CHINYERE

CHINYERE GLANCED AT the clock on the wall of her classroom every few minutes.

She tapped her fingers impatiently on her desk as though it would make time move faster.

She took a glance at her English Language teacher for the third time in the entire period.

His light brown eyes complemented his dark chocolate skin and his large bald head blocked a large proportion of the black chalk board. He was dressed in an oversized white shirt and blue jeans with green suspenders.

The man, who went by the name Teacher Johnson, spoke ever so slowly that sometimes he even bored himself to yawning and dozing every once in a while.

Chinyere wondered how he did not notice that everyone else in the classroom had their heads down on their desks and were probably in dreamland by now.

The sound of the bell ringing made the sleepy heads to jolt their heads up, suddenly energetic.

The classroom was now filled with murmuring sounds and laughter as the pupils packed their bags.

"Before you go," Teacher Johnson said as he scratched his forearm. For a teacher who had no sense of fashion, he sure was handsome and hand a thin body frame. He could become prosperous if he went into modeling.

The classroom was filled with groans and the pupils slouched into the chair.

"Just a word of advice," Teacher Johnson said, his fake American accent evident in his voice. "For both the girls and boys. The crime of human trafficking has greatly increased in the past month so, I advice you all to be careful and avoid bad company."

The entire class clapped loudly, not as a way to say 'Thank you, Teacher Johnson, for your wise words', but to rather say 'We've heard you, Sir. Now leave the classroom so we can go home'.

Teacher Johnson nodded with a forced smile on his face and walked out of the classroom with his books and the three sticks of chalk he'd brought into the classroom with him.

No sooner had Teacher Johnson gone past the door than pupils ran out of the classroom.

Chinyere packed her books in silence as her three closest friends walked up to her.

One of them sat on the desk to her right, the other on the desk to her left and third just stood by her side.

"So, Chi Chi, how about your mystery boy?" The one seated on her left, Rachel, asked her.

Rachel was a light skinned Nigerian. She had dirty, black hair and was of average height. Her round face and big brown eyes gave her an innocent look but she was far from innocent.

Mystery boy was the boy who kept sending messages to Chinyere on Facebook.

He seldom posted photos but the few photos he had posted and his profile picture was enough for Chinyere to know that he was handsome.

He was a tall, dark and handsome young man of seventeen.

"He wants to meet," Chinyere answered. "He said this evening."

"Are you going to meet him?" the one on the desk to her right, Amanda, asked.

Amanda was a rather fat girl, light in complexion and had short hair. She had a big nose and big lips but was considered cute by boys in the school.

"I don't think my father would approve of this," Chinyere answered. "My mother would react in an even worse manner."

"Your father this, your mother that," Rachel slapped her hands together as she mentioned Chinyere's parents. "Will you let your parents control your life forever? You're sixteen, you're old enough to make your own decisions. I say; you should go."

"I agree with Rachel," Amanda said, "didn't he say that he would help you with your modelling career?"

Chinyere was a tall, gorgeous girl with perfect skin.

Whenever she posted photos on social media people always commented on how she looked like a professional model.

The feedback had encouraged Chinyere to become a model, much to her parents' dismay. She just needed someone with connections to get her into the modelling agency and Mystery boy was her ticket.

"I disagree," Tunde, the boy by Chinyere's side said, "what if he has hidden intentions?"

"Tunde!" Rachel said. "Who asked for your own point of view? You have come here as the devil, abi? To take away this opportunity that the Lord has provided unto her?

"H'm, Rachel," Tunde said, "I'm just looking out for my friend. It's her decision in the end."

That Tunde and Rachel didn't like each other was no surprise. The two dated for a while but Tunde broke up with her, classifying her as a rotten egg.

The only reason why he was still talking to her was because of Chinyere. She was like a sister to him.

Chinyere was about to interfere when the head teacher walked into the classroom.

"Don't you children know it's an hour past the time school ended?" the old woman asked.

"An hour?" Chinyere asked and glanced at the wall clock in the class.

It had indeed been an hour. Chinyere slung her bag over her shoulder and ran out of the classroom without bidding a farewell to her friends.

She was supposed to pick her eight year old brother from school an hour ago.

How did time pass so fast?

Chinyere mounted the bike that she had parked at the school gate.

"Bye Mr. Nwokoye!" she told the gateman as she rode away from her school and down to her brother's school.

