girls. Fabiola swirled to find Winfrey leaning against the wall a few feet away from them. Neither of them had seen or heard her before that.

"How long have you been standing there?" Fabiola demanded. Too many people knew about her problem and she was not comfortable with it.

Winfrey ignored Fabiola's fuming and took a couple of steps into the lawn behind the classrooms. Without warning, Winfrey spread her legs without squatting, reached underneath to pull something aside discreetly without lifting her school skirt, and then started peeing. Standing. Like a boy.

Fabiola watched in horror. When Winfrey was through, she shook herself off and came towards Fabiola and Yvonne, grinning smugly—like she had not just done the most ridiculous thing Fabiola had ever seen.

"How did you—" Fabiola stammered.

"That is how you pee like a boy," Winfrey boasted in Fabiola's face, pointing at the wet patch on the lawn. "And you have to do the same when pooping. You can also contract sugar-sugar* and a number of other infections from the hot vapour that comes from the toilet hole. Sometimes I just pooh in a plastic bag and dump in the toilet. It's safe that way."

Fabiola's eyes grew wider with every word coming out of Winfrey's mouth.

"What?" Winfrey said defensively. "Everybody does it. I'm surprised that you don't know." She said the last part in earnest as if she was secretly accusing Fabiola of something. "Close your mouth."

The school bell announced break over before Fabiola could come up with any concrete words.

***

Later that evening, Fabiola paid a visit to the school nurse and she seemed as unsurprised by Fabiola's problem as Yvonne and Winfrey. She asked Fabiola if she was sure that she had a yeast infection or candidiasis and if Fabiola was using the infection as an excuse to go home as was the case with most students. Fabiola swore her honesty. The nurse signed off on a piece of paper and asked Fabiola to present to the discipline master. With the discipline master's permission, Fabiola left for Bamenda the next day with a long list of things her classmates wanted her to buy from Bamenda. She returned to school the next day with a pack of vaginal tablets that were too painful to insert and a bottle of something liquid to put in a litre of water twice a day to clean her private parts with.

That same week, Sister Carine introduced what she called the 'Self-esteem concept' to the school. She presented three large mirrors to the school during the morning assembly. The concept embodied everything that was supposed to make women feel worthy of themselves. The plan was a weekly inspection of the dormitories wherein the top three cleanest dormitories would be awarded mirrors, big, bigger, biggest, respectively. These dormitories would keep the mirrors for a week until the next inspection and a permanent mirror would be awarded to the dormitory that kept the record for a month straight. The students found the concept extremely stimulating and fought tooth and nail for the mirrors.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The second term break went by in a blur and the girls found themselves right back where they'd been two weeks before, fighting the same battles and waiting for yet another break. In the spirit of reassurance, the drag wasn't as stretched as yesterday's. Third term was the shortest and last term of the school year, no longer than a month and two weeks. The predictable rush of abundance had come and gone and the atmosphere regained sameness. The curtail on the third term meant less time for play and more pressure to study in order to make it to the next class. The extremists took to soaking their feet in buckets of cold water at odd hours of the night, outside of prep time, just to stay awake and study. Water shortages also persisted during this period making it harder for the girls.

One Wednesday morning a week before exams, Winfrey led a gang of five, including Fabiola, Ansah, Sama, and Corazon—Miss Munchausen Syndrome—off course, on the way to school. She led them into a dark, wild bush despite their protests that they might be late for maths class.

Fabiola's unease grew with every step, and she kept aiming quick cautious glances over her shoulder to make sure that they were within calling distance. She clutched the straps of her school bag and drew her school skirt up around her ankles to keep the angry thorns from tearing the fabric. Seeds from towering wild grass clung to Fabiola's school pullover and she fought irritably to keep them off. She'd willingly accompanied Winfrey on numerous unauthorised adventures, but they never wandered off that far before. She was relieved when they came to a stop on ploughed land swamped with palm trees. Unlike the barren bushes leading there, the farm beds and furrows were ample with nuts ready for picking. The girls squealed excitedly at having hit jackpot and delved right into picking, mindless of the ridges. There was no space left in Fabiola's school bag between her books and the nuts by the time she was through picking her fill.

The girls were snatched from a moment of contentment when they heard someone picking their way through the surrounding bush. The first instinct was to flee, but Winfrey shushed everyone with a finger to her lips and motioned for them to hide along the dirt furrows that barely had enough cover. Uniform and all, the girls dove between the farm beds mindless of the dirt and waited for the intruder to pass, hearts pounding.

