Fire and Blood

"Fire, tears, and blood! There will be fire, tears, and blood!! Yes! Along with broken bones for those of you who disobey my holy commandment! Thou shalt not cheat in my exam hall. Some of you might be thinking, 'Cheat but don't get caught', I laugh in Pythagoras. I have eyes in the back of the head, nostrils that sniff out iniquity and ears that can hear even your cheating thoughts. There shall be no spying or carrying of 'bomb' in this hall! Otherwise, fire, tears, blood and broken bones!"

This fire and brimstone sermon was being 'preached' by Mr. Dickson, our Introductory Technology teacher. I say preached but what I actually mean is yelled. Or boomed. Or shouted. You get my drift.

Mr. Dickson was a towering individual; both tall, and wide also. He looked like the baby of The Rock and a sumo wrestler. If such a thing ever happened. He had dark skin, a bald head, flat nose, and thick ugly lips. 
Mr. Dickson, or Mr. Ugly baby, as we called him behind his back but outside the school premises, looked and acted mean. So when he mentioned fire, tears, blood and broken bones, we believed him. Mostly. He was definitely capable of the blood, tears and broken bones part. The fire we were not sure of, but we knew better than to find out. Every student in Imperial High College, Ota, lived in terror of Fire and Blood, as we called him behind his back but inside the school premises.

We were writing our third term examinations and today we had Intro-tech. Usually, a pair of teachers were assigned to invigilate the students during the exams but since it was Mr. Dickson's subject, he decided to do it all by himself. After all, he was Sango the thunder-god reincarnated. No one would dare cheat inside his exam hall.

Lemme tell you a little about myself. I am a Basic 8 student, top of my class once every two terms. I and my friends; Bisola and Kehinde take turns with the first position each term. We don't cheat. We don't need to, after all, as our teachers always say, Mr. Dickson excluded, we're naturally gifted. 
Earlier this term, the principal had announced that the students with straight A's throughout the academic session would get a scholarship and a laptop. This was certainly something we were capable of, so capable in fact that we made the mistake of bragging about it and had the unluckiest luck for Mr. Fire and Blood to overhear us. We knew he would make us miss our goal with just less one A. He was that kind of man.
So it wasn't surprising when a week before the exam, he announced that our basic 8 examination was to be partly based on the basic 9 entire syllabus. After all, he said, we would soon be promoted so it was to be like a taste of what was coming next.
Although we had my elder sister's Intro-tech note, we did not have enough time to study it. 

I had an ace up my sleeve though. A story. A story I had found impossible to believe when I first heard it. My elder sister had told me this story. Mr. Dickson also doubled as the Physics teacher. During her NECO exams, my sister narrated to me how Mr. Dickson was in charge of the 'special students'. He brokered deals with each external invigilator where he would be allowed to 'teach' these 'special' candidates in the exam hall. My sister described to me how humble he was while discussing deals like this. How he would plead with the invigilator, how he earnestly 'taught' the 'chosen ones' for a humble fee of one thousand naira per subject. While she told me this, I thought she was pulling my legs, but she had a corroborating witness, her friend, Cynthia. Cynthia was a chosen one on the day they wrote mathematics. 

This was the same story I told Kunle after I swore him to secrecy. He was the oldest and tallest boy in our class. Kunle was our class jaguda, our class agbero. But even though he was rough and streetwise, he had a strong sense of right and wrong. According to his definition anyway. I had told him the story a few minutes before the exam started, after suggesting a question I was absolutely sure would come out. I had even taken the pains of showing him exactly where in his note he could find the answer.

So while Mr. Dickson bellowed his hypocritical message about the sanctity of his exam hall, I waited. I answered twenty-five out of forty questions from the objective section. Then two questions from the theory section. The rest was based on the basic 9 syllabus which I hadn't completely covered. I waited.
Then it happened. Kunle had been caught with 'bomb', a page torn out of his notebook.  Mr. Dickson was livid. His anger being stoked by the nonchalant attitude Kunle displayed. Kunle was even talking back!

"I said no cheating in my exam hall! You shall shed tears of blood!!", Mr. Dickson screamed.
"Y you dey vex na? No be you dey help people spy for NECO exam? I go settle you with one k make u dey alright", Kunle replied calmly.

Mr. Dickson was red. As red as a dark-skinned person can be anyway. The vein in his head bulged out and pulsed visibly. He looked ready to shit bricks.
By now, the entire hall was focused on the exchange. Eagerly awaiting the carnage that they were sure would follow.
I looked at Bisola, then at Kehinde. It was time, I signalled. 
I pulled out my own 'bomb' from my shoes.