The Other Side of Truth Page 11

  A little later, when Mr. Morris called for the English homework to be handed in, Donna offered to collect the books.

  “That’s a pleasant change. Thank you, Donna!” Mr. Morris sounded pleased. Grinning, Marcia’s friend strode over to the other end of the room so that their own column of desks would be the last. Sade hung down her head, waiting. She was aware of the other students taking out their books and she ignored Mariam’s nudgings to do the same. She knew what was going to happen. Donna arrived and stuck out her palm in front of Sade’s face. When Sade didn’t respond she called out.

  “Sir! The new girl hasn’t done it, sir! Maybe she doesn’t understand English properly, sir?”

  “There’s no need to shout, Donna. Just collect the rest, thank you,” replied Mr. Morris. The chattering around the classroom suddenly quietened and Sade sensed that the teacher was walking over to her desk.

  “I’m disappointed. I was looking forward to reading your work. What happened?” His voice was low and calm. When Papa or one of her teachers spoke to her like that, it always touched her more deeply than if they shouted.

  Her tongue felt as heavy as Grandma’s old-fashioned iron. Her head remained lowered.

  “Well, make sure you hand it in tomorrow then. I expect everything is still rather new to you,” Mr. Morris said quietly.

  “You wouldn’t let me get away with it, would you, sir? I’d get detention! Is it ’cause she’s a girl, sir?” Sade recognized Kevin’s whine.

  “No, stupid!” Marcia hissed. “It’s ’cause she’s African. Sir wouldn’t let me get away with it either!”

  As Mr. Morris brought the class to quiet, Sade felt Mariam’s fingers press lightly on her arm. She flinched, curling inwards. She felt as scrunched-up as her handwriting on the ball of paper that Marcia had flung so carelessly into the wind. But what could you do when you were up against people who told powerful lies?

  CHAPTER 24

  A DISTANT SILENCE

  FOR THE REST OF THE WEEK Marcia and her gang ignored Sade completely. Whenever Marcia passed her—in the dinner queue, corridor, classroom or playground—she stared right through Sade, as if she wasn’t there. After what had already happened, this disturbed Sade even more. She could feel herself becoming more timid, like a small creature whose ears and eyes were always in a state of alarm. If only she could be like the smart little rabbit in Mama Buki’s stories who always managed to trick the bigger animals. Of course Mama would have advised her to ignore Marcia and her friends as much as she could, to keep out of their way.

  There is no medicine to cure hatred.

  But she could also imagine Papa saying “That might be true, Mama, but sometimes even children have to stand up to bullies. If they don’t, those bullies put on even bigger boots!”

  If only Papa were here with them, she could confide in him. Perhaps he would know why Marcia and her gang had taken such immediate dislike to her. She couldn’t work it out. Why did they go on about Africa so much? What had Africans done to them? Or maybe they disliked her because of something else altogether. Sade’s anxiety about Marcia kept growing. In her nightmares, just as Papa could not stop Mama being shot, he could not prevent Marcia from entering their yard and pointing her accusing finger at Sade. But with each passing day without news of their father, Sade began to feel even more fearful whenever she thought of Papa.

  One evening, Mama Appiah called to see them. The Art College still had no news of Uncle Dele but she had a suggestion. If they could give details of their home address, the International Red Cross might be able to help put them in touch with their family. Sade panicked. She had already lied about their surname and their home town! So far Mama Appiah and Mr. Nathan only knew that there had been some trouble with the government. Sade was dreading the next interview with Mr. Nathan when they had to begin filling in their Asylum Questionnaire. Until Papa was safely out of Nigeria, it would surely be dangerous if the Red Cross started asking questions. In the meantime, what could they say? It was as if she and Femi were caught inside a thicket of twine and branches with Papa somewhere outside. They dare not even shout to let him know where they were in case the noise alerted the guards who wanted to capture him. Mama Appiah must have seen the alarm in Sade’s face. The children didn’t have to decide right away, she said. They could think about her suggestion and tell her when she came to take them to Mr. Nathan.