"I know say una dey inside that farm. I give una ten seconds for comot before I shoot some man with gun,"a man's voice warned from nearby.

The girls did not wait for the man to repeat himself, or wait around to find out exactly how serious the threat was; they took off running and screaming in the direction they had come. Invisible footsteps chased them from the bush.

Fabiola ran as fast as her feet could carry her, unmindful of the ripping sounds of fabric. The weight of her school bag slowed her steps but there was no time to stop and empty its content.

Never again shall I follow Winfrey!

Just a week ago, Winfrey convinced Fabiola to spit in Dorm-cap's drinking water, after being called red-face* and asked to fetch drinking water by Dorm-cap. Fabiola did not regret the act though. She would do it again with or without Winfrey's influence. The new Dorm-cap, like the old one, liked to call Fabiola names based on the colour of her skin and Fabiola hated it.

The thumping footsteps vanished when the girls reached the main road, but none of them stopped running or paused to look back until they were safely Up-campus. It was as quiet as a graveyard Up-campus, with no soul lingering outside.

Mr Clement took his sweet time answering the classroom door when the girls knocked and then bombarded them with the obvious question. "Where are you coming from?"

The girls stammered a series of inconsistent responses.

"Kneel! All of you," he growled.

While the girls knelt on the cold veranda, Mr Clement went into the classroom and returned with a molongo.The girls shivered at the sight of the cane. The molongo was only used to punish the gravest of offences.

When the first lash landed on Winfrey's vulnerable palm leaving behind an angry red line, Fabiola was filled with terror. She started crying even before it was her turn and then she bit her lip, closed her eyes and extended her hand towards torture. The group of five cried and cried for Mr Clement to stop hurting them, but he kept at it, going from one girl to the other, delivering as many lashes as possible. A few excited faces could be seen watching from the classroom windows. All hell broke loose when Mr Clement reached Corazon—Miss Munchausen Syndrome—and she started convulsing even before the man raised his cane.

"Stop that rubbish and show me your hand. Faking illness will not save you this time," Mr Clement warned, poking at the girl's quivering form with his cane. The shaking intensified and Corazon collapsed on the veranda. Mr Clement poked at her some more. "Get up right now, or I will double your punishment," he insisted.

Fabiola watched the scene while soothing her abused palms. She was torn between believing Corazon's malady and dismissing it as one of the many she faked on a daily basis to gain attention. Everyone in the school referred to Corazon as Miss Munchausen Syndrome for this reason.

All of a sudden, Corazon's body went still; no breathing, stiff as a corpse, and eyes rolled up in her head.

"Call the boarding mistress, now!" Mr Clement panicked.

A few teachers came running out of the staff room and others from their respective classrooms. Students could be seen hanging from the windows. The boarding mistress/health science teacher/school nurse was available and quick on her feet to come to Corazon's rescue. Corazon was whisked away to the makeshift infirmary, and the rest of the school went back to class.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

One Thursday afternoon, Fabiola and a girl called Hannah arrived at the dormitory late from lunch and Dorm-cap sent them away to spend the forty-five minute siesta break outside as punishment. Exams were approaching and missing siesta was not an option, but it was better than kneeling on Dorm-cap's space for the duration of the break. After a while spent idling about the frontage of the dormitory, the two girls who barely acknowledged each other before that day, found themselves wandering around the school pit, behind the St Clare's Dormitory.

Hannah called Fabiola's attention when she saw a ladder set against the barrier next to the pit—an unusual addition and a clear route for anyone looking to scale the fence. It was probably just an oversight by one of the school hands whose job was at stake because the school took seriously to keeping the girls caged in. Like a dog with a bone, Hannah climbed the ladder to the top. Fabiola knew the implications and did not want to be involved so she walked away from the ladder—until she heard Hannah yelp and came hurrying down the ladder.

"What is it?" Fabiola asked, concerned.

"Woyo!"Hannah cried, signalling Fabiola to come to the ladder. Fabiola ran to the ladder. "Climb." Hannah insisted when Fabiola hesitated on the first step. The freaked-out look on Hannah's face made it impossible for Fabiola to resist the climb. She made certain that the ladder was firm before climbing to the top of the high concrete wall. Her heart gave a start and her head spun dizzily when her gaze dropped to the scene below. She took a moment to calm herself and tried not to focus on the height.

