"Wake up, Omo! Are you not going to school today? The bus will be here any moment!". The voice echoed through the room, getting louder with every second until it dragged me out of sleep.
I slowly opened my eyes and turned toward her.
She stood there beautiful as always her long curly black grey-black hair styled in a traditional Yoruba fashion, a quiet reflection of culture and grace. For a moment, I just watched her smile. Then reality hit.
If I didn't get out of bed now… I was finished. An African mother's patience has limits. "Yes, Mama!" I jumped up immediately. I walked into the kitchen and kissed her cheek. "Good morning, Mama." "Good morning, darling," she replied warmly. Then her tone softened. "You were very tired yesterday. I didn't want to wake you early. But don't push yourself too hard… you know it's just us now." I smiled and looked at her. I knew there was so much left unsaid, but she always chose to keep it to herself just so we wouldn't feel the weight of the past. Since my father's death… everything changed. He was a biological scientist and a computer scientist. A brilliant man. A kind man. The kind of father everyone wished they had. Even when the government supported scholars like him, life didn't suddenly become easy. We still had to eat.
We still had bills. We still had to survive.
"I'll be fine, Mama," I said, forcing a smile.
I grabbed my bag and rushed outside. "Wait! The bus!" Too late. The school bus was already driving off.
"Wait for me!" I shouted, running after it.
No one cared. The students inside laughed. No one told the driver to stop. Typical. I slowed down, breathing heavily. "Why is this body so weak…? God, I need new legs." I stopped chasing. It always ended the same way anyway. So I walked.
.
.
MALU COLLEGE
A vast landscape stretched before him, filled with buildings, laboratories, football fields with running tracks, a radio station, an African museum and boarding houses. Lush forestation surrounded the campus, blending with artistic designs and cultural drawings that reflected a strong African identity. The entire area spanned nearly 5,000 kilometers, with beautiful gardens that had stood for over a hundred years, originally built during the colonial era.
Standing not too far from Omo was a massive building at the center of the campus. Inside were lecture halls, a theater hall and several departmental offices far too many to name. But Omo wasn't interested in all that. He was heading toward a specific place the Faculty of Science. As he approached the entrance, just as he reached the doorway, he heard "So today, we'll be moving on to the principle of velocity and distance," the physics teacher said.Oh no… Mr. Ali again? How did I come so late? I'm finished. I stood at the doorway, my mind racing as I tried to think of a way out of the situation. Just as I was about to calm my nerves
!PUSH! Someone shoved me from behind, forcing me right into the entrance of the class. My heart jumped as I quickly turned back. "What? Why are you standing in front of the class, loser?" Okosha. Of course. He smirked.
"Oh, you're late? Well, good for you. Mr. Ali—the wicked grandfather of Papa Adeoye—is teaching your class today. You're in serious trouble. Look, he's already coming. Let me run before he roasts me like he's about to roast you. You're so finished." He laughed and ran off.
My fists clenched.
Okosha… my worst enemy.
I couldn't even properly call him my bully. I was older than him, but my weak, slim body made it impossible to fight back. And even if I tried, his older brother—the most popular football coach on campus—would make sure I regretted it.
So I endured.
Like always.
Then I saw him.
Mr. Ali was already walking straight toward me.
"How dare you disturb my class?" he snapped. "Why are you coming so late? Are you tired of this subject? If you are, I can inform the school proprietor to graduate you immediately since you seem to think you're too advanced for this class!"
"…"... I panicked. Words failed me not because I didn't know what to say but because I didn't know how to say it without making things worse. "N-no, sir… I… I… the school bus… it left before I could get on" I stammered, my voice trembling as I struggled to come up with a convincing excuse.
"Are you blaming the bus for your lack of punctuality?" he replied sharply, anger clear in his voice.
Right… I'm terrible at lying. What should I do? My thoughts raced as I tried to fix the situation.
"I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again. It was my fault. I was very tired from yesterday's work and overslept. I should have prepared earlier," I said quickly.
Mr. Ali's expression hardened.
"And how is that my problem?" he snapped. "Am I the cause of your predicament? You have no excuse. Because of that, you will not be allowed into my class today." My heart sank.
