Honey and Spice(57)
Last time in question involved Kayefi bursting into hysterical sobs at the sight of our increasingly frail mother, and me having a panic attack the following Monday on the bus to school.
“I have to look after Kayefi.”
Lysha shrugged. “Look, my little sister is having a sleepover with her mates this weekend for her birthday. I know they go to different schools but your sister gets on with mine. Our parents have met, you used to sleep at mine all the time. I’m sure it’ll be cool. You can get ready with me. You can wear nipple tassles if you really do wanna go naked. Your body, your choice.”
Rianne grinned. “See! Problem solved with Lysha’s ho couture suggestion.”
I laughed and shook my head. “I don’t know you guys. I feel guilty. My dad’s going back and forth from the restaurant and hospital and—”
Yinda blew on her baby pink nails. “You’ve been doing that too, sis. Working at the restaurant, going to the hospital, and looking after your sister. You going to feel guilty for being young? Listen, you been kind of a drag lately, and I get why, but sometimes it’s really like we’re chilling with a ghost or something. It’s creepy—”
Lysha turned to Yinda sharply. “Are you dumb, Yinda?”
Yinda’s wide eyes widened further. “Sorry, man, you know what I mean, though, innit.”
Rianne rolled her eyes. “What Yinda is trying to say is that we miss you, we miss having a good time with you, and it ain’t been the same without you. Right, Nile?” Rianne’s glossy lips stretched in encouragement at her boyfriend, nodding so her contraband silver hoops jangled.
Nile nodded and gently nudged me with his elbow. “Yeah. We all do. Who’s gonna make fun of how I dress? I’ll look after you. Don’t worry.”
I shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”
Chapter 14
Whitewell College Radio, 9:30–11:00 p.m. slot, Wednesday
Brown Sugar Show: Gotta Hear Both Sides, Episode 2
“Look, I’m just saying that life would just be easier for everyone if people just said what they meant, that’s all! Why would a girl say she’s fine if she’s not fine? And why am I to blame when I take her word for it? How does that make me the villain? Like, the other day we’re in class—”
I rolled my eyes and said dryly into the mic, “He’s been itching to get this story off his chest. Here we go.”
Malakai had switched to my seminar this week due to a medical check-up appointment clash, which actually turned out to be perfect because it further cemented the idea of our inseparability as a couple. So cute that Malakai switched to my class this one time because we were too busy for our weekly lunch date and he missed me. Or so the rumor mill churned out, according to Tyla Williams, who I’d bumped into in the library as I was returning some books. Tyla Williams had never spoken to me before. Tyla Williams, who I saw had once called me a stush bitch who “thinks she’s too nice” on a leaked screenshot eight months ago. But when we met in the library, Tyla commented, “Michael would never do that for me, man. Once I texted him to keep me company while I took my braids out and he said, ‘What for? I ain’t need to see how the sausage is made.’ What does that even mean?”
We ended up going for a coffee. She was nice. Turned out we were both going to Lagos that Christmas. We made plans to link up.
Malakai continued, comfortable in front of the desk, elbow resting against it as he leaned closer to the mic. He had taken easily to his new position as temp cohost. He was charming, funny, easy—essentially, himself. Our first show had been an introduction, had been surprisingly fun, and now, in our second, we had found ourselves in a groove.
“So, listen, Kiki puts her hand up to answer a question, and she gets it slightly wrong. The tutor asks her to assess her answer and she pauses. Hesitates. The lecturer doesn’t wait for her to figure it out. She does that sometimes to keep us on our toes. Anyway, said lecturer poses the question to the class. Some dude answers, real condescending with it, you know the kind of shit designed to make Kiki feel like she doesn’t know what she’s doing. The gag is, he actually gets what Kiki got right, wrong. Kiki puts her hand up to answer, and I turn to her like, ‘I got this, boo,’ because I know the answer. So, I put my hand up, as you do.”
I rolled my eyes again. He really was a dramatic storyteller.
Malakai shrugged at the mic. “I say I agree with her point but she got it slightly wrong on these issues—I break them down. Now, bear in mind that I’m sitting right next to her. Mate, the second the words leave my mouth I feel the temperature drop. I’m telling you, that lecture hall was Antarctica. I shivered. Man’s teeth started chattering.”
I heard Aminah snort from where she was sat on the sofa and I scoffed. “Alright. You know what? The Academy Award for Doing the Most goes to—”
“You, Kiki. Because the way you looked at me—I felt shook to my soul. If I now die of hypothermia, what will you say at my funeral?” His voice had taken on an avuncular Nigerian jaunt to accentuate his theatrics.
I smirked. “You had a good run. God bless your soul. Thank you for leaving me your gray hoodie.”
“Wow. You see? Ice queen.”
“Your hoodie will warm me up.”