Curiosity overcame fear when Fabiola's gaze wandered off the dirt road spread out beneath and landed on two figures behind a small apartment building, aligned with the school wall. She squinted to get a good look and what she saw shook her footing. She only just managed to catch herself from falling. It was the French teacher, Mr Moses, in a lip-lock with—Fabiola suppressed a gasp by clapping a hand over her mouth.

"Did you see?" Hannah asked eagerly from below. Fabiola blinked at the scene several times as if to clear her vision.

"See, I told you. What do we do?" Hannah asked when Fabiola climbed down the ladder. She was boiling over with excitement.

"I... Um... Let's take another look," Fabiola said, curious as well.

They took the ladder again and squeezed in at the top to share the view. The two figures below were still lip-locking, but there was more touching now—touching in places that— _ick... why is the girl giving Mr Moses permission to dishonour her so?_ As disgusted by the view as Fabiola was, she could not bring herself to stop watching.

Suddenly, as if alerted by instinct, Mr Moses turned and looked right at Fabiola and Hannah, causing both girls to gasp in shock and go scuttling down the ladder mindless of its health. Fabiola landed on her back with a thud and a groan. The ladder swayed and missed both girls by inches.

"Do you think he saw us? I think he saw us." Hannah was breathlessly checking herself for injuries.

Fabiola glanced wildly around noting that the only thing keeping them from Mr Moses was the concrete wall, for the moment. "I don't think he saw us," she said unconvincingly, wiping the dirt from her uniform.

The bell announcing the end of siesta caused both girls to jump. They ran to the dormitory gripped by fear of what the future held for them in the hands of Mr Moses and his— _and Senior Jennifer, the labour prefect._

***

Fabiola and Hannah made it to supper that evening without a peep from Mr Moses. Senior Jennifer on the other hand, had magically returned to the school and was going about her business like nothing had happened, which was very confusing to Fabiola and Hannah. As young as they were, they knew the implications of what they had witnessed. The two girls barely ate supper that evening out of anxiety and stayed huddled together in a new bond, checking the door every few seconds for the devil.

When the principal made an impromptu appearance that evening, Fabiola knew for a fact that she was dead. Impromptu visits on the principal's part were rare and only meant one thing; there was dismissal afoot. When the principal cleared her throat, Fabiola grabbed Hannah's hand under the table and held her breath.

"This school aspires towards raising ladies, not harlots," she snarled. She had a way of accentuating words when she was angry. There was a wrapper tied over her habit, which meant she'd been interrupted. She hated interruptions. "It has come to my attention that a few of you have found fraternising with the staff suitable."

Fabiola had no idea what the word 'fraternising' meant, but the whispers in the refectory gave her a clue. She was definitely in trouble.

"I can't even bear to look at some of you right now knowing what I know. Did you stop to think about the implications of your actions to this school, to yourselves, and to the young? Have you lost so much self-respect that you will spread your legs in such a disgraceful manner?" There was whispering in the audience, especially coming from the senior students.

"Shut your mouths!" the principal barked. "You should know that the only reason I am not dismissing anyone right now is because I am still working on the information I have received and mind you, I will find out the truth."

Fabiola released a shaky breath when the principal finished her speech with, "A prize awaits anyone who has information concerning the fraternisation between teachers and students," and then took off.

"I think we should report what we saw," Hannah whispered the second Sister Jude stepped out of the refectory.

"I was thinking the same th... " The words died in Fabiola's throat when she saw in the periphery of her vision, a tall figure leaning against the refectory door. She turned just in time to lock eyes with Mr Moses—just standing there, glaring at the two of them—and who knew for how long. Fabiola turned away quickly, heart pounding. Mr Moses was the least likely to make an impromptu appearance in the school during prep and even when he did, he went as far as the staff room. If he was there, then it meant—

"Fabiola, Hannah, staff room, now!"

Fabiola jumped when Mr Moses roared their names. He did not wait to see if they would follow; he took off.

Every eye in the refectory was on Fabiola and Hannah as they dragged their feet towards the door. Being summoned to the staff room meant two things. It was either you had a parcel from home, or you were in big trouble.

Fabiola and Hannah did not make it to the staff room as planned because Mr Moses was waiting for them by the infirmary building. The girls yelped when they ran into a giant figure, and he immediately pressed a finger to his lips to shush them. The lights in that section of the school were out, and his bulky silhouette alone dwarfed and intimidated the girls. The lights streaming from the refectory highlighted parts of his features, especially his famous whiskers, reminding Fabiola of the men from Oliver Twist. Some senior and junior students were fond of calling him Ramsey Noah and took turns seeking his attention. They found his habit of spicing up English sentences with French synonyms 'sexy'. He was as mean as the devil with a cane, but the students were drawn to him like moths to a flame. Fabiola heard a while back that two seniors fought over him in the dormitory.