  On Sunday afternoon, Sade decided to ask if they could try to ring their uncle in Lagos. They were all in the sitting room with Aunt Gracie knitting, Uncle Roy reading the weekend papers and Femi as usual in front of the television.

  “Your uncle? But of course, mi dear!” Aunt Gracie was in the middle of a row but put down her knitting needles.

  Femi’s face showed nothing but Sade felt her own cheeks burning at the lie.

  “You’ll need the code.” Uncle Roy’s grave eyes viewed Sade over the top of his paper. Sade nodded nervously. They would have to pretend with Aunt Gracie just as they had done with Mrs. Graham.

  In the hallway, Aunt Gracie looked on anxiously as Sade held the receiver. Femi slunk in silently beside her. A series of clicks, followed by a long silence, was suddenly broken by the sound of distant ringing. Even Femi’s eyes became alert. Sade willed someone to pick up the telephone. Surely, at least Joseph was there. As before, she planned to speak about Papa in Yoruba so Aunt Gracie would not be able to understand. The ringing continued. The more Sade held on, the farther away it seemed to be. Like a lighthouse flickering in the distance, so far away that you might even be imagining it. Femi slouched back into the sitting room. In the end, the ringing cut off itself and Sade had to replace the receiver. Aunt Gracie put a comforting arm around her.

  “Never mind. We’ll try later. It only means that your uncle is out.”

  But when they tried again that night, it was the same. A telephone ringing endlessly in an empty room. This time Uncle Roy joined them. He was such a tall man that the hallway felt crowded and Sade felt doubly nervous.

  “What kind of work does your uncle do?”

  “He’s…a lawyer.”

  Sade saw Femi glance at her strangely. She didn’t see why she should make up a lie about Uncle Tunde.

  “Do you know where he works in Lagos? We might try him there, you know.” Uncle Tunde had an office but Sade had no idea where it was.

  “We could try the International Directory Inquiries,” suggested Aunt Gracie. “If your uncle has his own office, we might find it that way. What do you think?” Her voice rose with hope.

  “All right, Auntie,” Sade replied, uncertainly.

  “He’s your daddy’s brother, did you say? Shall I ask then for Mr. Adewale?”

  Sade did not contradict Aunt Gracie. When Aunt Gracie asked for his first name, she replied that it was Tunde. Short for Olatunde. At least that was true.

  As Sade listened to Aunt Gracie’s long conversation with the operator, she felt sick. She was wasting everyone’s time. Her lie was like a dirty spoon sinking into honey. When Aunt Gracie finally gave up, Sade hoped her face did not show her relief. But when Uncle Roy suggested that they pass on the information about Uncle Tunde to the International Red Cross, she was trapped all over again. Suddenly she understood Femi’s blankness. It was his way of cutting himself off from all the useless thoughts and questions that cluttered her brain. Femi wasn’t even trying to make sense of things. But this was too much for her to sort out alone. She had to talk with him. Make him talk to her. They were both in the same mess. Even if he had no suggestions, at least he could listen. It wasn’t fair for him to blank everything out and leave her to do all the worrying.

  “Good-night, mi dear. We’ll think of something, don’t worry!” Aunt Gracie gave Sade a small hug.

  “Thank you, Auntie. Good-night.” Sade tried to smile. One hand on the banisters, she leaped up two stairs at a time. Without knocking on Femi’s door, she turned the handle softly and slipped in. Femi was already in bed, reading a comic. He scowled at her.
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  “Femi, I want to talk with you,” she whispered, sitting down at the lower end of his bed. Her brother produced a loud irritated click.

  “Please, Femi. You’re the only one who knows the—”

  Before she had even finished, she felt a kick under the quilt.

  “Shut up! I don’t want to hear!”

  “But…” Sade stopped. There was no point going on. Femi’s eyes glinted angrily. He detested her along with everything else. Her lips quivering, Sade fled to her room.

  CHAPTER 25

  STRANGLEHOLD

  ON MONDAY MORNING, Sade intended to walk ahead of Femi as they set off for school. The Yellow Jacket Lady would see him across the main road outside his school. Femi had said nothing to her at breakfast, avoiding even looking at her. But a quick glimpse into his eyes, as he opened the wooden gate on to the pavement, revealed such deep wells of misery that she immediately felt sorry for him. It was pointless asking what was wrong. She slowed her pace to his.