"And you will lose ten marks. After this class, there will be a test. I hadn't planned it before, but I've changed my mind. You will serve as an example to the rest of the class."
The class behind him erupted into whispers and quiet laughter. "You do not miss my class," he continued coldly. "You have no excuse no matter what it is." I stood there, stunned. How could he do this to me? I'm already struggling… He could have punished me in another way… I swallowed the words and kept them to myself. From the doorway, I watched the rest of the class. Some laughed openly, others whispered and pointed. But it was fine. This was normal. At this school, brilliance was valued above everything else. And me? I lacked it. At least… that's what they said. The dullard. The loser. I didn't give myself those names but over time, I started to believe them.
Truth is… it wasn't entirely their fault.
I hadn't been serious before. All I did was play games, chase random curiosities and let my imagination run wild instead of actually studying.
But everything changed after my father died. At his funeral, I heard people talk about how great he was how intelligent, hardworking and respected he had been. And when I saw the faint smile on my mother's face as they spoke… I made a promise. I would change Even though he had always tried to teach me and my siblings to take our education seriously, I never listened.
Not like Tina and Titi I should have been a reflection of my father's intelligence by now But I wasn't Still…
It's not too late At least, that's what I keep telling myself I decided to change. To learn. To grow. But it hasn't been easy. First, I realized just how much I didn't know. Second, I had responsibilities part-time jobs, helping my mother on the farm.
Which meant… Very little time to study. And somehow… It still wasn't enough. It wasn't enoug but I was improving. So I didn't really care what they thought. I channeled my curiosity into studying the things I didn't understand. Little by little, I was getting better But to them, none of that mattered The students hated me.
Even some lecturers looked down on me They believed I didn't belong here that the only reason I was in this school was because of the government privilege my family received Maybe they were right Or maybe they just didn't see me.
.
.
The class was over. I quietly walked in, sat at my seat and opened my notebook, ready to continue reading. Then.
!THUD!
I was shoved hard from behind, and my notebook was snatched from my hands. My heart skipped.
Big Chilly.
The most popular and most feare student in my class. I froze for a second then quickly tried to grab my notebook back but he easily dodged me like I was nothing. He looked at me with a mocking smirk. "Well, well… what do we have here?" The entire class suddenly became interested, turning their attention toward us.
No… no, no… they must not see that…
Panic filled my chest. But it was already too late. He flipped through the pages then burst out laughing.
"HAHAHA! Omo the loser is studying Foundation of Mathematics? Arithmetic?!"
The class exploded.
"Really? How did you even pass your exams to get into this school?" he continued, laughing. "This just proves you don't belong here." I stood there, frozen. Then the laughter grew louder.
Some students were even rolling on the floor My ears rang I couldn't think I couldn't move. I knew what this meant. By the end of the day, the whole campus would know.
Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, she appeared.
Lola.
She was passing by the corridor when she heard the noise and stopped. "What's going on?" she asked one of my classmates.
I slowly turned.
Our eyes met.
In that moment, I wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole. We had known each other since elementary school. Back then, we used to talk, laugh and play together, but as time passed, she became brilliant… and I became this.
So I distanced myself, even before we left primary school.
She looked at me for a few seconds, and I could see it clearly pity.
"…I'm sorry," she said softly.
Then she gave a small smile and walked away.
Something inside me broke.
I stood there for a moment before quietly walking out of the class. No one stopped me, and no one cared.
---
I entered the bathroom and closed the door behind me. For a moment, everything was silent.
Then I broke.
Tears streamed down my face as I cried uncontrollably not just because of what had happened but because it happens every day. Every single day.
"Why…?" I muttered under my breath. "Why am I treated like this? Why can't I change? Why can't I fight back?"
I gripped the sink tightly and stared at my reflection.
Weak. Pathetic. Helpless.
"Is this how I'm going to live forever?" My voice trembled. "I can't even stand up for myself… not even in front of her…"
The tears kept falling.
"I can't keep living like this…"
I stood there in silence for a while, taking a deep breath, then another, trying to steady myself. Slowly, I raised my head and looked back at my reflection.