"What were you doing standing on the fence this afternoon? And don't bother denying it because I saw you," he rumbled, folding one beefy arm over the other across his chest to scowl at the girls. The unique deepness of his voice had the ability to render a raucous crowd noiseless with just one sharp French command—"Silence!!!" The mimicry of his style was common among the students, especially when attempting to restore order.

"We did not see anything, sir," Fabiola said in a small voice.

"We were only trying to get a good view of Bafut from the fence, sir," Hannah contributed and both girls nodded in confirmation.

The man scowled at the two of them considerately before saying, "Do you have any idea what will happen to you if I report you to the principal for trying to scale the fence?"

"Chai, sir! We were not trying to scale the fence oh! We were just—"*

"Keep your voices down!"

"Please, sir, don't report us. We found a ladder leaning against the wall and we—"

"I came here just to warn you, but it seems I've changed my mind. I have to take you to the principal. What lesson will I be teaching you if I cover this up?" Mr Moses said, seeming disappointed in the girls and then turned on his heel and started walking towards the staff room.

"Weh sir! Please na, sir.* We are sorry. We will not tell anybody what we saw," they pleaded desperately, running after the teacher. He kept on walking and they squirmed on the verge of tears.

A few steps away from the staff room—away from Sister Jude—he stopped and turned to the girls. "Are you sure that you did not tell anyone about what you saw?" he demanded, bending over at the waist to meet each girl at eye level.

They nodded eagerly, wide-eyed, and tearful.

"If you are lying to me, I will find out eventually, and do I need to tell you what happens when I get angry?"

"No, sir."

"Good girls. Because I'm in a good mood today, I will let you two go with a warning. If I see you over any fences in the future, or hear that you have breathed a word of what you saw today to anyone, I will not hesitate to take you to the principal, understood?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Now run back to the refectory before I change my mind." He snapped his fingers at the girls and they ran.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Yvonne's Big found new ways to torment her over the course of time. Fabiola did not understand why Yvonne stayed on as Antoinette's Small, and she tried every trick in the book to get Yvonne to see how dysfunctional, but the two seemed to have an utterly different understanding of how relationships worked. Antoinette was an older, meaner version of Hiris to the school at large. Antoinette did not only torture her victims with mean words like Hiris did, she spread untrue rumours about them, and she told the lies so well they stuck.

Winfrey was popular for being the fox with an ever flowing trunk and as a result; quite the ideal Small, but she never took a Big. Antoinette had offered to become Winfrey's Big on several occasions, and Winfrey made a big show of turning her down, every time, using choice words like langaand poke nose* to describe Antoinette. Antoinette caught wind of this and started a rumour about Winfrey that Winfrey never took a bath with soap, which was equivalent to saying that Winfrey was dirty. Antoinette also had the school believing that Winfrey had a contagious rash called cam-no-goand mumps. For someone so popular, isolation was a struggle for Winfrey.

The last of Fabiola's resolve crumbled when she saw Winfrey crying behind the classroom one afternoon. "Why are you crying?" Fabiola asked sitting beside Winfrey on the grass. Winfrey's bravery was something Fabiola had come to rely on and seeing her reduced to tears by cruelty angered Fabiola. Her hand reached to stroke Winfrey's back, but Winfrey flinched, wiping angrily at the tears in her eyes.

"I am not crying!" Winfrey shouted. "What are you doing here anyway? Aren't you afraid of contracting something?"

Fabiola chuckled. "Shut up! You don't have mumps or cam-no-go."*

"How do you know?"

"I know what mumps and cam-no-go* look like because I had mumps once and cam-no-go* throughout primary school. I don't think you have either."

Winfrey regarded Fabiola carefully before abandoning the scepticism. She wiped at the remainder of the tears in her eyes and turned to gaze into space. "I don't know what to do," she admitted in a small voice.

"I know. She has threatened me twice for standing up for Yvonne. We have to do something about it."

"We do? We do!" Winfrey jumped to her feet. "We have to do something about it!" She started pacing the grass.

Uh oh!

Fabiola's shoulders dropped, sensing the wheels spinning in Winfrey's head. She'd watched Winfrey sulk for a week and the flicker of mischief rearing its ugly head was not exactly what Fabiola had hoped for.