  They were approaching Femi’s school when Sade thought she heard “Sha-day-aday!” shouted above the rumble of traffic. Femi must have heard something too because he swung around swiftly toward the road. Sade kept her head down against the wind. She made a point of not looking up into the throng of Avon students on the platform of the passing bus.

  “Are they your friends?” Femi broke his silence as the bus disappeared around a bend. Sade pulled a face. He looked as if he might ask her something else but then the barriers slid down as abruptly as they had lifted.

  Sade stood for a minute watching Femi tag behind a flock of children entering the playground. Inside, children stood chattering while others scurried around yelling and chasing. Some boys and a girl were kicking a football. They dashed across the middle of the tarmac, occasionally hurtling between the others. Femi appeared to take no notice as, with his rucksack humped tortoiselike on his back, he paced slowly around the edge. The other children could have been trees or outcrops of rock from the way he skirted around them without even a glance. None of them seemed to notice him either. Was this really her football-crazy brother who had so often boasted to his friend Kole that one day he would play for Nigeria in the World Cup? The same little boy who pleaded with Papa to put a more powerful light in the backyard so that he could practice after dusk?

  Sade was still on the opposite side of the road from Avon High when Marcia and Donna stepped out from behind her.

  “There’s something we want to show you,” declared Donna, once again linking her arm into Sade’s.

  “Yeah, it’s important!” Marcia sidled up on her other side.

  “I don’t want to see anything. Excuse me,” Sade said tensely, making her limbs rigid as she felt herself being turned around. An elderly man hobbled past and a group of older Avon students were approaching them. Surely these two girls couldn’t force her to go with them in full view of everyone?

  “Excuse me!” Donna’s voice tinkled with laughter as if Sade had just told a great joke.

  “Look here, we were only going to do you a favor. Show you something. Help you pass the test.” Marcia was matter-of-fact as she twirled one of her slim braids between her fingers.

  “I told you she wouldn’t know about the test!” Donna bantered. “Even if you don’t come with us, you’ll still have to do it, you know!”

  The Avon students had passed by them, absorbed in conversation, taking no notice of Marcia, Donna, and Sade.

  “Test?” Sade mumbled. “What test?”

  “Right, Marcie! Let’s show her. Top speed. We don’t want to be late for Morrissy, do we Sha-day-aday?” Donna giggled. Sade was propelled around and found herself being marched so rapidly that they were practically jogging down the road. She was being towed between the two girls, almost like a rag doll. They stopped at the first junction.

  “See down there,” said Marcia, pointing with her chin. She was about half a head taller than Sade so that her chin was in line with Sade’s eyes. “See that corner shop?”

  Marcia indicated a small shop with a blue sign over the door at the far end of the block.

  “That belongs to your friend’s uncle.”

  “You know, your friend from Africa—what’s her name?—the one you go round with.” Marcia put a hand on her hip, as if explaining anything to Sade was a chore. “You tell her, Donna, what’s she’s got to do.”

  “Well, there’s a really nice turquoise lighter in there.” Donna lowered her voice. “Marcia fancies it. You know what a lighter is, don’t you? For ciggies, right?”

  Sade stared at a crushed plastic bottle lying in a little stream of dirty gutter water. She remained silent.

  “Yeah, I want the turqoise one. You can get it for me.”

  “I don’t have money to buy it.” Sade said bluntly. The force in her voice surprised her.

  “That’s your problem, not mine,” Marcia tapped her foot impatiently. “If you don’t get it for me, there’ll be trouble—and not just for you, you know!”

  “Excuse me?” Sade confronted Marcia’s gaze. For a fleeting second Marcia’s eyes wavered before resettling on her prey.

  “That was your brother, right? Outside the kiddies’ school, yeah?”

  A spasm shot through Sade’s stomach.

  “We shouted to you from the bus, but you ignored us! You shouldn’t have done that.” Donna poked her face in front of Sade and fluttered her long black eyelashes. “Marcia’s cousin goes to that school, right, Marcie?”

