Chapter 3: Game On!

Mayowa is making things harder than they already are.

He’s been spreading a twisted version of what happened last Saturday, and somehow, it’s worse than the real story. He’s turned my fumble into a full-blown epic failure, and the rumors have taken on a life of their own. It’s personal now, and I’m furious. I almost threw punches at him that same night when I first heard the whispers, but a group of seniors nearby warned us both that if we didn’t cool it, they’d drag us out, naked, and flog us in front of “all your stupid girlfriends!”

Wale was the only one I confided in about what actually happened. He found it amusing, sure, but he sympathized with me. Still, with Mayowa’s lies spreading, it feels like I’ve been cornered. Mayowa has the upper hand, he’s been at the school longer, has more influence, and his reputation as a smooth talker with the ladies doesn’t hurt. He’s the guy who somehow always has his khaki uniform looking perfectly ironed, even though there are no irons in the dorm rooms. 

I, on the other hand, am still the “Yankee boy,” which should work in my favor. Everyone assumes I know how to talk to white and mixed girls, so maybe, just maybe, that’s the only reason some people are still on the fence. Our classmates are split. Some believe Mayowa. Others are suspicious enough to give me the benefit of the doubt. Either way, the whole thing has turned into a drama series, and I’m the one being talked about in every episode.

Things got so bad that earlier this week, Ladi ended up scrapping with some of Mayowa’s friends over the whole thing. To the guys and me, Mayowa’s lies felt like a declaration of war, and Nnamdi was quick to say what we were all thinking: “Who the hell does he think he is? That idiot boy has crossed a line, and we MUST pay him back!”

I rejected a few plans for retaliation, especially Nnamdi’s brilliant idea of ganging up to beat up Mayowa in the shower, a plan both Wale and Michael quickly prohibited. Eventually, the guys settled on what they believed was the ultimate revenge: I had to win Ifeanyi over, and then …this was the kicker, kiss her in public where everyone could see. The whole idea was ridiculous. I had no intention of making her kiss me in front of the school. All I needed was for us to be seen talking, laughing, and maybe some of the rumors would die down, but that plan took a sharp turn when I overheard Mayowa in the showers this morning, bragging about his supposed relationship with Ifeanyi.

Unaware I was two stalls down, Mayowa was talking to his friend Dimeji about how Ifeanyi was practically his.

“Did she invite you to it?” Dimeji asked.

“Not officially, but I know she likes me. You can see it,” Mayowa replied confidently.

“What about Myles? He’s going to interrupt again, abi?”

“Abeg joh! That fool has no chance after last week. It’s her I’m focused on. I’m telling you, man, by the end of this term, Ifeanyi and I will be dating.”

His words hit me hard. Until then, I thought he wasn’t really serious about her, that it was just a passing crush. Now though, hearing him talk, it’s clear he’s just as hooked as I am. I get it. Who wouldn’t be? Ifeanyi’s on another level. From her soft brown eyes and dimpled smile to the purple silk scarf she always ties around her waist, everything about her makes my heart race.

But this? This has turned into a competition, and I’m not backing down. I saw her first, I liked her first, and now Mayowa and I are locked in a race to win her heart. Game on. May the best man win. 

Some of my confidence comes from our last conversation. I’m pretty sure Ifeanyi dropped enough hints that she’s interested in getting to know me. Today, I’ll find out for sure.

The one point of relief is the big soccer match today between our school and Government Boys Secondary School. It’s the talk of the campus. Crowds and snack vendors are already pouring in, and even the Area Boys, the local thugs who always try to extort students at big events, have started gathering near the school gates. I spot at least fifteen of them hanging around. They’re not usually dangerous, but they can start trouble if they’re backing the wrong team. I silently hope they’re on our side today.

After shoveling down lunch, the excitement on campus reaches new heights. The Gateway soccer team is getting ready, with stars like senior Lekan in midfield, senior Usman “Alhaji” in the forward position, and our legendary goalkeeper, senior Dominic, leading the charge. The school fan club is out in full force, blaring drums, tambourines, and horns, and some students have painted themselves head to toe in our team colors, green and white.

The guys and I hang out briefly before the game. They’re buzzing with energy, trying to rope me into their latest genius idea; spelling “G.A.T.E.W.A.Y.” across our chests with white chalk and body paint. I decline. Politely, but firmly. I’m on a different mission today. A quieter one. One that doesn’t involve my bare chest and screaming.

What’s surprising is how nobody even brings up Ifeanyi, not Ladi, not Nnamdi, not even Michael. Everyone is so caught up in the frenzy of the match that all the drama since last Saturday seems to have vanished. And honestly? I’m grateful. It gives me space to really focus on what I plan to say to her this time. No distractions. No noise. Just me, and hopefully, a better version of the words I couldn’t find last Saturday.

Earlier this morning, I even scribbled down a few talking points on my palm with a blue Bic pen, hoping I remember the essentials. Like how to breathe and how to speak in complete sentences.

As the crowd moves to the field, I sneak away to freshen up. After a quick wipe down at my locker, I put on some deodorant, and reconsider the chain I’d planned to wear. It feels too flashy, like I’m trying too hard, so I leave it. I need to keep it simple. Let my words do the shining.

I head to the side entrance of the Tech building, where the traders usually set up, knowing Ifeanyi will pass through on her way to class. I scan the area for Mayowa, half-expecting him to ambush me, but he’s nowhere in sight. Good. I’m hoping he’s too caught up in the pre-game hype to bother me right now.

Then, I see her. From across the courtyard, I spot Ifeanyi walking toward me with a group of her friends, laughing and chatting like the world is theirs. My heart races.  I quickly glance at my palm, but my notes have smudged into an illegible blur. Panic threatens to creep in, but I push it down, hum a song under my breath, and calm myself. By the time she’s just a few feet away, I’ve mustered enough courage to approach her.

