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The Now: Amanda POV
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2020-08-31 01:18:17There are only three words for what we are:
Young.
Wild.
Free.
Snoop and wiz khalifa said it all.
I get the feeling that this is what being a teenager should be like. That songs were made to be sang out loud, with lungs fresh from Heaven's factory. Life—to be experienced in an uncontrollable atomic fashion constituted by bursts of unbridle-able energy. The air—to be inhaled without thought or obligations or responsibilities; released, unshackled, worry-less, unchained—free.
Young.
Wild.
Free.
Until our eyes are fixed beyond the sun, our nostrils will know less roses than our skins the thorns.
Life is as complex as a pendulum tossed to and from opposing extremes. Though the storm rocks our boats and the gentle wind eases our rows, our peace still ebbs and flows, because until our eyes are fixed beyo
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One of the many unspoken rules of PH city everybody and their mamas know is that when you are in a place, and boys start speaking strange pidgin and sizing up one another or breaking bottles, you need to get out of there, and you need to do so quickly.I can't though. Bro code says so.Rule number one: Never let a brother go to war alone.Rule number four: Never leave a brother behind.It couldn't get any worse.I swear to God, Amadioha, Idemili, Ala, Anyanwu—every bit of divinity that cares to listen infact—if Abe gets us killed, I will resurrect him, just so i kill him myself.Abe punches the gee on his throat, and he staggers back, spluttering and spitting. Someone screams in the crowd and they disperse in a surge, on the brink of a stampede. The ruckus creates a rift between the guy and his backups, a small chasm of flowing bodies and for an instant he is alone. Abe follows up the fou
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Abe didn't get himself killed after all, as hard as he tried. That's some consolation. I think of neither the fight nor consolations on the ride home. There were still some taxis zooming on the highway at that time, even as young as the morning was. Chideziri shoved Chantelle and I into the first one that stopped. The cab dropped me off at home and I wave Chantelle good-bye. She was still glued to her phone. She seemed happier at the party, lighter, less like a scared child. I liked that. I think of Chideziri sliding his hand into his hair and pulling at a single stubborn kink. I think of Pascal rolling up the sleeves of his GAP sweater. I think of Abe, just before the fight, I think of how he moved care freely, the mad vibe he gave off. I think of Chantelle's laughter, rare and wonderful. I think of the lights, how you won't think that crimson could be so lively. I replay the night in my mind when I climb the steps, till when I turn the key in the lock. I don't notice the dis
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Amanda hasn't come online since we crashed the party.I'm thinking it's her battery. Or she has no data. Both of which are remediable if I knew which. Abe has been online, however, more than usual. Mostly, he's angry—at whom I don't know. How he is throwing shade online you'd think he sells sunglasses, i swear. He's there, talking about: They tried to put me down. But I came. I saw. I conquered. (Fire emoji)#undefeated.The guy is a joker. If Pascal and I hadn't showed up when we did, we'd be talking of how we should go about embalming him. I shut my trap though, lest he turn on me. I don't have strength for beef now.I am still lying there, on the sofa in the parlour, swinging my feet and laughing at his rants when Mumsi comes in. As soon as she showed up, she asked me a question, at the doorstep while I was still trying to haul in her numberless bags.Take a wild guess."Have you eaten?" or "how are you?" are t
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Tom drums always lead the march.They are not the largest, or the most domineering. Basses, with their hollow echoes that bounce back from all corners of the space, making the place seem like one large bubble, coveted that position. They are neither the most impressive nor ear-catching; that is a privilege known only to the whistling rattles of snares. No, they are not.Still, tom drums lead the march.When they call, every one else answers, without pause, without question. That precisely is why I chose the tom.We are on the field, every last Little feater in the secondary section, outside. Blades of manicured spear grass swish gently beneath our hooves, the belated silver afternoon sun directly in our eyes, blazing off the linen white of our bright green blazers. It drizzled hours before, a weightless shower that descended in slanted spears. The swishing grass at our feet is humid with beads of the sky's tears. After-rain s
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Amanda looks beautiful in that jeans pinafore, the honey brown of her face shining with that soft sleek translucence of oil. Her hand flies to the black choker circling her neck; she clutches it, her pupils dilating. I think have had enough of people stare at me with round eyes for one full day, so I go ahead to recite the sentence I repeated in my head over and over again on the way here till it started to sound right. Trust Chantelle, she won't come with me even when I begged her. In my experience, an extra person makes for easier conversations and less awkwardness. I practically groveled at that chap's feet; she wouldn't budge. Some much for Bro-code."Hey, Amanda, afar? You weren't—". She didn't even let me finish."What are you doing here?" She whispers. Good question. An even better answer: I let bloody Abe talk me into coming to your house."I just decided to come—"."How did you know the way to my house?". If sh
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