  “Yeah. He’s taller than me—and he does anything I say. I bet your kid brother needs looking after too. Know what I mean?”

  Sade knew what she meant. Her eyes returned to the broken plastic bottle and a bent straw bobbing beside it in the gutter. The wind was making the water shiver slightly. She listened as Donna explained how they would be waiting at this same corner at exactly four o’clock for Sade to bring Marcia the little turquoise lighter.

  “In case you think of trying something funny, just remember your little brother, right?” Sade squirmed as Donna put her arm over her shoulder, bringing her face close up to Sade’s.

  “Marcie’s my best friend, but even I wouldn’t like to cross her.” It was her confidential tone.

  “Oh come on, Donna,” moaned Marcia. “Stop wasting time! You’ll get us detention from Morrissy.”

  They let go of Sade’s arms and set off ahead of her.

  Sade was only vaguely aware of a car hooting at her as she crossed the entrance to a petrol station. What struck her more was how Marcia and Donna both turned around, startled. But then they burst out laughing. They came and placed themselves, one on each side of her.

  “You’ve got to watch out for yourself, you know!” Donna cooed. “You better let Marcie and me look after you!”

  Mariam must have seen Sade being escorted across the main road. She approached Sade as they were trooping up the stairs.

  “What do they want?” she whispered.

  “It’s nothing,” Sade shrugged.

  Mariam didn’t press further.

  All morning, Sade’s mind throbbed with questions. Mr. Morris asked her if she wasn’t feeling very well and Sade had to say that she was fine. The math teacher gave a short lecture about daydreamers when she caught Sade staring out of the window. Sade tried to concentrate on solving the algebra problem on the board, but her mind soon wandered again. It was all very well Papa saying, “We have to stand up to bullies! Expose them for what they are” and “If you allow bullies a stranglehold, they’ll have you by the throat!”

  But what could you do when they already had you by the throat? Shout for help from the teachers? But would they believe her? Why had no one else told on Marcia? If she reported Marcia’s threat to Mr. Morris, wasn’t it even more likely that Femi would get hurt? Marcia could use her cousin to get revenge. They might even do something out of school. It wouldn’t be hard for Marcia to find out where they lived.

  At lunchtime Sade went with Mariam to the library. It was warm insi
de and the librarian was friendly. Marcia and her gang were unlikely to come because the students were not allowed to make a lot of noise there. Sade followed Mariam to a table tucked between some shelves, each taking a book from a wire stand. Sade chose one with a cover that had a face looking into a cracked mirror in which there was a cracked face. Girl or boy? She wasn’t sure, but terror was written all over that face. Mariam’s book showed a dark-haired girl in a headscarf looking toward distant mountains. Last week, Sade had seen Mariam spend most of her time in the library studying the cover of the same book. Perhaps the picture allowed her to dream. Today Sade took the chance to ask Mariam about her family. She knew she was asking for the wrong reasons, but the minutes were ticking by toward four o’clock and she needed to find out about Mariam’s uncle and his shop. What Mariam told her left her feeling quite numb.

  CHAPTER 26

  NO ESCAPE

  WHEN MRS. HOWE, the librarian, asked if either of them could help her sort some books for a short while after school, Mariam offered to stay for half an hour. She only lived around the corner. Anything later and her mother and uncle would become worried. Sade fumbled over her excuse. Her brother would be waiting for her outside his school. It wasn’t true, but Mrs. Howe said she quite understood.

  A lie has seven winding paths, the truth one straight road.

  Sade quashed Mama’s voice in her head by calculating the time it would take Mariam to get from school to her uncle’s shop. If Mariam saw her with Marcia’s gang after school, she would surely suspect something. But if Mariam stayed in the library until four, she might just miss bumping into them.

  Had Sade been asked that afternoon why she was going to give in to Marcia’s threats, especially after what Mariam told her about her family, she would surely have broken down. If Papa had only been there, she would have gone to him. However much she would have cried and sobbed about Marcia this and Marcia that, they would have made a plan. She could even imagine Papa going to talk to Marcia’s parents, to the cousin and of course to Marcia herself. Papa would have made Marcia see reason.