I stroll up casually, pretending to have just noticed her. “Oh, hey Ifeanyi. How are you?”

To my delight, she smiles and walks toward me, a playful grin on her face. “Myles! Hi! Wow. So, I see you finally found your voice, eh?”

The world spins for a second. Her perfume, her smile, her eyes, it all hits me like a wave, but I’m ready this time.

“Hah! Yeah, I guess I did,” I say, managing to keep my cool. “Sorry about last time. It’s not every day I get to talk to a pretty girl… you caught me off guard.”

That was not from my handwritten notes. What part of my brain just said that?

It doesn’t matter, because it works. Her cheeks flush slightly, and she looks down, brushing her hair back before meeting my eyes again with a smile.

“So, who are you listening to?” I ask, noticing the headphones draped around her neck.

She mentions a new song by Soul II Soul, and I ask if I can listen. She hands me the headphones, and I nod along to the beat, impressed. “This is good! I liked their first album, but this is even better. Man, I’d tear this up on the dance floor!”

“Yeah right! You Gateway boys can’t dance for your lives!” she laughs. “I’ll have to teach you one day.”

“Oh, really? Show me what you’ve got then,” I tease.

She laughs again, shaking her head. “In your dreams, Myles. You’ll have to earn that!”

We go back and forth, our conversation flowing effortlessly now. I feel more confident, and she seems to be enjoying herself. Then, out of nowhere, she asks, “So, I heard you’re from America. Are your parents’ ambassadors or something?”

I blink.

Wait, wait… she heard about me?

I grin. “Hold up. You heard about me? As in, you asked about me?” I lean in slightly. “Hmm, so who’s been giving you insider info?”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling too. “No one you know. I was just curious. You got tongue-tied last time, and I wasn’t even sure you could talk.” 

“Wow. Ouch. That’s cold.”

She shrugs playfully. “It’s okay. I actually thought it was kind of cute.”

I freeze for a second. Did she just say cute?

Focus, Myles. Don’t mess this up.

“Well,” I say, trying to recover with a bit of style, “No, my parents aren’t ambassadors. I actually got sent back to Nigeria for doing something kind of stupid.”

Her eyebrows rise, and she leans in, clearly intrigued now. “Really? What in the world did you do? Wait… don’t tell me… You were working for Pablo Escobar and they caught you smuggling powdered milk across state lines.”

I burst out laughing, loud, unfiltered, the kind of laugh that bubbles up when someone completely catches you off guard.

“No, Ifeanyi. I did not work for Pablo Escobar,” I say, still chuckling.

“It was just a fight. A stupid one. I got suspended, and my parents decided I needed a ‘change of scenery.’”

She tilts her head, amused. “Ooooh, so you’re a bad boy?”

“More like a dumb boy,” I admit with a grin. I launch into a story about my old school, embellishing just enough to keep it entertaining, but somewhere in the middle of talking, I mention Renee without thinking. As soon as her name leaves my mouth, I feel it. The air shifts. Ifeanyi’s smile dims slightly.

“So… was she your girlfriend?”

I stumble, caught. “Not really… not anymore. We, uh… ended things before I left. We don’t really talk anymore.”

The conversation falters. I can feel her pulling back a bit, and I scramble to redirect the moment.

“You know,” I say quickly, “a lot of JSS3 boys talk about you. You’re kind of a celebrity around here.”

That brings the sparkle back. She laughs and rolls her eyes, brushing off the compliment, but I can tell she enjoys hearing it. We settle back into our rhythm, talking, teasing. Then, just as I think I’ve found my groove again, she leans in closer, her voice lower now.

“Last week… when you tried to talk to me, what did you really want to say?”

I open my mouth to answer, but something catches my eye… movement just over her shoulder. Mayowa. He’s across the field, stalking toward us like an angry bull. His eyes are locked on me, jaw clenched, arms swinging hard at his sides. My stomach drops. He’s coming. Fast.

I have seconds, maybe less, but I force myself to hold her gaze. This is my moment and I’m not letting him steal it.

“Honestly,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel, “I don’t even remember… but I think it had something to do with how I like your smile.”

She grins, her eyes flicking down for a second before meeting mine again. Her cheeks glow just a little, and I can tell she’s enjoying the compliment.

“Well, if it made you talk, it must be working.”

Just then, Mayowa interrupts, his voice stiff with fake authority. “Myles! Mr. Eniade has been looking for you all afternoon. He wants you to report to the housemaster’s quarters right now before you get in more trouble.”

I know it’s a lie and stand defiant. I turn slowly, keeping my cool, and stare him down.

“Oh really?” I say, cocking an eyebrow. “You sure he didn’t send you to go polish his shoes?”

Mayowa’s jaw tightens, but I don’t flinch. Not this time. 

Before he can fire back, Ifeanyi glances between the two of us, clearly catching on. She smiles knowingly and steps in with a calm, almost playful tone.

“Myles, you should probably go before you get into too much trouble,” she teases, her eyes locking on mine for a moment. “I’ve got to get back to my lessons anyway... but don’t worry,” she adds with a soft smile, “I’ll still be smiling.”

Her words carry a subtle message, and I know she’s not letting Mayowa’s interruption steal the moment. I offer her a handshake, and when she squeezes my hand gently, warmth floods through me, making everything worth it. As she walks away with a sulking Mayowa trailing behind, I head to the field, replaying our conversation in my mind.

Later, as I join my friends, they’re eager to hear the details. I drag it out for fun, letting them soak in the victory with me. And then, when Gateway wins the match 2-1, it feels like the perfect ending.

Even better? The Area Boys are on our side!

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