Dark Bonds

"In here is the cafeteria," I said, leading the little group of five through the school cafeteria, which gave off a dazzling sensation of blue. Circular tables were arranged in rows with five chairs per table, and the end of the large room was divided into four open partitions where the school cooks served lunch.

"Hey, where is the bathroom?" asked a cute-faced, chocolate-skinned boy (whom I snuck glances at), and I tried hard not to giggle in excitement because he was talking to me. Not that I cared—I am a very good-natured girl. Yes, a very good-natured girl. I won't get flustered because a male Adonis was talking to me.

"Hey," he said, waving his hands in front of my face with a smile. "Did you just zone out?"

Oh God, not the smile. Not the smile. This feeling—gosh, the cuteness overload is going to kill me. I shook my head to dispel my chaotic thoughts, then I looked up at him with a dazed face. "Say that again, please," I requested. I could feel the two girls glaring at me from behind, but I ignored them. Bitches will always be jealous. This was just a conversation.

The boy smiled at me again. Now he gave off the feeling that he knew he was cute and was using it to his advantage. I decided to stop playing around. It wasn't like I didn't have handsome dudes as my best friends.

"I was asking for the way to the—"

"Second door to the left, outside the cafeteria," I cut in, shooing him away with my hands toward the door.

The boy looked at me, amused, then he turned around and walked out without a word.

"Since this is the last place in the tour, I presume it's over," a boy with circular glasses asked. "I need to go finish up my sushi before it gets bitter."

"Ew," one of the girls blurted.

"Gross," I continued after her.

"Disgusting," the other chimed in.

"It's not as bad as you make it out to be. It's homemade from fresh tilapia and little bits of electric eel. If you would like a taste, I could get a sample—"

"Okay, guys, tour is over. Go home," I said, walking out of the cafeteria before I was done talking, passively resisting the urge to retch. I didn't know whoever that boy was, but I already hated him.

Classes hadn't quite started, so the hallway was buzzing with activity. I passed by Jake and Lizzy, both of whom were kissing beside his locker. With how grossed out I already felt, I couldn't help but speak my mind as I walked past.

"Both of you should get a room."

"Fuck you, Ada," Jake said with a laugh from behind, and I was sure he went back to kissing.

Still walking on, I heard footsteps behind me, and I turned to find Jessica, the head of our film club, struggling to keep up with me with a mountain of papers held over her two hands.

"What are those?" I asked, not that I cared to know.

She smiled, like that was a million-dollar question she expected from me. "I will tell you only if you agree to join our film club."

I kept quiet. Like hell I want to know.

Jessica snorted, her expression displeased at the absence of my curiosity. "These are the screenplays for our new production. You can come watch the auditions at the school auditorium, you know. I am sure it will blow your mind."

"Well, it's not bad," I replied, clearly thinking deeply now. "I will go talk to Aisha so that we can grab some popcorn. It's nice to watch a bunch of people embarrass themselves."

Jessica turned away from me with a grimace while mumbling under her breath, although I heard, "Talking to you always gets on my nerves."

I had reached math class already, and stretching my limp arms with a tired yawn, I walked into the rowdy classroom.

"Hey yo, Ada," Yusuf called me. "You look like someone who woke up on the wrong side of the bed, honey."

I took a seat beside Aisha, who hugged my arm to herself and somehow looked as devastated as I did. "Does it show?" I asked.

"It's worse than you can possibly imagine, but you can make it better by wearing a smile. So smile, honey, smile," he said.

"Fuck you," I replied, raising the middle finger to his face.

Just then, Mr. Cyprian walked into the classroom. The class quietened down.

But his walk today was different, his eyes felt hollow, and his steps clumsy. He had the air of a walking dead or zombie. Either one works fine. But it felt strange because the image of the confident and outspoken man I knew didn't rather mix well with the man in front of me.

"What happened to him?" I asked Aisha in a whisper.

"News going around now is that he offended someone that he shouldn't. And his family is at the receiving end of it," Aisha replied.

I wanted to ask Aisha more about all of that, but then my words stopped in my throat when Mr. Cyprian's voice boomed around the classroom.

Strangely, he was looking at me, and his eyes were filled with hate—at least that was what it seemed to me. Now I was curious.

"This is what our society is today," Mr. Cyprian's voice resonated, saliva and spittle flowing down his face, but he didn't seem to care. "A society where the rich folks like your parents piss on the ground and force those who aren't high and mighty like them to drink it up. Why? Why is that?" Mr. Cyprian screamed.

It was decided. Mr. Cyprian had gone mad, and I was sure the entire class would agree with me.

"Because I am poor, I don't have the right to say shit. Your mommies and daddies make the rules because they have power, and because I am a poor arsehole, I have to suck up to them whether I like it or not. The powerful make the laws, the powerful are absolute. Bullshit. Such bullshit," he yelled.

The thing is, Mr. Cyprian's speech—or whatever it was—was touching, but not everyone liked other people talking nonsense about their parents. From the frowns Mr. Cyprian pulled from all around the classroom, I could tell this would be his last day as a teacher.

"Are you all angry? You want to bash my head against a wall because you ain't wanna hear the truth?" he shouted, and then he laughed maniacally. "Watch this. This is what I call justice. This is what your rich assholes of parents do to nobodies like us," he screamed, placing his hands on the projector and turning it on. Then he focused the image on the screen.

It was a video clip, and before he pressed the play button, I could already feel my heart skip a beat. Dad was on the screen. This can't be good.

When he hit the play button, I could feel my heart beat faster. Dad was in Feyrol's club, one of the clubs owned by Ademuje, his friend, and he looked drunk on wine. I made a mental note to starve him of dinner for getting drunk when he wasn't supposed to touch alcohol in the first place.

Three of his friends, some of whom I recognized, surrounded him and engaged him in conversation.

Dad: The president is stupid.

Musa: Why do you say so, my friend? (Pours Dad more wine.)

Dad: (Laughs) I duped him of a billion dollars, and now he wants to take it out on the revenue committee. Such a coward.

Second Man: Tell us, Idris, how did you go about that? That old man has never lost in that game before.

Dad: I pulled in nonexistent foreign contracts from California, and he kept awarding them, thinking they were authentic.

Ahmed: That doesn't sound like him. He is too paranoid. He probably paid whatever company it is a visit.

Dad: Oh, he did. (Dad laughs.) I had to pull in connections from the Ministry of Labor in the United States when he sent his delegates. All they had to do was fool an old man. How hard could it be?

I stopped watching the clip at this point, my head woozy. Nobody was looking at the screen. All eyes were on their phones, and I could only guess this shit must be causing big waves on the internet.

"Ada, are you okay?" Aisha asked me, concerned.

"Am I?" I replied, turning my eyes away from Mr. Cyprian, who was still glaring at me. Now this man just makes me uncomfortable.

Just then, the doors flung open, and I recognized those who entered as officers from home.

"Miss Ada," Anthony, the captain, called me. "You need to come home, now."

I could tell, that wasn't a request.