***

During prep that night, Winfrey slipped Fabiola a piece of paper that said,

Meet me at the Carpenter's workshop in fifteen minutes. I'll go first. Wait ten minutes and follow.

W to the F.

Fabiola arrived at the Carpenter's workshop exactly fifteen minutes later.

"Come this way," Winfrey whispered, emerging from the shadows and startling Fabiola. "We cannot be seen here."

"I don't like this place." Fabiola shivered looking around. It was dark and the branches from the evil tree loomed over them. An image of a girl turning into a pig and running into the cabin kept popping up in her head. "Ey, Winfrey, this place is haunted."

"What?"

"The story the former Dorm-cap told us about the... " Fabiola snapped her fingers desperately at Winfrey, trying to get her to remember the story without necessarily having to retell it in the dark.

"Ah! You mean that story? I've told you to stop believing every tale you hear. People just want to scare you and limit your imagination. Come with me." Winfrey pulled Fabiola deeper into the shadows, and she followed reluctantly.

***

"Who peed in Antoinette's bucket?" The question bounced off from dormitory to dormitory the next morning. The girls had just finished bathing and were preparing for morning Mass. Excited and curious whispering replaced the usual gloominess that came with the mornings. It was not very often that the students rejoiced over someone giving payback to one of the most hated girls in the school.

It seemed Antoinette found out that someone peed in her bathing water half way through taking a bath. All hell broke loose and she went from dorm to dorm accusing everyone. She was convinced that the foxes were responsible though, which led to a quarrel between her and the St Clare's dormitory captain for accusing her girls without proof.

"Yvonne." Fabiola walked up to Yvonne while the rest of the dormitory was whispering about the incident.

"What?" Yvonne said, moving away from her valise to stand next to Fabiola.

Fabiola checked for eavesdroppers, caught the edge of Yvonne's school pullover, and spoke into her ear. "I did it."

Yvonne pulled back. "Did what?"

"I peed in Antoinette's bucket," Fabiola whispered happily. Her heart was still pounding from what she and Winfrey did the previous night. She'd hardly slept a wink.

Yvonne pulled back with a gasp this time. "I will report," she said a little too loudly.

"Keep your voice down," Fabiola hissed, poking Yvonne in the stomach. Yvonne winced. "If you open your mouth, I will beat you senseless, do you hear me?" Yvonne tried to push past Fabiola, but Fabiola blocked her part treading until Yvonne's body was hard-pressed against Fabiola and a locker.

"I will report." Yvonne pouted and then doubled over in pain when Fabiola jabbed her on the ribcage. Fabiola went on and stomped on Yvonne's foot who cried out, "Ok, Ok. I will not say anything." Fabiola stopped. People were staring at the two of them, especially Winfrey, disgruntled.

"I will not say anything," Yvonne repeated when Fabiola glared at her one last time before taking off.

"I told you that telling Yvonne is a bad idea. Look at her. She's crying and the next thing is that she'll report us. She reports everybody. Why do you think that she will make an exception for you?" Winfrey accused Fabiola the minute she walked into Winfrey's space. They were both dressed and ready to go at the strike of the bell.

"She will never report me. She might want to, but she won't," Fabiola said with conviction, her gaze stuck on Yvonne from across the room. Yvonne was still struggling with the remainder of her clothes and petting her stomach where Fabiola jabbed her. She seemed to be in a great deal of pain, but who knew; Yvonne loved to exaggerate.

"What did you say to her?" Winfrey was still fidgeting.

"That I will beat her senseless if she opens her mouth."

"And you think that it will work? Look at you... you can't even beat a fly."

"Oh yes! I can. Yvonne remembers all too well how I can beat from primary school."

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

"I don't like that girl. I don't like the way she walks, I don't like the way she talks, and I definitely don't like the way she looks. She annoys me."

"Maybe the reason you don't like her is because she's friends with Yvonne now and you are jealous."

"Who? Me? Jealous? Pfft."

"I'm just saying," Winfrey said to Fabiola, shrugging innocently. The two were seated at the back of the class, making idle gossip while the rest of the class engaged in a series of countless activities.

Third term's rascal week was dull and long and the girls were under strict instructions to keep in mind the GCE examination would soon start. This meant that the non examination classes were not allowed to engage in rowdy activities, which summed up everything rascal week was about. The school authority had gone as far as making the rest of the school spend the days Up-campus to keep them away from the examination classes.

