My name is Isaac Oluwapamilerin Daniella. Everybody calls me Pamilerin, except my Dad who calls me Daniella. I'm the first daughter of a family of three kids – two girls and a boy. My Parents are civil servants. I'm intelligent, emotional, beautiful, tall, size eight and dark skin. I classify myself as a good girl because I was raised well by my parents. I'm not an introvert, neither am I an extrovert. Let's just say I'm in between.
Tunde and I are level-mates, same department. We've been very good friends since level 100. He's the best student in class with the highest GPA, followed by me, making us the best two students in class. By the time we got to level 200, I realised that he had feelings for me.
Truth be told, I had feelings for him too. We exchanged eye contact in class each and every day, especially during practicals when we were grouped together. What attracted me to him was the fact that he was brilliant, tall and handsome. I love brilliant guys; all my male friends back home are brilliant as well.
One fateful day, he told me after class that he'd like to discuss something with me. I was scared because I had a fair idea of what he wanted to say. He held my hands;
“Pamilerin, I like you a lot. I know we are already friends, but I want us to take our friendship to a different level."
"A different level?! I don't get you." I pretended as if I didn't understand what he was saying.
"I know you know what I mean," he said. "But if you want me to say it out loud, I will."
"OK. I'm waiting. Say it loud."
"I want you to be my girlfriend. I really like you."
“I like you too, but I don't like the idea of dating my course-mate; we see each other every day." I explained.
“That shouldn't be a barrier." He asked, "What do you think?"
"Give me some time to think about it," I replied.
"Please do. I look forward to receiving a positive reply."
I smiled at him. Tunde had finally let it out; he professed his love for me.
"See you tomorrow, Tunde,” I said and walked away slowly.
I came back from school and met some commotion at my lodge.
“What's going on here?” I asked one of my roommates.
“It's Bolu's parent o." She said, "They came to pack her things.”
“But why?” I asked.
“You won't believe what your ears are about to hear," she heightened the suspense in the air. "Bolu has been rusticated from school since level 100 and she never told her parent about it."
“That's impossible!" I voiced out my disbelief, "She do go for classes; I've met her in lecture theaters on several occasions. Even on exams eve, we study together."
“She was just acting o. She's no more a student of this school.”
“Pamilerin, you mean to tell me that you don't know about this for all this while?" Another girl in my lodge joined the conversation, "I'm already aware of this for a while now."
“Really? I never noticed, because most times we even go to school together in the morning.”
“Her parents thought she was in final year. She's been collecting school fees from them every year."
“Na only school fees pain you? She even collected 200,000 Naira for project."
“Jesus! This is so unfair to her parents."
“Thank God for the good Samaritan who revealed the truth to them.”
“She even denied it, until her parent went to her so-called department to discover the truth for themselves."
“This is so sad; she made a big mistake. She should have open up to them or better still use all the money she has been collecting to get a Jamb form and try again," I said.
“She wrote Jamb twice after she was rusticated, but she was denied admission.”
“It's not compulsory to stay in this school; she should have opted for another university.”
“If she changed university the truth would have been out by now. You know what hurt me most?"
"No! Tell me."
“She's the only child of her parent. She has made them suffer and thrown away money for nothing."
“Eh ya, but it's not too late; she can still start all over again. I believe she has learnt her lessons.”
“If na my papa, no school for you again o. He don finish for you be that.”
“That won't help her, I believe she can still start all over again; everyone deserves a second chance,” I said.
Bolu's parents were through with packing her things, with the help of some guys from the hostel. They all entered into the car. Bolu sat at the back. I walked up to her and held her hand while her dad was still doing one or two things in the car. I seized the opportunity to have a word with her.
“Bolu, you don't have to cry; tears won't repair all the damages. Just make sure you don't give up on yourself."
“Thank you Pamilerin,” she sniffed.
“You can start afresh. You can be whatever you want to be; all you need is determination.”
“Thank you my daughter,” her mother said to me.
“Its nothing, Ma. Please don't give up on her. I know how you feel right now, but it's not the end of the road for her.”
“Thank you dear,” she added.
“Thanks for the advice. I'll try my best,” Bolu's dad said.
“You are welcome sir, I pray you and mummy reap the fruit of your labor”.
“Amen!” they chorused.
I faced Bolu, "it's not a crime to fall; the most important is to rise again. May God be with you.”
“Amen!” she nodded, crying out loud.
“I will give you a call,” I said.
“Safe journey,” I said and waved at them as the car took off.
I went straight to my room and crashed on my bed; I was tired and famished at the same time.
I thought about Bolu's case again; I really felt sorry for her parent.
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