Skip to main content

It Rhymes with Last



Her name was Sharon and she was the prettiest girl I had ever seen. She had this type of beauty I hadn't seen before. The sensual sort. I think she knew this too. After all, why else would she wear her pristine, well-fitted white uniform with the top unbuttoned?
She had white, well-formed teeth that shone like diamonds whenever she parted her lips for a smile. She also had dimples. Just because. That, combined with her light skin and her oval-shaped face unblemished by pimples made her perfect.
She was a new student in my school and fortunately, she was in science class. I say fortunately because I was also in science class. That meant I had better chances of being more than a classmate. That was a daydream though. Some boys in the class already looked like men, so naturally, if she wanted to pick a 'friend' it wouldn't be me. I was only small fish.
Did we become friends? I can't remember but I don't think so. We became friendly anyway. This was mostly due to lessons which held after school, after which along with others, we would walked to the bus stop.
That term, Sharon fell sick and she couldn't attend school for a while. A delegate went to visit her at the hospital. I went with them. That was when I offered to help copy the notes she had missed in class. Mr. Nice Guy. That was me. I copied biology notes, chemistry notes, physics note. I copied and copied fuelled by the hope that afterwards, just maybe, maybe she'd see that I was there. In sickness and in health.
Well, you know how they say nice guys finish last. I finished last.
Sharon recovered and returned to school. On her return, she immediately switched to the art class.
My fingers have never forgiven me since then.

Comments

  1. Sintom30 January 2020 at 05:03

    😂😂😂😂😂.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Amena Cliff30 January 2020 at 05:55

    The description of Sharon is perfect 👌👌👌

    ReplyDelete
  3. Easy vakpor AD30 January 2020 at 13:56

    Sometimes, it never finished well with Mr Nice guy most especially.Good story nigga

    ReplyDelete
  4. Keely Daniels30 January 2020 at 22:43

    Love the transition from one description to another. Just perfectly linked. Great job!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Unknown31 January 2020 at 07:41

    And biology notes can dey long o🤣🤣🤣🤣

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

If you don't have a Google account, use the Name/Url Section to drop a comment.

Tap on the Google account and select Name/URL

If you don't have a website leave the URL blank

Thanks

Popular posts from this blog

The Writer

  I don't talk to strangers. What I mean is, I don't have unnecessary conversations with service people. If I have an appointment with a doctor, I don't need his bedside manner. I don't need enquiries about my welfare from the market woman at the stall where I always buy my semo or idle chit chat with my barber as he cuts my hair. Even on a bus, I don't join in on the familiar chorus of how bad this country is getting. I don't think I'm better than people. I'm just not good at verbal communication, so I write instead. I'm better at it. I eavesdrop on the conversations of people around me and reinvent them as fiction. That's how I became an international best-selling author.  A year has passed since I last published a novel. That's why I decided to go out to find fresh ideas. Public transportation is usually ripe with stories to transform into captivating tales.  As I waited on a street in my city, I spotted a keke. It was empty except for the
12 comments
Read more

Vegetable Soup

     James must have eaten thousands of meals in his lifetime, but only a few held strong memories for him. Not an easy feat, considering there are only so many times you eat a particular dish before it becomes commonplace.      There was the bean porridge his aunt Chinanza used to make during the primary school holidays, which he and his siblings spent at her house. The porridge was watery, with fragrant fresh pepper and soft yams sliced into it. At that point in his life, he didn't enjoy eating beans, but he always enjoyed Aunt Chinanza's. He hadn't spoken to Aunt Chinanza since the big family fight, but whenever he thought of her, he thought of her beans.      Then there was oil rice, which his brother Tom used to make when they were still in secondary school. Tom was a bit of a mad scientist when it came to the kitchen. He would go into the kitchen and concoct meals that their mother certainly did not teach them. Nobody knew how he came up with his recipes, but they alw
3 comments
Read more

Best In...

     He had been standing there for what seemed like hours, unable to make up his mind, and with each passing second, the award plaque grew heavier in his hands. He could hear his father’s voice echoing from the past as clearly as though he was present in the room with him. Which was not surprising after all, as he was standing in his father’s study. He remembered how he would stand with his elder brother Seyi as they helped his father set up more space on the Wall of Achievements as a child. He could remember how their father would tell them with pride in his voice, the stories of each award as he added more and more every year. He stared again at the wall, which told the story of his father, Dr Obafemi Michaels, his outstanding career as a surgeon, researcher, and even as an upstanding citizen of his country. The wall was covered with award plaques and souvenirs. There was even a medal of honour from the former president.       The Wall of Achievements had been extended to the wall o
4 comments
Read more