The only enlightening event during this period was the celebration of the National Day and the five-hour outing break thereafter, which ended too soon. A fox pretended to be possessed by evil spirits on National Day's Eve and received an exorcism by way of Mr Cane's whip.

Throughout second and third term, there were reported incidents of students waking up in strange places like the lawns, or bathrooms, and having no recollection of how they got there during the night. The students responsible for these acts were two form four students, best friends, and the only reason their identities were discovered was because of a fight between the two wherein they snitched on each other. These students were suspended, and threats of withholding their report cards were made.

Three more days to Closing Day, filled with endless unoccupied hours Up-campus and on half-filled bellies was not what the girls had hoped for. Within the first few days of rascal week, a significant portion of the school, especially the prefects, used the hours spent Up-campus to give themselves unauthorised outings. The junior classes used the time as well to wander the bushes in search of food.

As usual, the principal was alerted to these activities and it resulted in the dismissal of two students for taking off to Bamenda without permission and the rest of the school being grounded. The students were expected to stay in the classrooms within the time spent Up-campus and to do so in an orderly manner. The prefects made sure of that. As frustrating as sitting in the classroom all day was, digging a stump, or toiling away in the school farm seemed like a bad alternative.

The students strived still though, for the light at the end of the tunnel, where a three-month long vacation awaited. However, hopeful, uncertainty and worry regarding the imminent khaki night* plagued the students. Third term's khaki night* was not just to ridicule the dullest students and applaud the brightest. It was actually the night that determined who got left behind and who moved on to the next class. Students shed tears and spent sleepless nights contemplating the possibility of repeating a class the next academic year while their real classmates rejoiced on the ladder. Disappointing their parents, being made fun of by their brand new classmates, or called repeaterby the rest of the school was something every student dreaded. Getting promoted on trial was considered an unfit step up the ladder with students who had actually earned the privilege. Some repeaters* preferred changing schools to showing their faces in the same school the next academic year.

Fabiola folded her arms under her chest and glared at Yvonne and her new friend. The two seemed to be getting closer by the day and Fabiola had hoped it was a passing thing. It bothered her to see Yvonne with someone else. Yvonne had stopped talking to Fabiola altogether since the whole 'pee in the bucket' thing.

"Why won't you talk to me?" Fabiola confronted Yvonne.

"I don't want to talk to you. You are a very bad girl, and you did a very bad thing."

"I did it for you. For us. I noticed that Antoinette stopped being your Big. What happened?"

"Leave me alone."

Yvonne did not rat out Fabiola but gave Fabiola an attitude worse than treachery. Fabiola even went as far as pinching Yvonne's ears to stomping on her feet constantly to force her to talk back, but other than the whimpering, Yvonne refused to say a word.

"Incoming!" someone called from the classroom door. It was code for, 'Time to share test papers'. The foxes gathered excitedly. The teachers had started distributing the marked test papers a few days earlier and the girls waited sun and rain every day for the hour. The mark earned by a student per test paper was a key determinant of khaki status. Some students cried after receiving their papers and others hid the papers. The tradition among the brain boxeslike Fabiola, Ansah, and a few others, was to compare marks after the distribution of each test paper to determine the leading contestant.

"Ngam Fabiola," the class prefect called. Fabiola ran to the front of the class and snatched her paper.

Yiss!

"Let me see." Ansah was right on Fabiola's heel.

"Here." Fabiola passed her paper to Ansah and grabbed Ansah's.

"Oh my God! I scored 20/20 and you scored 18/20. This is the second paper I've scored higher this week!" Fabiola squealed her excitement, sparing no modesty. Ansah followed Fabiola back to her seat. To Fabiola's discomfort, Ansah was studying the two papers closely, hands shaking.

"I failed number four and you had the answer correct," Ansah accused near tears. Fabiola leaned closer to see what Ansah meant. "When we were studying for the exams you argued that mass is measured in newtons and that weight is measured in kilogrammes. You wrote the reverse in your paper."

"I did?" Fabiola gave a nervous laugh, faking innocence. _Ooops!_ She might have misled Ansah on purpose. Ansah was the girl everyone went to for answers. She never asked for help regarding schoolwork. She'd shocked Fabiola by asking to be tutored in physics. The act was not premeditated at the time, but Fabiola had seized an opportunity to get ahead. Now judging from the pained look on Ansah's face, Fabiola wasn't so sure she'd made the right decision.