"…Then I'll change," I said quietly.
"I'll learn. I'm already learning, and I won't stop. I'll keep growing, no matter how long it takes."
My hands clenched into fists.
"I'll prove it to myself that I can be better than I was yesterday. For my mom, for my sisters…for me."
The days went on as usual. They still made fun of me, but I stopped paying attention to them because I knew there was nothing I could do about it except work on myself and grow from my mistakes. So that was exactly what I did.
Weeks passed and I kept learning. The more I studied, the more curious I became. At first, it felt forced, like I was pushing myself to do something I didn't enjoy, but as time went on, I slowly started to like it. Before I knew it, I had improved to the point where I was no longer at the bottom of the class.
.
.
.A year passed, and everything began to change. Teachers who once ignored me started paying attention. I went from being just another student to becoming one of the best in my class in junior secondary school. Some even started calling me a rising genius.
What they didn't know was that I was never truly a dullard. I had always had the ability to understand things quickly whenever I focused, but my laziness held me back. I used to spend my time playing around and feeding my curiosity without direction instead of actually studying. Even then, I could still pass, but I never pushed myself.
After that humiliation, something in me changed. As I continued working on myself, I began to realize that I wasn't a failure I had just been too lazy to recognize my own potential. That realization shifted my mindset completely.
The way I spoke also changed. I still didn't talk much, but I no longer allowed people to insult me without responding. If someone talked down on me, I talked back. It got to a point where most of my classmates stopped trying because they knew I wouldn't stay quiet anymore. Even if I couldn't back it up physically, I didn't care. I knew I might get beaten, but at that point, it didn't matter to me.
I stopped caring about what people thought. Not my classmates, not Big Chilly, not even Lola. I didn't have friends, and I had come to accept that.
Still, despite all the improvement, I thought things would change. I believed that maybe I would finally be accepted, but I was wrong. Nothing really changed. The same people still looked down on me, and I began to understand why.
Most of them were raised to believe they were above others. They came from wealthy families, supported by a system that favored them from birth, shaped by generations of privilege. Because of that, they looked down on people like me. And honestly, I couldn't completely blame them. That mindset didn't start today—it had been built over many years, and it wasn't something that would disappear overnight.
But even if I understood it, I refused to accept it. I couldn't let people treat me the way they used to anymore. The more I learned and worked for myself, the more I understood my worth. And because of that, I no longer felt comfortable staying silent when I was being looked down on.
Even the teachers had started to change. They now paid attention when I spoke and gave me more recognition. Although the school still favored students from wealthy backgrounds, they didn't ignore those who truly worked hard.
And for the first time, I wasn't being seen because of my father, even though he had been one of the greatest scientists in the town. I wasn't thinking about that anymore. My father had made a name for himself, and now it was time for me to make mine.
Especially now that I had decided to follow in my father's footsteps and become a computer scientist, I took things more seriously. I stopped holding back and began to show everyone that I wasn't a dullard anymore. Whenever a teacher asked a question, I answered before anyone else could. Even the so-called brilliant students struggled with questions I handled easily.
At first, they didn't like it. Then they started challenging me. But every time they did, I won—not with strength, but with intellect. I never backed down.
As for the bullies, I made sure they felt it the most—especially Big Chilly. He could barely answer questions since he was just an average student, and now that I had something he didn't—knowledge—I used it.
I smiled to myself.
If I was going to make them feel anything, it wouldn't be through fighting. It would be through proving that someone like me, from a lower class, could surpass them. I wanted them to understand that they weren't special they were just standing on the foundation their ancestors built for them.
And that made them even angrier.
I was the only one in my class from a working-class background with government support, so they couldn't push me out. That alone irritated them, and I made things worse by constantly outperforming them.
Now?
They hated me even more.
And honestly, I didn't care.
Why should I hide my intelligence because of bullying or fear of getting beaten? No, I refused to do that. Every chance I got, I would show them who I really was.
That was the decision I made as I sat quietly in my seat.
It was j
ust another normal day in my second year of junior school. I was lost in thought, thinking about everything I had gone through, when suddenly
"Big Chilly."
******