When she got to the school, the gates were just being locked.

The gateman whistled as he locked the gates.

He twirled the key round his index finger and turned around to meet Chinyere.

He knew Chinyere because he had worked for her parents a while as a gatekeeper before quitting to work for the school.

"Ah, Chinyere," he had a smile on his face as he spoke, "wetin you dey look for?"

"Did Daddy come to pick Onyedikachi?" she asked, inwardly hoping that he hadn't.

"Yes," he answered, "he just left with Onyedikachi recently."

Chinyere groaned, "I'll see you tomorrow, Emma."

"Remember me to your mother," Emmanuel said.

Chinyere nodded and rode off to her home.

If she was lucky, she could reach home before her father and tell him that she did go to Onyedikachi's school but didn't find him.

Nothing went according to her plan.

By the time she got home, her father's van was already parked in the garage.

Chinyere parked her bicycle by the van and ran into the house.

Her father was seated in the living room looking at his phone.

A deep frown was etched on his face.

Chinyere tried to sneak off to her room but her father spoke up, his face still on his phone, "So you can't greet, abi?"

Chinyere stopped dead in her tracks and turned her head to him. She rubbed her thumbs against the hands of her bag.

"N-no, Daddy. I-I just thought you were busy," Chinyere answered. "I didn't want to disturb you."

"Where were you?" her father asked, finally looking at her through his glasses.

"I... I stayed back to study -"

"Don't lie to me!" he yelled and stood up. "Where were you?"

"I... I was with my friends," Chinyere knelt down, "we were talking and I didn't realise how fast time went."

"At what time were you supposed to pick your brother?"

"At four," Chinyere answered and rubbed her palms together, inwardly praying for her father to forgive her.

"At what time is your curfew?"

"Four fifty."

"What is the time?"

Chinyere looked at the clock, "F-five twenty."

"Get up," her father said and turned his head away. "Get out of my sight! Stay in your room. I don't want to see your face today and don't bother about eating dinner. You won't eat anything till tomorrow morning."

"Daddy -" Chinyere started but the look her father gave her was enough to bury her six feet into the ground.

Chinyere turned around and ran to her room - the room she shared with her seventeen year old sister.

Having nine siblings wasn't easy.

She was the youngest female in the house and her parents were always comparing her to her older sisters.

There was a total of four girls and six boys.

Her father had married three wives and was still looking for a fourth.

He had five children from the first, two from the second and three from the third - her mother.

Her three year old brother, Destiny, was the youngest child of the Awaziem family.

Chinyere collapsed on the bed she shared with her sister after closing the door behind her.

Chinyere sat up, full of rage, and threw her bag off her shoulders and across the room.

She stood up and changed into a pair of silk shorts and a vest, not bothering to even take her bath.

She brought out her phone from her wardrobe and lay back on the bed as she turned it on.

When it turned on she put on her data and opened her Facebook app.

There was a new message from Mystery boy. Ironically, his Facebook account's name was Mysteryboy4life.

After confirming that he was online, Chinyere checked his message.

Mysteryboy4life

How r u doing?

Chinyere responded saying that she was not alright.

The two then spent hours talking on the phone.

Chinyere didn't know how long she had spoken with him for but she still didn't bother to check the time.

The next message that came from the Mystery boy reminded her of the talk she had with her friends.

Mysteryboy4life

Are you down for tonight? I know people who are searching for a beautiful model. An African beauty. I can introduce you to them.

Chinyere wondered why he couldn't meet her during the day but she didn't bother asking.

The last time she had asked, he gave the excuse of having school during the day.

She thought of what her parents would think if she actually went. They wouldn't be pleased but then she remembered Rachel's words.

Was she going to let her parents rule her life? No!

She wanted to have her own job and make her own money.

Chinyere came to her decision not long after. She was going to meet him.

Tunde's words ran through her head as she replied to Mystery boy's question but she brushed them away.

She was going to be a star and no one could stop her.

Mentally, she felt that she had made the right decision but something was telling her that she was going to regret her decision.

Mystery boy responded by giving her the address and the time for them to meet.

Chinyere stood up and jumped on her bed with her phone in her hands.

She was going to be a star!

As Chinyere jumped, her phone flew out of her hands and landed on the floor.

Chinyere bent down to pick up her phone. It's screen was cracked but she didn't care.

She was going to be a star and no one had anything to say about it.