Ansah opened her mouth a couple of times but shook her head instead. The disbelief, hurt, anger, and disappointment on her face almost made Fabiola feel guilty for her actions. Just when Fabiola cooked up an excuse, Ansah burst into tears and ran to her seat. Winfrey lifted an eyebrow in question from the front of the class where she was still waiting to collect her paper, and Fabiola shrugged innocently. The class mistook Ansah's outburst for jealousy because everyone knew of the competitive nature of their relationship. Fabiola did not discourage the follow-up rumour that painted Ansah as someone too jealous to handle the thought of anyone earning a mark higher than hers. A good portion of the school hated Ansah for this reason.

Ansah did not contradict the rumour; not while they were in form one, and not when Ansah came first in the class for the third time in a row that year. The smirk on Ansah's face on khaki night* when she walked past Fabiola on stage occupying second position said it all.

Fabiola was still in shock and fighting discontent with a fake smile while the crowd applauded them.

_The teachers ought to have made a mistake._ She thought with a heavy heart. She'd been certain she would make it to first position that term.

"You will never make it to first position as long as I'm alive," Ansah whispered into Fabiola's ear, just before embracing her, as was the required tradition for the victors.

Fabiola faltered, thinking that three months was a long time to live up to the challenge.

The End

Thank you for reading my book. If you enjoyed it, won't you please leave a review at your favourite retailer?

About the Author

M.T. Xavière was born and raised in the North West Region of Cameroon. She carries a cast of thousands in her head, enjoys experimenting with her writing, and trying her hand in different genres. This is her first published novel. Visit M.T.Xaviere on Facebook, or send her Email via mtxaviere@yahoo.com.

Acknowledgements

I want to thank God and also my parents who, despite earning minimum wage, made sure to provide the best education for my siblings and me. I want to thank my friends, Ronald Awa Longla, Aya Marie Hewlett, Anyam Pius, and my sisters Nuella, Tessa, Hazelle, and Carine, for supporting, encouraging, and pushing me to take this leap.

About the Book

Take a peek behind the curtain of a typical African boarding school. Fabiola, a naïve girl leaves her village for the first time to attend an esteemed all-girl boarding school miles away from home with high hopes and expectations. She finds herself in an extremely hostile environment and surrounded by strangers. Acquiring an education is not all there is for Fabiola as she struggles constantly with the unpredictable nature of the environment and has her spirits lifted and her heart broken several times in the process.

THE CAMEROON NATIONAL ANTHEM

English Version:

O Cameroon, Thou Cradle of our Fathers,

Holy Shrine where in our midst they now repose,

Their tears and blood and sweat thy soil did water,

On thy hills and valleys once their tillage rose.

Dear Fatherland, thy worth no tongue can tell!

How can we ever pay thy due?

Thy welfare we will win in toil and love and peace,

Will be to thy name ever true!

Chorus:

Land of Promise, land of Glory!

Thou, of life and joy, our only store!

Thine be honour, thine devotion,

And deep endearment, for evermore.

From Shari, from where the Mungo meanders.

From along the banks of lowly Boumba Stream,

Muster thy sons in union close around thee,

Mighty as the Buea Mountain be their team;

Instil in them the love of gentle ways,

Regret for errors of the past;

Foster, for Mother Africa, a loyalty,

That true shall remain to the last.

1 "A vengeful school ghost."

2 "Form one freshman."

3 "The person you share a space with in boarding school."

4 "Flip-flops."

5 "The person you share a bunk bed with in boarding school."

6 "I am from Fontem and I will teach you guys a lesson."

7 "Granny face."

8 "Second-hand clothes."

9 "Mouth odour."

10 "Long ears."

11 "Bulging eyes."

12 "A deep blue sweater put on over the head and covering the top half of the body .Each school in Cameroon has a unique kind."

13 "A small pail, usually with a lid."

14 "An immoral book."

15 "A rare kind of brown open-toe sandals made specifically for mission secondary schools in Cameroon."

16 "A kind of chocolate bar sold in Cameroon."

17 "West African fried pastry chips."

18 "West African plantain chips."

19 "Corn nuts, usually served with roasted groundnuts."

20 "Tapioca flour or cassava flour."

21 "Short for siesta."

22 "A kind of soup made from the okra plant."

23 "A presidential decree on November 12, 2008 officially endorsed the change from provinces to regions in Cameroon."

24 "Marine spirits, specifically mermaids."

25 "Bafut dialect for heart."

26 "Mature girls or bullies."

27 "A form of punishment where one stoops on one leg to touch the ground with one finger and maintain the position. It is a popular form of punishment in schools in Cameroon."

28 "The second school campus."

29 "Cameroonian fried cassava balls."

30 "A West African one-pot dish."

31 "School mother."

32 "School ward."

33 "The act of merging the items in one's trunk with another. It can involve more than two parties."

34 "Cry baby."

35 "Kom dialect for, "So they too are afraid of Sister Jude?"

36 "A mix of the Kom dialect and Pidgin English for, "I know, right!"

37 "Non-foxes and non-seniors."

38 "A light-skinned person."

39 "A kind of bread common in the North and South West Regions of Cameroon."

40 "An insult to someone who holds too much importance to their name."

41 "Lower sixth freshmen (in this context)."

42 "My name is...I come from..."

43 "I am called... I am from..."

44 "Exaggerated portrayal of a Small's duties."

45 "Exaggerated portrayal of a Big's duties."

46 "An exclamation usually expressing discontent, a cry for mercy, disappointment, compassion or regret."

47 "Short for refectorian."

48 "Study time."

49 "Lower bunkmate or the person occupying the lower bunk."

50 "Skinny girl."

51 "Of being too mouthy."

52 "A trade name for a kind of detergent sold in Cameroon."

53 "Bucket."

54 "Dormitory."

55 "Joking."

56 "Banso tongue."

57 "Tights."

58 "Unattractive skinny legs."

59 "Refectory."

60 "A period of extreme hunger in boarding schools."

61 "A one-pot dish of corn and beans popular in Cameroon."

62 "A deep fried dough popular in West Africa."

63 "A kind of fufu made from powdered corn, popular in Cameroon."

64 "A term of endearment or insult to a light-skinned person."

65 "A period of rampant thievery in boarding schools."

66 "French for thief."

67 "Today is a day of reckoning."

68 "A separate room in Cameroonian boarding schools where trunks are kept."

69 "A woman who sells accra."

70 "A boastful person or a know-it-all."

71 "Cooked food from home."

72 "The name of a stream."

73 "Someone who is desperate for friends."

74 "Good grief! I ran a long distance."

75 "Palm kernel."

76 "To bathe only certain parts of the body."

77 "The week before Closing Day."

78 "The eve of Closing Day."

79 "Calaba chalk is a geophagic material consumed in West African countries for pleasure and by pregnant women as a cure for nausea. The substance is very addictive and can cause health problems."

80 "Sweet potatoes."

81 "Prom."

82 "A night set aside for competitive dancing."

83 "A Congolese musician."

84 "Headband."

85 "Derogatory term for Christian."

86 "To take the stage on khaki night in the dullest category."

87 "Someone who is fearless and does not care what other people think of them."

88 "Exam malpractice."

89 "Prefects who climb khaki in the dullest category on khaki night."

90 "Excessive exercise of power by prefects."

91 "A traditional dish of corn-fufu, huckleberry and roasted chicken popular in the North West Region of Cameroon, especially with the Kom tribe."

92 "Local cinema."

93 "A kind of bag popular in West African counties."

94 "A kind of shopping bag sold in Cameroon."

95 "Local snow cones."

96 "Upper bunkmate or the person occupying the upper bunk."

97 "You stepped on my foot."

98 "Divisional officer."

99 "Senior prefect."

100 "Nasty."

101 "An incorrect version of the Cameroon national anthem. See correct version at the back."

102 "A form of punishment where a ruler is used on the knuckles to inflict pain."

103 "A popular appendage to the Cameroon national anthem, usually mimicking the sound of a band."

104 "A vote for me is a vote for success."

105 "Funny accent."

106 "Hungry and angry."

107 "Grammar check."

108 "A unique way of walking. Certain prominent boarding schools in Cameroon have special walkets. It is considered 'cool' in these circles."

109 "A student, especially of lower sixth who did not get elected into office but claims to have power and tries to exercise that power."

110 "National Bonaza Association."

111 "Someone who is desperate for a post."

112 "A pompous person or someone who pokes their nose into other people's business."

113 "A traditional African print dress for women."

114 "Yeast infection."

115 "Vagina. The word is used mostly by little girls in Anglophone Cameroon, usually because saying 'vagina' is considered vulgar."

116 "Vagina. Another word used by little girls."

117 "I see you guys. You have ten seconds to come out of there or I shoot."

118 "A special cane made from rough guava branches."

119 "An exclamation of alarm."

120 "Greed."

121 "A kind of rash."

122 "A slang for someone who repeats a class."

123 "Smart people."
